"Master, he's here." A man adorned in a tuxedo spoke.

"Finally," a deep voice said, his voice bouncing off the walls of the study.

"Shall I bring him over?" The butler asked.

"No, I'll meet with him." The man rose up as he strode towards the audience chamber, followed by the butler.

On his way, the man stopped before a painting encased in a brown frame, his reflection slightly visible as he fixed his suit and carefully drew back his pale red hair, a clear indication of his lineage.

"Is there anything wrong, master Kyros?" The butler asked.

Kyros stared at his reflection for a few more seconds before straightening his gaze. "No, let's go."

Meanwhile, back in the audience chambers sat a cloaked figure, patiently waiting for the host to arrive, his whistle filling the room.

As the sounds of footsteps neared, he rose up. "Good day, master of the house of Donovan."

Kyros remained mute for a moment before he tilted his head a bit. "Good day to you, Saint Azerel."

"Oh? Are you sure you're willing to reveal that to your servant?" Azerel asked, a grin present on his lips.

"He's a trusted comrade. You need not worry about him." Kyros gave the butler a nod as the man left the room silently. "There, feeling better?"

"Much better," Azerel said as he chuckled.

"If that's all, let us get straight into business; I don't have time to waste," Kyros snarled, his brows furrowed.

"Why so angry, old man?" Azerel taunted as he shrugged.

Kyros's frown deepened as his face contorted in anger. "May I remind you... Boy, you are not in your domain. This is my domain, and I don't tolerate disrespect."

"Oh, that's scary~" Azerel mocked further, disregarding Kyros's warning.

"It appears I must correct your attitude first before we do this meeting," Kyros said, his tone grim as he stepped forward. However, Azerel leaned back as he replied.

"Are you sure about that?"

From the shadows of the room, a man adorned in a black cloak revealed himself, halting Kyros's steps as he froze.

"That..." he muttered, his voice shaking.

"Surprised? I'm not stupid enough to barge into another saint's house without my own guards," Azerel said.

The man behind him wore something. A mask. One with three eyes embedded in its surface. Something Kyros knew very well.

"Impudent bastard...!" He whispered, his face flushed red as nerves bulged in his face.

"What? I can't hear you, old man. Better speak up," Azerel said, a wide smirk present in his visage.

Kyros's rage neared a boiling point as his hand formed a fist. However, he chose to sit down as he took a couple breaths.

"What do you need? I thought we'd already finished talking last time," Kyros asked. This wasn't the first time they met. They already did once.

Back then, Azerel proposed a plan to Kyros on behalf of his master. The thaesir leader, hesitant at first, eventually agreed upon the mention of one thing. Power to rule over Tera.

The proposition was simple. Help the ministry smuggle a single thing. It was suspicious, but the boy promised that he would grant him power to rule over Tera. When asked how, he only said one phrase. "Order through chaos."

"Oh, it's nothing too difficult. We just have another proposal at hand," Azerel said.

Kyros's eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. "Elaborate."

Azerel chuckled. "We'll get rid of your competitors and even throw in the new temporary saint."

"Ajax," Kyros said.

"Yes, that man," Azerel said.

Kyros caressed his red beard. "Throw in the brat too, and this deal is done."

Azerels smile widened. "Deal," he said as he shook the man's hand.

"Wait, you've forgotten to tell me. What am I supposed to do this time?" Kyros asked when Azerel threw a necklace at him.

"Inside that remnant are five other remnants. Place it in the heart of the city, and I'll do the rest," Azerel said before he pressed on his ring.

Before Kyros could even react, a blinding flash engulfed the room. When it faded, the two were gone.

***

"Are you insane, boy?" Arnold of the raging bull asked.

All the students in the garden whispered to one another as they looked at Samael with disdain and disbelief. He was wasting a once-in-a lifetime opportunity to join the noble hierarchy! To enter aristocratic society and be accepted with open arms! Was he crazy?

"As expected of peasants, too stupid to understand."

"Step back. He might infect you with his stupidity."

"Perhaps he's still tired from his previous battle?"

However, Samael ignored the students as he looked at Headmaster Oliver. "I choose the Nightwalkers."

The headmaster nodded, a small, imperceptible smile visible in his face. But before he could even utter another word, Therese spoke up.

