"Speak," Renji said, slowly crossing his arms over his chest. His snow-white eyes fixed on her, sharp and unblinking.
Mary's lips curled faintly before she began. "From what I can tell… Oliver is after you."
"Oliver?" Soren repeated.
The others narrowed their eyes.
"Oliver," Mary continued evenly. "The demon targeting you. That's his name."
A brief pause.
"Oh… yeah, that makes sense," Jiwon muttered. The others exchanged quiet glances.
"As I said," Mary went on, "Oliver is after all of you—especially you." Her gaze settled on Damien. "You killed one of his most prized minor demons. Damon was his younger brother. Now that he's dead, Oliver wants your head."
She paused.
"But he won't act yet. Not because he doesn't want to—because of the rules."
"Didn't he say we were let off the hook?" Jiwon tilted his head slightly, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Even though Damien killed someone?"
"That's what confuses me as well," Mary admitted. "Your friend should have been punished by the headmaster. The only explanation is your sponsor. That's likely why you were spared."
Silence lingered for a moment before she continued.
"I'm currently developing a plan to dismantle Oliver's crew—the Crimson Devils. In this pl—"
"Is that what you were going to offer us?"
Mary stopped.
"Hm?" Her head tilted slightly.
Damien leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze steady. "A plan. That's your offer?"
"…Yes," she replied. "Don't tell me you intend to go against them without one."
"We're not saying that," Renji cut in.
Damien pushed off the wall and stepped forward, stopping beside him.
"But what makes you think we should trust you?" Renji added, tilting his head back slightly.
"Pardon?" Mary's voice tightened.
One of her guards stepped forward. "Watch how you speak to madam."
Renji didn't even glance at him. "No disrespect. But a 'plan' isn't enough for blind trust."
He continued, voice steady but firm.
"You expect us to take your word at face value? Look around." His gaze flicked across the academy grounds. "Does this place look like one where trusting strangers is a good idea?"
Silence settled over the group.
Mary scoffed. A bead of sweat slid down her temple.
"I'm sorry," she said, her tone sharpening, "are you rejecting my offer?"
The corner of her eye twitched.
Soren stepped in before things escalated. "I believe this conversation is over. There's no foundation for trust here."
"Foundation?" she repeated, her expression shifting—irritation, disbelief, anger flickering in quick succession. "I'm offering you the best possible solution against Oliver and his crew, and you're refusing it? You arrogant—"
She stepped forward.
Her guards tensed, fists tightening, awaiting a signal.
"And what exactly do you want from us?" Soren interrupted, stepping between them.
His voice remained calm, but his posture was firm.
"Or are we supposed to believe you're doing this out of generosity?"
"Ah…" she breathed, biting her lip. "I'll take this as an insult. And an insult to me… is an insult to my entire organization."
She turned on her heel with deliberate flair and walked away, her two guards falling in behind her.
"Crazy bitch," Jiwon muttered, pulling a hand from his pocket.
"She has an ego," Soren said calmly. "A large one. It was unrealistic to expect her to accept our distrust so easily."
He glanced at Damien and Renji. "So… what now?"
A brief pause.
"We just made another enemy."
"She won't be a priority," Renji replied. "From what we can infer, her focus is on the Crimson Devils. Compared to that, we're a minor issue—especially given our current level of power."
Jiwon exhaled. "We still have a problem."
"What?" Damien asked, looking over.
"Soren and I are weaker than you two."
Damien frowned slightly. "But your abilities—don't they allow you to—"
He trailed off.
Silence settled before Soren sighed.
"Our abilities are progressive," he explained. "We're strong because of who trained us, but that person doesn't compare to your level. Not yet, at least."
"Reisei," he continued, "is more defensive than offensive in our current state."
Renji tilted his head. "So what exactly do you want us to do?"
"If I'm correct," Soren said, "Reisei allows us to adapt over time. With each confrontation, we evolve—incrementally."
Renji and Damien exchanged a glance.
Damien narrowed one eye slightly. "So you want us to fight you… so you can catch up to our level?"
Soren nodded once.
Jiwon nodded repeatedly, barely containing his excitement.
"That's reasonable," Renji said with a shrug. "We can do that."
Jiwon's grin widened. "So when do we start?"
"We'll head back to the dorms first," Renji replied.
Damien and Renji turned, the others following as they made their way back.
The sun had climbed to its peak, heat settling heavily over the academy. Light streamed into the headmaster's office, reflecting off the polished obsidian desk.
"Like, boy, I've told you multiple times—I don't want to deal with you," Victoria said, sitting casually on the desk as she flicked her hair. "Besides, I already have my eyes on someone else."
A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, her tone shifting slightly.
"Didn't I tell you to stop sitting on my desk?" Mr. Paton's voice was low, controlled.
