Helial turned suddenly pale as he stared at the claws dashing towards Vlad without the sleeping guy doing a thing.

Shit, Helial thought. To him, Vlad was already stone dead. Luckily, the blow wouldn’t powerful enough to blow his body to pieces. It would still be possible to bring him back to life.

Once reached the First Phase, within the 24 hours immediately following their death, one still had the chance to be brought back to life. Even the worst could be mendable somehow.

As Helial held his breath in, a stunningly beautiful girl with black bangs standing on the opposite side of the training ground covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“What did you tell Helial, Circe?” asked Francesca from beside her, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I told him Vlad is unbelievably talented,” Circe said with an evil smile on her face.

“Did you mention his bad temper?” Francesca asked in concern.

“I’m afraid not. What a pity I’m so forgetful,” Circe sneered. She was ready to enjoy the show.

Circe’s charming eyes were fixed on the blow struck by Snowflake. Vlad was hit. It was a through and through.

Everyone stared blankly as they turned pale. Helial’s expression through told another story. He suddenly turned towards Snowflake. Meanwhile, Vlad’s afterimage dissolved as quickly as the bench collapsed.

“Watch out!” he yelled to Snowflake.

“Mpf, this is what happens when you think you’re quicker than this ca-“ Snowflake suddenly blocked, his mouth still open. An arrow was pointed through his jaws all the way to his throat, still nocked to the bow.

Vlad was standing in front of him, a blunt expression on his face. He didn’t seem upset, despite what the row about to turn Snowflake to a spit made it seem.

He’s quick! Helial said to himself as a smile curled up the corners of his mouth. He hastily reached for Snowflake. Hands raised, he said: “Forgive him. He’s too instinctive.” Then he stretched a hand out towards Vlad as he said: “I’m Helial.”

Vlad looked at Helial with utter disdain painted on his face. “My cousin’s new pet?”

Helial’s expression remained unchanged as he smiled at the ginger-headed dark-eyes youth. His brow irises glistened in vague bloody shades, as if a flame were burning down his eyes.

“Put down the bow, please. I’m happiest when Snowflake is forced to shut up. What does not make me happy though is let one of my fellows be killed in front of everyone. Could you give me some face?” Helial smiled at Vlad as around them the temperature dropped by several degrees.

Vlad slightly squinted. He neatly perceived the pressure Helial was giving off. It made him feel like he was standing beside a primordial demon instead of a simple guy.

Instantly, he removed the bow from Snowflake’s jaws and tried to point it towards Helial’s head instead. No one could threaten him like that.

Fwoosh!

And yet, before he could even realize it, one second before the arrow pointed to the direction of Helial, a huge longsword was pressed against his neck. It had materialized out of nowhere. Even if Helial had pulled it out of his Interspace Ring, he still wouldn’t have enough time to bring it so close to him. Such acceleration, and such deceleration, were no ordinary feat. They required an extremely refined control over one’s strength as well as an explosive power.

That feat was enough for Vlad to understand Helial wasn’t as simple a guy as he thought. Apparently, Circe found an interesting pet this time.

“I won’t come with you,” Vlad said laconically before lowering his bow.

“If you’d had been swifter, you still couldn’t have done anything, you know?” said Helial with a smile. He put Curse of the Demon away. As the longsword disappeared, he twisted his fist in midair.

Vlad’s eyes shot open as he gazed at a translucent barrier he hadn’t took notice of. It was blocking the trajectory of his arrow. Despite being paper-thin and not looking any protective, its appearance still took his breath away. He surely wouldn’t be able to pierce it with some ordinary attack.

A silvery-haired little girl suddenly appeared next to Vlad: “You’re quick. But if Snowflake had been careful enough, you would have had zero chances of hitting him. Also, your moves were pretty instinctive and therefore predictable.” As her wise words died out, Lumia grabbed Helial’s arm and tried to press her non-existent breasts against him. Then, Lumia cast a glance at the opposite side of the training ground. She scornfully glared at the group walking towards them.

Clap Clap Clap

Circe clapped as she approached them. “I must say none of you fell short of my expectations. You’d better go with them, Vlad. Otherwise, I’ll tell my dad you broke our Guild rules again.”