"Samael, you don't seem to realize it, but... no one joins the Nightwalkers," she said.

"Listen to us, boy, you're wasting your potential in such a place," Arnold added.

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"I cannot believe I'm saying this, but for once, these people are correct. You have so much talent that we can polish," Raymond of the Blue Hawks chimed in.

"Now, if you've realized your foolishness, pick again," Therese said.

Samael remained silent for a moment as he approached the four leaders. As he neared them, he could see the greedy and detestable glints in their eyes.

They think the world revolves around them. Everything that doesn't mean them is automatically trash. Thinking about it, what gives them the right to decide such things? Power? Influence? Lineage? What a bunch of bullshit! In the end, all of them, both nobles and commoners, are the same. They're all humans.

He was done holding it in.

"I choose..."

The four leaders leaned forward as their backs straightened.

"The Nightwalkers," Samael spat in their faces.

The four leaders's faces fell grim.

"First of all, there are people joining the Nightwalkers," Samael answered as he shot a look at Therese. "I just did, didn't I?" He asked as he watched Therese's smile twitch.

"Speaking of potential," Samael muttered, luring Arnold's attention.

"I think I know what's best for me. Unlike some, I got to where I am through sheer effort and hard work. I did not possess the resources that could have boosted me beyond everyone else. Yet, here I stand, stronger than most," Samael said as he intently looked at Arnold.

The man's face flushed red as veins bulged in his neck, his grip tightening as cracks echoed in the garden.

"I also know that I'm better off with people who truly know how to fight. I would rather use my fist than hide behind words and their foul meanings," Samael said.

The leader of the blue hawks smile faded as his jaw clenched.

"And I also know that money and prestige aren't the only things that matter. You can't buy power; you earn it," Samael said as he increased the strength of his voice.

Rudy's face fumed in anger as Samael passed by him without care, as though he posed no threat whatsoever.

"Your tongue is too sharp, boy," Arnold said as his bloodlust flowed out.

"Perhaps you need a little teaching," Therese added as vines started to sprout under her seat.

"Knowledge, huh? How about I show you how to truly fight?" Raymond said as the temperature dropped.

"Enough."

Like a mad dog, the killing intent of the leaders were swiftly caged as the headmaster's voice thundered in the area.

"If student Samael chooses the Nightwalkers, then a Nightwalker he shall become," he said. "I will accept no retaliations or any more threats. Know some shame leaders. These students look up to you," he followed.

As Samael walked towards Michael's seat, Rudy's voice reached his ears.

"I expected more from you. You disappoint me."

A small smile made its way to Samael's face as he whispered back.

"I'm glad I did."

A loud crack reverberated in the air as a piece of Rudy's seat was torn off, leaving particles of wood in his hand.

"Ah, it seems the seat has not been properly maintained. Fret not, I shall consult some workers to fix it," he said to the headmaster.

Reaching Michael's side, the leader of the Nightwalkers could only look at Samael with confusion and uncertainty.

"Why would you do that?" he asked.

"Why did I do what?" Samael shot a glance at the man, staring him straight in the eyes.

"Why would you forsake yourself by joining my family?" Michael asked.

Samael remained silent for a few seconds. "Do you want the truth or something more pleasing to the ears?"

Michael, who reeked of alcohol, spoke. "The first one. Why?"

Samael stared at the students, choosing their families, as he answered. "Because I felt that you were worthy and strong enough to truly teach me something."

Michael's eyes widened as he felt the influence of alcohol leave him.

Worthy.

Strong.

What did those words really mean?

What did Samael see?— What did his other students see in him?

How was he worthy? How was he strong?

He wasn't anyone special. He was a commoner. Someone who was once ambitious. But now he is reduced to nothing but a drunken waste.

What did they see?

No. Perhaps it was just a lie to make him feel better. Another wave of unnecessary pity.

"I'll give you one more chance, boy. Go and choose a different family. Don't use your meaningless flatteries on me. It doesn't make anything better," Michael said.

Samael remained unmoving. "I meant what I meant. And if you really want me to choose another familia, should I take that as an order, sir?" Samael asked.

Michael felt as though his tongue had been tied.

