Grunts of pain echoed up to the cavern ceiling.

The poison had taken full effect. Bodies lay sprawled across the floor in a drunken-like stupor, completely unaware of their senses, unable to move. Aziz stepped between them, surveying the scene before him. His masterpiece. No—not a masterpiece. In the Lowly Serpent Breath, Master Xiang had once poisoned an entire city's water supply, wiping out the army stationed there and allowing the Bloodcoil Sect to take over in a single day. A battle won without losing a single sect member. Compared to that, this was nothing.

Nearby, a few bodies twitched, but the venom in his blood was still potent. They wouldn’t wake for at least a full day—plenty of time for Aziz to do what needed to be done. He finally reached the mound, where the fire still burned, casting flickering shadows over the now-charred carcass of the pig. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. On the log, slumped and silent, was Roof Von Schlieffen.

Aziz stood before him, hands clasped behind his back, studying the now helpless figure.

"A shame," Aziz muttered, venom thick in his voice. "To kill you like this. I would’ve liked to hear you beg for mercy."

He had little personal hatred for Roof, aside from finding him obnoxious. But knowing this man had harmed Delilah—it irritated him more than he cared to admit. The pill. That's all we’re here for, Aziz reminded himself. Roof would have made a worthy opponent, a chance for Aziz to test his own progress in martial arts. But circumstances rarely afforded such honor.

"Master Zhang would scoff at the idea of an honorable duel," Aziz said, speaking to the unconscious Roof as though the man could hear him. "So I hope you understand why you have to die this way."

He called upon his internal energy, shadows curling around his arm like serpents. He would strangle Roof in his sleep. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too painless. Just as he reached out, something caught his eye—the bowl at Roof’s feet. A strange chill ran up his spine. The bowl was... still full.

No way.

The realization hit him too late. Roof’s eyelids snapped open, and before Aziz could react, the self-proclaimed Star King drew his sword, driving it straight into Aziz’s chest. The blade pierced his heart with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed from Aziz’s mouth as he staggered, staring into Roof’s clear, alert eyes. He faked it. He never ate the food.

How? No one knew about the poison... except—Aziz’s mind flashed to Crow. The conversation Crow had shared with Roof. That bastard. Crow must have figured it out, which explained his sudden departure. He had warned Roof, and for once, Roof had listened.

“I don’t know who you are, but no one touches a Schlieffen. Curse you and curse your master!,” Roof sneered, driving the sword deeper, twisting it before yanking it out. Aziz stumbled back, blood pouring from the gaping wound as his life ebbed away.

"I am the Star King!" Roof roared, thrusting his bloodied sword into the air. His voice rang out over the camp, falling on deaf ears with no one conscious to hear his victory.

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Aziz knew he was dying. His body grew heavy, his limbs numb. His final thoughts raced—how had I been so foolish? What had made him so arrogant, so sure of his own strength? He had forgotten where he had started.

A promise slipped from his lips, spluttered in blood, as he collapsed to the ground. Never again. He would never make the same mistake again.

***

It was tedious to go back a whole day. Thankfully, he had Mal, recounting the journey each time to make sure not too many things were different. The logical part of him thought he should rethink the plan but Aziz had to admit. It annoyed him. He wanted his plan to succeed. The same stubbornness of his father. Something that clearly hadn't changed.

This time, Aziz waited. He crouched in the shadows, eyes fixed on Roof, watching for the slightest movement. The self-proclaimed Star King didn’t twitch, didn’t flinch—he remained perfectly still, unnervingly aware of the presence that had infiltrated his camp. Aziz had miscalculated. Severely. He had thought Roof to be just another arrogant noble, drunk on power and blinded by his own ego. But no, Roof was patient, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I underestimated him, Aziz thought grimly. No matter what, Roof was still a noble, trained and bred for survival in ways most couldn’t understand. In his arrogance, Aziz had treated him like an easy target, a mistake Master Zhang would have mercilessly chastised him for.

But the real truth—the truth that twisted in his gut—was that Aziz should already be dead. The blade had pierced his heart, and yet, here he stood. By all rights, he should have bled out on that cavern floor. But life, as it seemed, was unfair, and for the first time in his cursed existence, Aziz was grateful for it. His hand instinctively moved to his chest, clutching the spot where Roof had impaled him. His heart still beat, steady and strong.

If it weren’t for this curse...

He shook off the thought. He was alive, for better or worse, and now he had to figure out how to kill Roof. But something was wrong—very wrong. Aziz had tried to end this quietly, with distance, but every attempt had failed.

He had first tried to fling a shard of sharp stone at Roof, aiming to embed it in his throat. But the stone had inexplicably veered off course, as if struck mid-air by an invisible force. Even when he used his shadows to manipulate the environment, to wrap tendrils of energy around Roof's throat, the force dissipated before making contact. He wasn't sure but Aziz could've swore that he saw Roof blink.

Nevertheless it left only one conclusion. Martial arts. That must be how Roof was deflecting the stones.

What is protecting him? Aziz wondered, growing increasingly frustrated. Even after all his tries Roof didn't move, waiting for his attacker to show himself, keeping up the act no matter the attempts Aziz had made. It was as if fate itself had decided Roof couldn't be killed so easily. Roof couldn't detect the Shadow Steps at least, otherwise he would've drew his sword and charged.

It was becoming clear that whatever strange force shielded Roof, Aziz wouldn't be able to eliminate him from a distance. He had no choice but to confront him directly. As if the universe itself wants me to face him head-on, he thought bitterly.

Aziz straightened, stepping out of the shadows. His heartbeat slowed, each step deliberate, as he walked toward Roof’s seemingly unconscious body. His eyes never left the boy’s form, watching for the telltale signs of deception—small movements, a twitch of the hand, the faint rise and fall of the chest.

When he stood just meters from Roof, the fire casting flickering shadows on the noble's still figure, Aziz spoke, his voice low and steady.

"I know you’re awake."

Roof’s eyes snapped open, gleaming with a predatory awareness. He didn’t bother with the charade this time.

Aziz didn’t flinch. He had been prepared.

Fate wants a fight, he thought. And he was going to give it one.