Lucas's Perspective:
4/10/2017 - 9:15 AM
Location: Outskirts of Hollowpine Forest, Early Morning
Ah yes. My new crew.
Emotionless NPC. Reflexive Sword Saint. And me—Lucas, the last-minute main character with a bad luck problem and a system with a God complex.
Last night, in the bar, I pitched the idea of calling us TEAM ACE. Thought it was slick, short, easy to slap on some merchandise later.
Navina said no.
Azrael… stared. Blank. Cold. Basically a walking "Access Denied" screen.
That was until my dear system, ever the comedic genius, hijacked my mouth and said:
"Suicide Squad."
Yeah. I choked on my drink mid-laugh. Almost died. Which would've been ironic.
Navina chuckled. Azrael blinked once. And just like that—Suicide Squad was born.
Stupid system.
「 You're welcome. The name suits your survival rate. Which is zero if I go on break. 」
Anyway. That brings us to today.
Clear skies. Birds chirping. The scent of forest dew in the air. And three potentially dangerous individuals walking toward an open field, probably about to beat the life out of each other. For training. Friendship. Or just… fun?
I walked ahead, Navina beside me, her steps light and almost soundless. She walked like a breeze—graceful, unbothered, like the world wasn't fast enough to catch her.
She looked my way with that sharp grin of hers. The kind that made you feel like she already knew what you were going to say next.
Behind us, Azrael followed. Silent. Unmoving expression. Same dead stare as always.
I glanced back. Still there. Still walking like someone who spawned in five minutes ago and hadn't loaded a soul yet due to ping delay.
I leaned toward Navina a bit and said casually, "He blinked. That's new."
Navina tilted her head, amusement twinkling in her blue eyes. "Did he? Be careful. That might've been his way of smiling."
I snorted. "If that's his smile, I don't wanna see his anger."
She laughed softly. It wasn't fake. It wasn't showy. Just… free. "You're funny," she said, brushing some loose strands of blond hair behind her ear. "Lucas, right? From the Asura noble line?"
"Yeah." I rolled my shoulders. "Not a fan of the house parties and butler drama, so I ran off. You know how it is."
"Oh, I do." She smirked. "I was born a noble in Celestine. But I never stayed in the courts. I grew up on the eastside—near the cliffs, where the wind hits harder and the nobles don't bother looking."
She didn't say it in a sad way. More like a brag. And damn, did it sound cool.
"I like it better that way," she continued. "No silk puppets. Just people who can stab and smile at the same time. Like me."
I whistled. "Stab and smile. Sword Saint of Reflex and sass."
She shot me a sideways glance. "Well, I do switch fast."
"Is that a threat or a pickup line?"
Navina grinned again, showing just a little tooth. "Why not both?"
Oh, this girl was dangerous.
「 She's out of your league, bro. Stay in your stats. 」
Behind us, I checked again. Yep. Azrael. Still there.
Still walking like his soul clocked out and left him on autopilot.
Navina followed my glance and asked, "Is he always like that?"
"Yup," I said. "He's like one of those cutscene characters. You can't skip 'em, but they don't say anything either."
"Do you think he sleeps standing up?"
"I think he is half-dead when no one's looking."
She chuckled again. "I actually tried speaking to him last night. Asked him if he wanted tea."
"What'd he say?"
"He didn't. Just stared. I think he was analyzing the tea's moral alignment."
"…Neutral Good?"
"Chaotic Decaf."
We both laughed as we finally reached the grassy clearing. The forest behind us hummed, and the cave we were destined to enter loomed a few miles forward, dark and waiting.
I stretched a little, cracked my neck, feeling the magic circulate. It buzzed through me like a hum, all smooth thanks to the AI system. Didn't even need to focus on controlling it.
「 You're welcome, again. Without me, you'd be using that mana to light a campfire. Poorly. 」
I ignored him.
Navina pulled her sword out, twirled it once like she was showing off, but not really. Just muscle memory. Her style was fluid, efficient, and terrifyingly fast.
She looked at me, smile soft but eyes sharp. "So? You gonna show me what the 'Ace of Asura' can do?"
I gave her a grin. "Only if you promise not to cry when I win."