How can he? The last time he gave out orders, a life was lost. Something far more precious than his.

Power.

He used to think he was strong. But when he needed that power the most, it failed him. After all, you can't beat death in a fight. He cannot... He can never bring himself to risk another person's life. Never again.

Michael remained silent as he took out a flask containing alcohol before chugging it down in one breath.

Yes, this was more like it. This is him now. No amount of words can make him chang—

"I also choose the Nightwalkers."

Michael hurriedly shot a look at the middle of the classroom, where a boy stood. Like Samael, he stared at Michael as though he could see beyond this awful mess he was.

The four leaders frowned as they tried to speak up, but the headmaster quickly shut them up with one silent stare.

As the boy made his way beside Michael, Samael greeted him. "Hey Desmond."

Desmond gave Samael a brief nod in return as he positioned himself after him.

Michael's hand shook as he tried to hastily drink the remaining alcohol in his flask when another voice rang in the field.

"I also choose the Nightwalkers."

Michael's hand trembled as the alcohol in the flask spilled, staining his shaking hands as he watched his reflection on the droplets of liquor winding down his skin.

He looked like a mess. How can a 30-year-old man look so... lifeless?

As the third Nightwalker walked up to Samael, he spoke. "Raegan."

Raegan gave Samael a bow as he stood beside Desmond.

Michael closed his eyes as he bit his lip.

He must be hearing things. No! He has to be!

Yet, as the minutes passed by and the students chose their familias, more and more voices said one phrase.

"I choose the Nightwalkers."

Each time it was mentioned, Michael felt shame and fear envelope him. However, as Lilith went into the middle of the field, the four leaders spoke.

"Surely you're smarter than most of them."

"Clearly, a girl of your stature knows best what will suit her."

"Finally, someone who knows some sense!"

Listening to the leaders praises, a smile formed on Lilith's lips as she spoke.

"I also choose the Nightwalkers."

Michael felt deaf as he stared at his hands. The image of someone... No, the image of a bright student flashed in his eyes as tears fell on his calloused palms.

Why him? Why choose him? Just why?! Why must they... give him hope?

"Sir, please don't blame yourself..."

"No, no, no, NO! This can't be happening!"

"Sir... sir..."

"NO! SHUT UP! STOP TALKING!"

"Please, sir... tell my sister I'm sorry I won't make it to her birthday."

"FUCKING SHUT UP! JUST... STOP!"

"Will you promise, sir?"

"You'll tell her yourself! We'll get you fixed, just... stay awake!"

"I feel sleepy, sir."

"No, no, no! Stay with me!"

"Sir..."

"...What?"

"I don't want to die..."

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Wake up! NO! WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE MEDICS?!"

"WAKE UP! FUCKING—ARGHHHHH!!!"

"WHY?! WHY MUST HE DIE?! JUST... why?"

"What did he do to deserve this...?"

Michael felt his tears flow uncontrollably as his body shook without stop.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"Let's go, Michael! There's a monster wave coming our way! WE HAVE TO GO!"

"I-I..."

"NOW!"

Did he really deserve to lead? After what happened?

"I seem to remember..." The headmaster said in a low voice, luring Michael's attention.

"I seem to remember a kid who shone amongst the rest, and I also remembered a man who was everything that kid could have asked for," he said as he looked at Michael.

"Will you really deny his one true wish?" he asked.

Michael clenched his jaw as the same words echoed inside his head.

"I believe you are strong, sir. That's why I chose you. I think you are the most worthy because you've worked harder than anyone to reach where you are now."

Tightening his grip, Michael wiped away the tears as he straightened his back and glanced at the headmaster.

"Don't you think you've mourned enough?" he asked as he winked.

A small smile made its way to Michael's lips as he took a deep breath.

Perhaps it's time to try again. Perhaps it's time to stop this pathetic display.

"Yeah, he would have scolded me if he saw me today," Michael whispered.

"Did you say anything, sir?" Raegan asked, his brows furrowed.

Michael looked at the nightwalkers.

"I said I'm going to work you to your bones."

A small, imperceptible smile made its way to Samael's face.

"Is that an order, sir?" he asked.

Michael shook his head as he smiled.

"Yes, that's an order."