He sat in his chair, elbow resting on the armrest, his face supported by his fist. His purple gaze locked onto hers, irritation barely concealed.
"Ugh," Victoria groaned, her blush vanishing as she rolled her eyes. "You're so boring."
"Get. Off. My. Desk."
She slid off slowly, brushing imaginary dust from her clothes. "Whatever."
"Oh, right," she added, turning and leaning against the desk. "How are the new boys doing?"
Mr. Paton's eye twitched before he exhaled.
"From what I've gathered, they've made enemies of the Crimson Devils, particularly Damien Fuller. They've also managed to antagonize the Shadow Organization."
"Shadow Organization?" Victoria raised an eyebrow. "How did they manage that?"
"That's enough questions," he said flatly, reaching for a file. "Go make me something to eat."
"Ugh, so bossy," she muttered. Then, with a smirk, "But that's what I like about you."
"Find someone else to like."
Victoria blinked. "I'm putting poison in your food."
She turned and walked to the large mahogany door, pulling it open and slamming it shut behind her.
Mr. Paton flinched slightly, staring at the door for a moment before sighing and returning to his documents.
Mr. Paton slowly flipped through a set of documents.
They detailed the four boys, their age, height, physical capabilities. Under each category, one note appeared repeatedly:
'Continuously changing.'
His gaze shifted to a smaller section.
'Sponsors: The Observer.'
He blinked, then muttered under his breath, "People always pick the most ridiculous names just to sound important." A pause. "Still… they're paying well. I can overlook a few problems."
Outside, the wind picked up.
The sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering to the slow rise of the moon.
That night, the four slept in rare peace.
Jiwon snored loudly, sprawled without care. Damien's breathing was steady, a faint snore slipping through. Soren remained still, his breaths quiet and controlled. Renji was almost silent, barely a presence at all.
The next day began a routine.
Wake up. Eat in the cafeteria with Renji and Damien casually served by the cat-like attendants who treated them with near reverence. Return to the dorms. Laze around. Attend lessons when required, only to sit through them in boredom.
Days blurred.
Then weeks.
A month passed.
One late afternoon, inside Soren and Renji's room.
"I think we're getting too relaxed," Jiwon said.
"Huh?" Damien responded, pausing mid-motion as he tossed a pillow into the air.
"We need to take this seriously," Jiwon continued. "Maybe you and Renji can survive the Blood Festival… but I doubt Soren and I can."
He pointed toward Soren.
Silence followed.
"Alright,"Damien said flatly. "Then we prepare."
Another pause.
"For the BloodFestival."
A beat passed before Damien sat up, a grin spreading across his face.
"That was hard, wasn't it?"
Jiwon raised his hand immediately. "Man, you know it."
They slapped hands.
Soren smirked.
Renji shook his head, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.
The routine changed.
Afternoons became brutal.
Damien and Renji activated their Wi, pushing their bodies to the limit as they fought Soren and Jiwon relentlessly again and again, driving them to the edge of collapse.
Day after day.
Until only one week remained before the Blood Festival.
In a dark room, ten figures sat around a circular table.
At the center sat Oliver.
Half-dressed, relaxed and smiling.
A severed head rested on the table before him.
Anna.
"Is it next week?" he asked, not waiting for an answer.
"So we can finally kill that bitter woman… and the one who killed my brother?"
His green eyes flashed.
"Oh… this will be fun."
A low chuckle filled the room.
Around him, the others remained silent only their silhouettes visible, each radiating a suffocating presence.
Elsewhere, across campus:
Inside an abandoned warehouse.
Mary sat in an office chair, her expression unreadable.
"Prepare the men," she said calmly. "We cannot afford to lose this time."
"And the four, ma'am?" one of her subordinates asked.
Mary glanced at him, then scoffed.
"What about them? They look weak. Just a group of pretty faces." Her tone was dismissive. "They'll die to Oliver or in the crossfire. At best, Damon's death was luck."
"Bu—"
"Don't ruin my mood," she cut him off.
Silence followed.
Back in the dormitories.
The four sat in a circle.
"Is it next week?" Renji asked.
"Hm," Soren responded.
"Why are we talking so seriously," Jiwon suddenly said, "like we weren't just arguing about whether a guy can find another guy attractive without being gay?"
The other three slowly turned toward him with blank expressions and synchronized blinking.
Jiwon nodded rapidly as he tasted his lips. "Yeah… I'll shut the fuck up."
"Anyways," Damien said, leaning back slightly, "at least we prepared for—"
"The Blood Festival."
Stay tuned for the new arc.
Stay tuned for death.
Stay tuned for the festival of blood.
Let the streets run red.
Let the walls be painted.
Let those who scream meet their end.
Let those who laugh invoke terror.
Let Chopstill Academy become an academy of the dead.
Let it overflow with blood.
For all are welcome…
To the Blood Festival.