"Oh, sweetheart." Her eyes narrowed. "I switch faster than most people move. If you win, I'll kiss Azrael."
"Now that—" I pointed back at our NPC, still blankly staring into the void—"is the most horrifying threat I've ever heard."
Navina just smirked again.
Gods help me, I think I actually like this team.
Even if we're called Suicide Squad.
The field was silent.
Well, as silent as a bunch of birds screeching, leaves rustling, and Azrael walking behind us like a bootleg mannequin could get. But to me, it was perfect.
Navina stood opposite me, brushing her hair behind her ear like she was posing for a magazine cover instead of a spar. Elegant, calm, and smiling like she didn't plan to break at least three of my ribs.
I cracked my neck, rolled my shoulders, and stretched my fingers.
「Initiating spar protocols. Chance of you getting bodied: 52%. Chance of you crying after: 96%.」
Thanks, System. Very motivating.
Navina took a single step forward. Her right hand gripped her sword. Her left? Already shimmering, particles swirling as she formed that... whatever she was gonna.
Reflex Queen versus Light. Let's go.
I moved first.
A single flash—light exploded around me as mirrors blinked into existence midair. One above, two flanking me, angled just right. I twisted my hand and shot a beam—not at her directly, but at the upper mirror. It bounced, refracted, split, and—
FWOOSH.
She sidestepped the incoming bolt before it had even launched.
Oh yeah. Sword Saint of Reflex. Forgot for a second.
But this wasn't just about hitting her. This was about reading her.
I stepped forward. Fast.
She met me with a sword swing—graceful, precise, like she choreographed it in her sleep. I ducked under, sliding forward with momentum, letting a burst of wind magic push me faster underneath her stance.
She twirled—instinct, grace—and hopped back just a step.
Good.
I slammed my heel down. Five mirrors exploded into place around her. She narrowed her eyes.
"Cornering me already?" she teased.
"Not cornering," I replied, hands glowing. "Just shining a light on how much of a menace you are."
The beams fired—five streaks of pure light bounced and converged from all angles.
She twisted. Twirled. A blur of movement so fast it looked like she split into afterimages. Her sword flicked, deflecting one beam, while her other hand summoned that thing again. A glacio-built barrel, sleek and almost translucent, appeared mid-spin.
With a flick—shhk!
A sharp ice projectile shot straight at me.
「Duck, dumbass.」
I rolled sideways just in time, ice grazing the edge of my coat. Still cold as hell. Still not dead. All good.
"You can do that while moving?!" I called, genuinely curious.
She grinned, forming another gun in her hand. "I can do it while drinking tea."
She was switching elemental weapons mid-motion—almost dancing, really. One second she was up close, dodging beams with pirouettes, the next she was snapping her wrist and firing bolts of ice and frost.
But I noticed it.
The slightest hesitation when switching—between forming the projectiles and aiming. Not even half a second. But to me?
That was enough.
I rushed her again.
My hands burned gold as I formed two mirrored daggers—short, sharp, and bursting with kinetic light energy. She twitched at my sudden burst in speed—maybe surprised I'd closed the gap so fast. Or maybe she was just toying with me.
I slashed down, crossing the blades in an arc. She ducked, stepped left, countered with a rising kick that almost knocked the air out of me, but I twisted and landed a light-empowered punch straight into her side.
She grunted.
A real hit.
Her boots skidded against the grass as she slid back, flipping mid-motion and summoning another gun. Water this time.
"You're tricky," she muttered.
"You're a walking target miss," I shot back.
I didn't give her time to aim.
I created six more mirrors in a dome around us. Her eyes widened.
The mirrors pulsed—every one charging light beams. She dashed to break out, sword cleaving through one—only to find it regenerating behind her. My system synced the reflections, stacking power. The air began to heat.
「Beam Matrix: 87% charged. You better finish this or I'm calling the coroner.」
"Noted!"
She looked around, gauging escape. But I saw it—her feet adjusting, her center low. She was prepping for a burst dash.
I smiled.
And fired.
Twelve beams of raw refracted light shot toward her from all angles—like a golden cage of death—
And she—
She moved.
Faster than before. Reflex snapping in. Her body curved, ducked, twisted between the light as if she predicted every beam's angle before they fired.
