This was the third time he had died. Each time, Aziz returned to the same scene: Roof sitting on the mound, the fire raging as always. But with each death, the secret art Roof was using became clearer. His eyes—that was the key. They seemed capable of breaking apart internal energy, a chilling reminder to Aziz of how vast the martial world truly was, filled with arts he had never imagined. A lesson he should always keep in mind.

If only he had mastered the first art of Master Xiang, he might’ve stood a chance. But he hadn’t completed his study of poisons, hadn’t advanced far enough in his discipleship to wield the more powerful techniques. Part of him wanted to abandon this whole endeavor, to leave and come back when he was stronger. But by then, Marcus would be dead, and the black pill would be out of reach.

He needed to break through this wall now. For someone who couldn’t die, time still felt pressing. Who knew how many memories he had lost in exchange for all these deaths?

Aziz approached the mound once more, cracking his knuckles as he called out to Roof.

“Ready to go again?”

Roof opened his eyes, just as he always did. “Mmm. I knew I recognized you. You’re that slum boy from before. You talk like you know me, but the last I remember, you were holed up in the pits like a coward. It’s a wonder the Order hasn’t rid itself of deadweights like you.”

“You talk too much,” Aziz replied, Shadow Stepping forward.

Roof reacted instantly, drawing his sword, his blade cutting through the air just as Aziz appeared in front of him. But in an instant, Aziz vanished again, using Wraith Walk to pass through Roof’s form, spinning on his heel and releasing the technique just in time to strike Roof at the back of his head.

Roof rolled forward, creating distance, his eyes wide with shock. For a moment, he couldn’t believe he had been hit.

“Impossible. Who are you?” Roof muttered, his expression darkening. Clearly, he hadn’t expected anyone in the forest to take the Schlieffen arts by surprise.

Aziz couldn’t hide the smile as it spread across his face, revealing his sharp fangs. His purple eyes blazed with intensity, and his wild, black hair tumbled untamed behind him.

“A demon,” Roof spat, regaining his composure. He settled back into his stance. “Who knew Nessa was raising a dog like you? What are you—some mutant created by that Sherman bitch’s techniques? Come on then. Seems I took you too lightly.”

With a grunt, Aziz charged again, dodging the predictable thrust that Roof always led with. He moved inside the attack, unleashing his internal energy to create multiple shadow hands, each one destroyed by the piercing gaze of Roof’s eyes. But Aziz didn’t relent. Every time a shadow hand was dissipated, another took its place, an endless barrage.

“This is ridiculous! You can’t possibly have this much internal energy!” Roof shouted, his once-calm demeanor cracking as the pressure mounted.

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He hadn’t expected to be overwhelmed like this. Roof had experience, technique, and the advantage of the Schlieffen arts, but Aziz’s raw internal energy was boundless. The depth of his darkness threatened to swallow Roof’s light. And just as Roof prepared for another shadow strike, Aziz dashed to his side, releasing all his internal energy and using nothing but his fists. He drove a brutal punch into Roof’s liver, forcing a gasp from him as the boy clutched his side in agony. Roof had been so focused on the internal energy attacks, he hadn’t anticipated the shift to pure physical power.

The Promogo Rattlesnake is deceptive. It lures its prey with its tail, shaking it to draw attention. The prey focuses on the tail and never sees the fangs coming.

Master Xiang’s words echoed in Aziz’s mind, guiding him through each death and rebirth. He had baited Roof, and now the prey was his.

With a swift kick, Aziz sent Roof’s sword clattering to the ground, the sound sharp against the tense silence. Aziz followed up with a brutal boot to Roof’s chest, sending him sprawling to the dirt. The scent of victory was near.

Roof tried to move, but Aziz stomped down on his leg, snapping the bone with a sickening crack. Roof’s scream pierced the night.

“No! Curses!” Roof howled, reaching for his sword in desperation.

Aziz’s foot came down again, this time on Roof’s hand, crushing it with a grisly crunch. Another scream, this one filled with tears as the once-proud Schlieffen boy’s eyes welled in pain and fury.

“Damn it, no! I will not fail you, Mother!” Roof cried, his voice cracking.

Aziz hesitated, watching the boy beneath him. How bizarre, he thought. Even now, Roof’s thoughts weren’t on himself. This arrogant, selfish boy had someone else in mind.

“Why did you pretend to be something you’re not?” Aziz asked, crouching down, his curiosity piqued by Roof’s anguish. There was a strange sincerity in his suffering, as though the boy’s fight wasn’t for himself.

“You wouldn’t understand, you puppet!” Roof snarled through clenched teeth, his voice thick with rage and despair. “You don’t know what duty means! You peasants could never understand! There are things I must do—to clear my mother’s name!” His sorrow turned to wrath, his body trembling under Aziz’s weight. “Go tell that Nessa bitch—even in death, I’ll haunt her to the ends of this wretched world! Make sure she knows that a Schlieffen never forgets! I swear upon my eyes, I will destroy the Sherman family and their lies! You tell her, demon!”

Aziz pressed his knee harder into Roof’s chest, silencing him with a pained cough. Roof struggled to breathe under the pressure, and for a moment, Aziz looked down at him, unsure of what to do.

Duty.

The word lingered in his mind. Aziz had a duty too—revenge for Mal, revenge on the Order for tearing him from his village, for taking all the children from Fang Mountain. He had given up his memories, sacrificed much of his humanity for that cause. Was he and Roof so different? Both driven by duty, by a higher calling. But in the end, Aziz didn’t care for the politics of Peklo Forest or this deadly exam. Let the children kill each other. His true goal was to bring down the Order.

“Just kill me already,” Roof spat, still struggling as Aziz lost himself in thought.

This exam... what was the point? To separate the strong from the weak? But if that were true, why had the Order left him untouched, isolated in the pits for so long? Why hadn’t they intervened? Aziz’s eyes flickered toward Roof’s discarded sword, and a piece of the puzzle began to fit together. Yes, the exam was about weeding out the strong. If the Order’s chosen ones were receiving special benefits, did that mean Aziz had a benefactor too? A guardian angel?

The Order had to know about the temple. It didn’t make sense otherwise. The pit wasn’t random—it had a purpose. He wasn’t a child anymore. Things had become clearer with age. The question was, what did the Order want from him?

Looking down at Roof, a shattered boy beneath him, Aziz realized that Roof might be another piece of that puzzle.