“Excuse me? I’ve broken no rules,” Vlad said in bafflement. He stared at Circe right in her eyes, without taking the least step back before one of the most feared women in all Orma.

“Oh, I know that. But do you wanna bet on whose word my father will trust?” Circe said as she stroked her chin, faking a thoughtful expression.

A damned witch, everyone thought. There was no way out of Circe’s ruthless manners alive.

“And you, little girl. Do you really think you can compete with me?” Circe panted icily. She disappeared and reappeared by Helial’s free side. She pressed her voluptuous breast against the poor King’s pupil, defenceless.

Helial looked at his right then at his left. Then, he helplessly gazed at Vlad, his eyes asking for help. Vlad shrugged and turned, as if saying: “Don’t you think I have enough to think about already? What fool would step in?”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

However, Vlad’s expression changed drastically as he noticed Circe wasn’t alone. Her whole group was with her. The witch’s generals where Circe’s most trusted men. In Orma, one’s power was defined by the Level as well as by one’s leadership skills. The more the people one led, the firmer one’s position in the new generations.

Circe was the leader of the second faction in Orma for strength and number, since a few hundreds of Royal Academy Disciples sided with her and obeyed her orders. Even Comodus couldn’t hold sway on as many people as Circe. Despite her being younger, the charm and royalty she exuded attracted everyone in the Royal Academy like the sweetest honey.

Helial was caught among two fires he had no idea how to get rid of. Suddenly though, a voice resounded out: “Don’t wear him out, Circe. My father needs his pupil.”

No one figured whose voice was that, at first. But then…

Father?

Everyone felt a chill down their spine as they stared at the girl who had just spoken. Her appearance was less flashy than that of Circe yet her bearing was twice as elegant. Her lovely smile would melt the iciest heart. Her eyes could mend every broken soul. Despite her beauty not being as fierce as that of Circe, her looks were those of a pure stunning rose.

Circe cast her a glance, one eyebrow raised: “Mind the business of that monster you agreed to marry, Francesca.” A gleam of disappointment flashed in Circe’s eyes, and a gleam of pity followed.

Francesca’s only answer was a smile. Her face was as still as a mask. No facial feature would seem to betray the slightest trace of emotion, be it positive or negative.

“Good soldier,” Circe sighed as she shook her head. She slowly let go of Helial. But only after rubbing her two mountains on her fiancé’s arm once again.

Under the gaze of Lumia, who had that point was more than willing to skin her alive, Circe added: “Let me introduce you to the Generals of my faction.” She stretched a hand out pointing at them. They looked much more like her little dogs than her Generals.

“This is Flautus,” Circe said in a smile. The man with a funny name came into Helial’s sight. He was two meters tall, brawny and strong-looking. Judging by his Aura, he must have been in the Third Phase Early stage. He was one stage under Circe, who already was in the Third Phase Intermediate stage.

Flautus bowed at him in greeting. His stern glare surveyed Helial keenly all over. His expression portrayed a vague hint of dismay. Then he gazed at Circe with dreamy eyes, his mouth shut.

This Flautus, it was clear, had a thing for Circe. Which didn’t upset Helial. But it wasn’t like he remained aloof either. In fact, he suddenly unleashed to the fullest the Destruction his Aura was imbued with. It soon suppressed that of the complacent Flautus.

Flautus raised an eyebrow. He immediately tried to suppress the pressure Helial gave off, but he soon had to face the truth; not only didn’t Helial’s pressure diminish, it was also intensifying. Flautus grinned his teeth, ready to attack.

Circe enjoyed the show, a smug on her face. Everyone else was staring at them in silence. Helial was no rash guy, but he didn’t like it when someone questioned his strength. From his standpoint, only the strong had the authority to ruler over the weak, and the chance to decide whether not to. Flautus posed no threat to him, but nonetheless his gaze had vaguely reminded him of the scornful eyes of Hades.

Helial took a step forwards as he said: “Another glare will be the last thing you do before you die.” He was standing a dozen of centimeters away from Flautus, who was gazing down at him. It was only due to his height though.

Flautus was about to speak, when he realized he couldn’t even grasp the nature and intensity of Helial’s strength. Also, Circe was giving him a strange look. He gave a sigh and tried to stir up the corners of his mouth in a smile.