But—
One clipped her shoulder.
A faint burn. Her ice-gun shattered.
She landed, breath heavier than before.
I stood there, panting.
She looked at her arm, then up at me with a smirk.
"Alright," she said. "Your turn to dodge, Lightbulb."
I wiped a bit of dust off my shoulder, twirling one of my light daggers between my fingers with a smug grin.
"At this rate," I teased, "you're gonna lose... and you'll have to kiss Azrael."
Navina froze mid-step.
Her head snapped toward me so fast I thought she might dislocate something. "It was a joke!" she barked, cheeks dusted pink. "Don't you dare make it weird!"
I shrugged, laughing under my breath as I stretched my hand out, summoning fresh mirrors into the air. "Too late," I said, playful. "We're all thinking about it now. Especially Azrael."
Behind me, Azrael just stood there, motionless as ever, but I swore if you stared hard enough, his left eyebrow twitched. Probably calculating the social consequences.
I rotated my wrist, light weaving into a soft glow as I patched my body up with healing magic. Even if I wasn't hurt much, it felt... nice. Like fixing cracks before they became earthquakes.
Navina exhaled deeply, rolling her shoulders back.
"Enough jokes," she said, her voice cooling, smoothing into something sharper. "It's time to lock in."
She placed her sword down into the ground with care, like laying a sleeping child to rest. The wind brushed her hair up, light caught on her outline like she belonged to another world entirely.
And then—
Instead of forming tiny projectiles like before, she flexed her fingers outward, conjuring two glowing shapes into existence.
At first, I didn't get it.
But then they fully materialized.
And I blinked.
"...Wait... are those—?" My words got stuck halfway out.
They looked like long-barreled muskets, except sleeker, designed from flowing elemental magic instead of iron and wood. In her left hand, a larger barrel crackling with raw ice energy; in her right, a sleeker, shorter one humming with condensed fire particles.
No way.
No freaking way.
Navina tilted her head slightly, smirking at my dumbfounded expression.
"These," she said proudly, "are Arcflingers. Weapons designed to channel pure elemental surges at high velocity."
I just stood there, my mouth probably halfway to the floor.
"...They're guns," I muttered under my breath.
「Analyzing: 99.99% probability Navina just invented an entire warfare concept centuries too early.」
In desperation, I whispered inside my mind:
System, how the hell did she come up with guns before guns existed?!
「Talent. Cope harder.」
I wanted to scream. But instead, I just tightened my grip, summoning six more mirrors in a wide circular array around me, preparing for hell.
And hell arrived.
The moment the battle resumed, it was like watching the world break.
Navina blurred forward—not charging, not sprinting—but moving with this inhuman flow, almost teleporting between spaces.
Her presence expanded outward like a crashing tide. The environment shifted around her. The grass flattened, the air itself whined under the pressure of her steps.
BAM!
The first Arcflinger—ice variant—fired.
A bullet of compressed frost tore through the air, whistling past my ear. I ducked instinctively, heart hammering.
Before I could even blink—
SWITCH.
Another Arcflinger materialized in her left hand, faster than sight.
BOOM!
A molten burst of fire exploded near my left flank.
She wasn't firing, then reloading.
She was firing, dropping the weapon into magical particles mid-shot, summoning a fresh weapon in her hand, and shooting again—all in a single, seamless, horrifying chain of motion.
「Warning: Navina's quick-switching exceeds standard human reaction limits. Estimated: 4 switches per second. Tactical presence: Lethal.」
Yeah, no kidding.
She wasn't just switching elements—she was weaving them into the very air.
Ice froze the ground wherever the shots landed. Fire scorched the terrain into cracked black scars. Water bullets turned the battlefield muddy and treacherous, then seconds later, earth-based shots would turn it to spikes.
She was the storm.
Every step she took sent ripples through the ground. Every flick of her hand birthed a new death-dealing Arcflinger.
It wasn't just deadly—it was beautiful.
Her coat fluttered behind her like a banner. Her hair moved in synchrony with the wind she created. Her movements, so fast, left faint glowing trails across the air.
Navina, The Flow of Reflex.
Or
The Suicidal Playstyle.
