“You know that name?” Aizawa immediately backtracked, looking at Olivia.

  “Before all this I went to get you to see something Damien had written down,” Olivia explained.

  After a brief pause, Aizawa sighed. “We don’t have much time for this.”

  He looked to Perola, who was still standing beside Shinso. His lips parted, and words hesitantly began to spill from them.

  “If we help you with your cause and helping the kingdom, I better see Isaac on my doorstep by the end of the week.”

  Hearing those words, Perola scoffed. “The end of the week? We’re charity workers, not miracle troupers.”

  Aizawa took a step forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. “If you don’t stick to your promise, your tails will be hanging above my friends’ fireplace.”

  “Alright, there’s no need for redundant threats.” Perola reached into her pocket, taking out a key.

  Shinso’s eyes glistened with a small amount of hope as she slid the key into the hole in the padlock keeping him secured to the wall. The moment the chain fell loose on the ground, Shinso bolted from captivity and towards Aizawa, wrapping him in an uncharacteristic hug.

  “And god forbid you touch anyone… I’ll head over to the Katshin Empire and burn it to ashes.”

  Perola chuckled. “We’re not from there, but… we’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

  “Just tell me what the hell you want me to do now,” Aizawa grumbled.

  Felonious—who had recovered from the hit to the groin—stood up and brushed the dust off of his garments. After breathing in some much-needed air, he let out a shaky sigh and pointed to the door.

  “Leave with your friends, and be back by tomorrow afternoon for our meeting.”

  Aizawa, Shinso, and Olivia all nodded in uneasy unison as they headed one by one out the door. After they had all left, Francis and Fatima sighed.

  “They better bring that coffee they took us out for, it was quite delicious.”

  Suddenly, Perola’s eyes flickered with a faint crimson, and she slumped forward. Before she could hit the ground, Losalzo caught her.

  Perola’s breath came out in short, exasperated gasps as she looked up at him. “I-I didn’t want to do any of that; it’s not like me to pose such a threat.”

  “Pfft.” Francis made a noise and folded his arms. “Meanwhile, Mr. Ink N’ Scruff over here would gladly slit someone’s throat if it means…”

  He felt his words trail off for a moment, his breath hitching in his chest. Fatima looked at him, her eyes widening. “What is it?”

  Francis stumbled back, collapsing onto the couch. He let out a low groan, a sizzling noise suddenly emanating across the room, catching everyone's attention. Francis’s usually dark-colored eyes glazed over with a blood-red hue.

  “N-no… I apologize for that…” He mumbled, his voice carrying a faint quiver.

  “What’s… happening to him?” Monsour’s brows furrowed in an almost analytical fashion.

  At that moment, Francis coughed up an immense amount of blood, causing Fatima to shriek in horror and leap off the couch, rushing to Perola’s side.

  “Someone, do something! Please!”

  “By Mother Nature Herself,” Monsour rushed over to Francis, who was now spasming on the couch. His hands wrapped around his back as he lifted him into the air.

  “Move the furniture, now!”

  Everyone in the room immediately complied. One by one, every piece of furniture in the room was shuffled to the corners, giving Francis enough space to be lowered to the ground.

  “I-is this a seizure?” Felonious asked, his tail ducking between his legs.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “It could be… but I’ve never seen someone talk during one,” Monsour’s voice lowered to a whisper as he stepped back, letting the rest of the incident play out.

  “Y-you’re just letting him suffer like that?” Fatima sputtered, palpably taken aback by Monsour’s course of action.

  “It’s necessary to let him have room. He’ll recover from this ordeal momentarily if it lines up with my suspicions.”

  “S-stop… Now… I can’t…” Francis continued to sputter words, his voice gradually weakening and growing dim.

  The sizzling sound in the room centered on Francis, as the center of his forehead, began to boil and buzz as if made of liquid. The navy vulpur involuntarily yelped in pain, his body arching upwards.

  “W-what’s happening to him?” Fatima gasped.

  Francis’s eyes abruptly shot open as he leaned up, sweat beaming down his face. His expression, filled with pain and worry, gradually softened. He looked around for a moment, noticing the concerned looks of his comrades and the furniture segregated to the far corners of the room.

  “Felonious, write to Kael… he says it's imperative.”

  …

  I threw another punch, only for it to meet stale, freezing air. When I took a half-step forward to recover my posture, Kael had already ducked behind me, chuckling to himself as if amused by my lack of fighting knowledge.