Helial shortly nodded. He shrugged as he stepped back. Caesar once told him: “If you take it out on every glare they cast you here in Orma, you might as well get ready for a hell of a slaughter.”

Yet Helial’s answer was: “Well, but there’s a Mana Oath in the way.”

Did this mean that he if hadn’t been bounded by the Oath, then he would have slaughtered anyone who dared glare at him in disdain?

Caesar knew Helial was no evil person. He didn’t believe that he was as deceptive as Comodus or as impulsive as Circe, yet there were quite a few sore spots in that boy they had better not touch. He would probably grow more mature, given due time; or at least this was what the King of Orma thought.

“Oh, and you already had the pleasure to meet Francesca,” said Circe as she winked at Helial, “Flautus is a warrior, while Francesca has a Secret Class linked to the Ninja one.”

Helial gave Francesca a puzzled look. Ninja? Ninjas were rare creatures. It was a further specialization of the Killer Class. Though, Ninjas were far more skilled than Killer when it came to Mana. They were creatures shrouded in mystery. Francesca’s simplicity seemed to have nothing to do with Ninjas.

“This is Rice,” Circe went on. She hinted at a skinny guy with pale skin. Helial surveyed him. It looked like any gust of wind could sweep him off his feet at any second.

“Rice is an Archer. Or rather, his Secret Class employs bows too,” Circe explained proudly.

Helial cast Rice a second glance. He wondered if the guy could even notch an arrow without getting hurt.

“And this is Dipper, a melee-combat expert as well as a skilled long-range warrior. Like the others, he has a Secret Class too,” Circe listed out. This was the last one of her four Generals.

“Though, they’re not members of my Team. They’re more like my bodyguards,” she added as she gazed at the three men who answered to pretty questionable names. “One day you’ll meet my Team members too. In a match, maybe…”

These words left Helial astonished. He promptly recollected himself and paid his respects to Flautus, Rice and Dipper, his hands cupped. He did the same for Francesca.

Suddenly, a white shadow peered out from behind his back. “And now the time has come for US to fucking be introduced. Rice? Dipper? Flautus? Who’s the next one, Spaghettus? Fuck.” Thick beads of sweat suddenly crowned Helial’s forehead. The cat was about to trigger Circe’s army. Despite Circe’s powerful crew, Helial was sure than when it came to words, his own army boasted a man – or rather, a cat – who had no opponents.

“This is the asshole,” Snowflake said as he pointed at Helial, “it’s a while he’s been following me everywhere. He fights with a big black dick. He has no-one-knows-which-Class.”

Inside Helial Soul, Iblis panted. The cat gave on his nerves.

“This is our maniac,” Snowflake went on to say as he lowered his voice as if telling a secret. "You look at her and see a cutie harmless girl. But trust me, she’s a madman. She’s dangerous. She vents all of a sudden, and next thing you know she’s all sweetness and love again. Also, she has this thing with her brother…” Snowflake’s hands mocked at some overly raunchy scenes who ensued utter hilarity. Everyone burst into laughter except for Circe.

Who was that cat again?

He seemed to be the leader of Helial’s group. But it wasn’t like he could actually be, right?

“These two are the shitty Goblins of our team. Yeah, I’m race-inclusive, I know, you can thank me on the good I bring to this world later,” Snowflake added.

Helial had turned pale. Race-inclusive? What did that even mean? When you’re not training, you spend all of your time eating and napping, you damned cat!

Snowflake cast a glance at Vlad and said: “He’s our new entry. Another evidence of my inclusive humane work. We also welcome bastards, as you can see.”

Vlad looked at him with eyebrows furrowed. Snowflake was speaking like a philanthropist, when in fact he only was an insane cat who had just attacked him in his sleep for no reason.

“Then, last but DEFINITELY not least,” Snowflake said as he stood upright on two paws, his claws pointed at himself, “here stands the Supreme Cat, destroyer of the dog race, lord of lasagne and sommelier of every milk ever produced all over the universe.”

As he finished his introduction, Snowflake landed on his frontal paws with the proudest expression on his face.

“He looks more like a tiger to me,” Rice remarked without much thinking.

“I am a cat,” Snowflake hissed as he glared at him.