I barely survived the first few seconds, mirrors flaring to life one after another, trying to deflect the onslaught. Light magic stretched and twisted around me like a desperate shield.
My heart raced.
My mouth stretched into a grin.
This was going to be fun.
The fight had become chaos incarnate.
Light curved around me like an elegant spiderweb—twelve mirrors orbiting at breakneck speeds, each one glowing, pulsing, bending space as I angled them mid-air with micro-adjustments. My eyes twitched from mirror to mirror, already processing dozens of future reflections and bounce points. It was like juggling stars.
Across from me, Navina's hands blurred.
One. Two. Four. Eight.
She was quick-switching eight times per second now—elemental Arcflingers blinking in and out of reality like flickering ghosts, each one firing in perfect rhythm.
Water. Fire. Ice. Earth. Electricity. Wind. Light. Darkness.
It was like she was playing the piano with the battlefield itself.
BOOM!
A shot of compressed wind smashed into my barrier.
CRACK!
A frozen blast collided with a mirror, which redirected it back—only for her to counter with a heat-round that melted it mid-flight.
"You're really not holding back anymore," I muttered, lips curved in a smile.
Navina's voice rang clear through the elemental storm, elegant and proud.
"You teased me about kissing Azrael. This is your punishment."
"Was it that traumatic?"
"Yes."
"…Understandable."
She extended her arms wide, a glowing elemental circle forming behind her—a dazzling multicolored magic array that absorbed every element she had fired so far. It whirled like a vortex, sucking the elemental chaos into itself.
Then—
WHOOMPH.
A massive shield—no, a wall of swirling multi-elemental magic—rose before her. Fire traced its edges. Ice cracked across its surface. Electricity veined its core. Water flowed like a heartbeat. Earth anchored its base. Wind howled across its form. And at its center, pure light and darkness spiraled in equilibrium.
"Now that's cheating," I gasped.
Navina smirked behind the shield, wind whipping through her hair. "I call it elegance."
I raised both hands and snapped my fingers.
The twelve mirrors exploded outward like comets, forming an interlocking spiral as beams of light lanced through them, bending, splitting, converging.
"Then let me ruin that elegance."
Light bullets ricocheted across the field, bending around corners and slicing through angles that shouldn't even exist. She dodged like she was dancing, each movement perfectly in sync with my attacks.
Until suddenly—we clashed.
I surged forward, daggers of hard-light in hand, slashing in rapid succession. She dropped both Arcflingers, and her sword was already in her hand.
Steel met photon.
Her blade hit mine in sparks and speed.
I twisted. She parried. She spun. I blinked behind her.
Her elbow cracked into my ribs before I could land the next strike.
"Sloppy," she said.
"Hot," I replied mid-cough.
"Focus!" she shouted, spinning her sword to deflect my next flurry.
I stepped on a mirror below me, using its launch to flip over her—tossing both light daggers down from the sky.
But she vanished, replaced by smoke and blur.
Then—
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
She was back at range, quick-switching again, faster than before. Eight times per second turned into a blur. My mirrors were struggling now, light beams countered before they were even fully fired.
"You're insane!" I shouted over the roar.
"You're catching up!" she answered, smiling so brightly you'd forget she was trying to kill me.
Back and forth. Close combat.
Range. Slash. Fire. Slash. Light. Ice. Lightning. Shield. Deflect. Water. Mirror. Explosion. Ground crack.
The arena we made wasn't a field anymore. It was a symphony of destruction.
And in the final crescendo—
We both vanished.
I dashed forward with blinding light speed. She countered with a spiral of wind-enhanced footwork.
Her sword plunged toward my heart as well as her Arcflingers aimed at me.
My mirrored dagger curved in toward hers.
In the span of one breath—the air stopped.
SHINK.
A ice bullet to my chest.
A light beam to hers.
We froze, inches apart.
Then—
She broke the silence.
"…Ouch."
I blinked. "…Yeah. That… probably counts as a draw, right?"
Navina's legs gave out first. She dropped to the ground on her back, arms sprawled wide, panting.
I followed a second later, falling beside her and staring up at the sky.
Wind swept across us gently. A few wisps of steam curled off our bodies as we both used healing magic while resting.