  “I should have taught you hand-to-hand combat, that’d make the fight much more interesting.”

  I didn’t care what he was saying to me. All I could focus on at the moment was landing a clear punch—a task I could only currently fathom. At this rate, Kael was darting around like an arrow, dodging every punch, kick, and attack from my front as if he had anticipated it days in advance.

  When I turned around to face him, he had vanished once again. I stumbled back, a rush of trepidation making the tiny hairs of my arms stand on end. My fists, clenched taut and pale-white, only constricted further.

  Wham!

  A kick greeted my back, sending me forward into the snow face-first. Kael stood over me like some sort of proud, ambitious ruler looking down at his subjects.

  “You do know your chances of winning here are… inscrutable, but it’s all the more enjoyable to see you try.”

  “Quiet!” I leapt to my feet, scurrying away just in time to dodge Kael’s next attack—a fireball that surely would have charred a large portion of my back.

  I darted over to him, my illusory wings stretching outwards like hands, trying feebly to ensnare Kael in my grip. But he was too quick, too precise—I could tell the only enjoyment he reaped from this engagement was gawking at my feebleness, my inability to attack him. This was a demi-god with a thousand years of expertise, compared to a fifteen year old boy who could only struggle to land a singular hit.

  “It’s pitiful, really,” Kael smirked, more flames leaving his palm as he tossed them directly at the wings on my back.

  I only managed to narrowly dodge the attack, recovering just in time to know Kael’s fist was mere millimeters from my chin. The hit landed as I knew it would, sending me backwards—I had also bit my tongue, so now my mouth was bleeding. In the mere moments I was falling backwards, Kael kicked me directly in the chest, ripping the wind right out of my lungs.

  Before I could even try to breathe in, Kael’s heel planted dead center on my chest, pressing down with a vengeance. He leaned in close, his breath icy cold on my cheek.

  “Now, let’s see how Clifton will hear the story of someone like you… shall we?”

  I could barely speak—it hurt a ton to even breathe in. Though, I still had enough strength to do one thing, spit.

  I spat on Kael’s face, fresh blood from the wound in my mouth now coating his left cheek. Kael’s expression didn’t change for a moment as his hand lifted to the spot where the blood had gathered, mixed and middled with the slightly sticky saliva.

  As he dragged his finger along it—the almost adhesive nature of my spit mixed with blood coating his fingertips, creating a small web in between his fingers—he brought the mixture to his lips, licking them.

  A sudden, rippling pain tore through my back, causing me to cry out and grit my teeth.

  “Seekers of the Apocalypse Pathway have blood manipulation. By absorbing the blood of another being, they can openly manipulate any wounds present… including the pretty little one lodged within your back,” Kael explained in an almost teasing manner.

  “S-stop… please!” I bit my lip so hard I thought my teeth would tear through the pink, swollen flesh.

  This torture continued for a seemingly unfathomable amount of time before Kael finally relented, stepping back and scoffing to himself.

  “Let’s head back home, shall we?” Kael unclenched his fist, now extending his hand to me.

  “I can’t move…” My voice was raspy from all the moaning and yelling.

  “Well then, let me assist you.” Kael heaved me onto his shoulders, transforming into his Titan form and running off through the forest.

  Sooner rather than later, we arrived at Clifton. By the time Kael returned to normal, re-emerging from the forest with me on his back, both the Seraphis rogues and Clifton citizens had gotten well acquainted. They continued to converse with each other around the fire.

  Kael looked back to me, smiling as he slowly set me down next to a lit fire. The warmth of the flames immediately filled my body with a numbing sensation that felt almost pleasurable. Though—at this current moment—I felt no pleasure whatsoever.

  Everyone around me was unknowingly playing into Kael’s hands, their sense of sanctity and unity was nothing but a tell-tale sign, an extrusion that Kael had done his work already. All he needed was to pull the cord, and everything would unravel in the blink of an eye.

  Only one thought ran laps in my mind: they had to know. Even if Kael would torture me for days, maybe even weeks on end if I told them, it was better than sitting amongst the chaos like I saw in that vision. My lips parted a little, a low groan passing them.

  “K-Kael…”

  “Come again?” One of the citizens of Clifton looked in my direction, a small smile on their face.

  “Kael… Kael wants you all dead! You’re simply being set up!—”

  It all went black before I could finish my sentence.