Then—
We both laughed.
But the kind of laugh you let out when you've tasted everything you've got and it was still worth it.
"That…" she gasped.
"…was amazing," I finished for her.
She turned her head to look at me, eyes shining.
"Let's do it again sometime."
"Next time… you're kissing Azrael."
She groaned, covering her face with one hand.
"You're the worst."
"And you're the most terrifyingly suicidal lunatic I've ever met."
Her lips quirked.
"…Flattered."
-------------------------------------------------------------- Part 2
Sitting on a half-snapped tree with ash in my lungs, bark in my hair, and my shirt sliced in seven different places—I had never felt cooler in my life.
Navina plopped down next to me, her sword stabbed lazily into the ground, still humming with faint elemental residues like it was mildly annoyed the fight was over. Her breathing was slow, collected—like someone who'd just taken a casual jog instead of, you know, trying to stab my heart.
I leaned back, arms resting on the ruined bark. "So," I said between gulps of air, "you almost killed me. How's your evening going?"
She turned her head, lips curled. "Better now. You didn't die."
"Flattering."
"You were faster than last time," she added, brushing strands of hair from her cheek. "Those mirror tricks… I nearly lost my balance twice."
"Twice?" I scoffed. "I counted five."
"You were too busy dodging my eighth elemental switch to notice."
「 System Note: She's not wrong. You looked like a blind chicken mid-roll. 」
Shut up.
Navina chuckled, ruffling her hair slightly. A few curled strands dangled forward like they'd lost a war with physics. I tilted my head.
"Your hair's… kinda wrecked. Looks like it tried to fight me too."
She blinked, then gave a soft laugh. "I suppose it did."
Digging into her coat pocket, she pulled out a small, really old wooden comb. Worn edges. Tiny cracks. The kind of thing you'd find in a memory box, not a battle pouch.
I raised a brow. "If you don't mind me asking… why the antique? Thought you were rich. Like buy-a-city level rich."
She gave a short breath. "If this is about last night, don't mind it."
Ah, last night.
"When you said you'd buy the bar just to have a private chat with me and Azrael?" I smirked. "The whole place froze. That was some 'I own the place' energy."
Navina grinned. "I could've bought it."
"But you didn't?"
She shrugged, still combing through the loose curls. "Didn't feel important. I just wanted to talk."
I exhaled, laughing. "You say that like buying buildings is your hobby."
"It used to be," she teased.
"…You're terrifying."
We both let the silence take over for a moment, the wind brushing through scorched leaves around us. I glanced sideways again.
"So back to the comb," I said. "Still looks like something found in ancient abandon cities."
Navina paused, fingers gently sliding through her hair. "…A close friend gave it to me. Long time ago. During childhood."
I didn't speak right away. "Oh."
"His name was Aeris," she said, voice softer now. "He was younger than me. Sweet. Caring. One of the few people who didn't ask for anything or lie to me."
"Sounds like a good kid." I leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Where is he now?"
She didn't look at me, her eyes on the comb. "We only met once."
That made me pause.
"…Only once?"
"Mm." Her voice dipped slightly. "During a… sad time. He helped me when I was alone. That's all."
I caught the hesitation. The way her voice didn't crack, but chose not to. She didn't want to go there.
So I didn't push.
"Well, who knows," I said, stretching my legs. "Maybe you'll meet him again someday."
Navina hugged her knees lightly, hiding her mouth behind them. "…Maybe. It'll be nice then."
And just barely—barely—I saw it.
A blush.
My eyes narrowed with the accuracy of a hawk.
"…Oh my gods," I whispered. "Is that a blush? Are you blushing? You're into him!"
She flinched. "W-What?! No! I was a child!"
"Childhood crush detected."
「 Alert: Heartbeat spiked. Subject: Navina. Emotional fluctuation registered. Lucas.exe initiating TEASE MODE. 」
I cracked up. "Navina likes Aeris~"
"I don't! It's not like that!" Her ears were turning red now.
"Oh no. The queen of quick-switch has a soft side. This is adorable."
"Lucas." She glared with zero heat behind it. "I will unalive you."
"Please, I'm too hot to die."
She threw the comb at me.
I caught it. Barely.
"…Okay, maybe I deserved that one."
Navina crossed her arms, nose in the air. "You ruined it."
"You blushed. That's a historic event."
She shook her head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "moron."
And then—
Crunch.
Footsteps.
We both turned at the exact same time.
Azrael walked through the burning treeline like a murder ghost. Poker face. Crystal eyes. Torn sleeves. Still somehow spotless.
He looked at the two of us—me with comb in hand, Navina with puffy cheeks and glowing ears—and blinked.
"…Am I interrupting something?"
I held up the comb. "It's not what it looks like."
He glanced at Navina. Then at me.
"…You're both idiots."
「 Welcome back, emotionless king. 10/10 timing, would roast again. 」
Before I could get another word in, a fat raindrop slapped the side of my face. Then another. Then it was like someone dumped a whole lake on us.
"Ah, seriously?" I muttered.
Without saying anything, all three of us darted towards a cave nearby. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to not drown.
We stumbled inside, dripping wet and cold.
I whispered inside my head, Yo, system, little help?
「 Deploying wind magic: low-intensity. Activating Dry Mode™.」
A soft gust swirled around us, drying my clothes and hair quickly. Navina leaned against the cave wall, arms wrapped around herself. She was still shaking a little.
I frowned. "Hey, you good?"
She shook her head quickly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I'm fine."
Outside, the rain only got angrier, hammering the ground.
System, check her real quick.
「 Body temperature normal. No physical signs of illness. Diagnosis: Drama queen potential... 78%. 」
I sighed in relief. But then Navina coughed, a small, broken sound, and looked... frail. Her usual sparkle dulled.
I stepped closer. "Navina, seriously. What's wrong?"
Again, she shook her head. "I'm okay… really."
System, dude?
「 Still fine. No illness detected. 」
Then, without warning, Azrael sat down right next to her, like a silent ghost.
He grabbed her hand — firm, steady. Not asking. Just doing.
Navina looked up at him, wide-eyed.
I sat there, mouth half open like an idiot, wondering if I'd missed some weird telepathic exchange.
Uh, system? Explain?
「 Observation: No visible threat. Hypothesis: Navina is perhaps suffering from psychological trauma triggered by environmental factors such as the rain and cave context. Azrael detected it through her frail microexpressions and distress holding herself together. Acting as the warmth, connecting to her by the hands he is calming her down. Conclusion: Azrael is horrifyingly good at reading human weakness very quickly.」
...Holy hell. That's terrifying.
Navina opened her mouth, but only a tiny sound came out, almost a whimper.
Azrael stared at her hand, cold and unreadable.
"You'll be fine," he said, voice low, deep, steady as a heartbeat. "You're just cold."
Navina tried to pull her hand back. "I'm not a kid, you know. I don't need to—"
"Your hands are cold," Azrael said, like it was law. "I will not let go until they warm."
Navina glared half-heartedly, cheeks slightly pink. She tugged again. His grip didn't budge.
Their eyes locked. His empty broken eyes. Her guarded blue ones.
For a second, just a second, something changed in her.
A flicker of something old.
A memory:
A stormy night. A dark cave.
A boy—black hair, black eyes—kneeling beside her, shivering but still holding her hand tightly.
Her breath hitched. She blinked fast, like she could chase the memory away.
"I… umm…"
Azrael didn't flinch. He just shifted his hold slightly, wrapping both hands around hers, blank as always maintaing a poker face and neutral voice.
"I will not let go," he said. "Until you calm down."
Navina looked down at their joined hands, hesitating. Her body tensed like she was about to argue.
Then… finally… she gave a tiny, almost invisible nod.
Azrael stayed there, silent, steady as the world kept falling apart outside.
Navina leaned a little into the wall, closing her eyes, still holding onto him.
Her body slowly stopped trembling.
I watched it all unfold, sitting awkwardly nearby, feeling like a side character at a therapy session.
「 You are, in fact, a side character at this moment. Deal with it. 」
I grunted internally.
Outside, the storm raged.
-------------------------------------------------------------- Part 3
Lucas yawned loudly, rubbing the back of his neck.
["System, block all sound. I need to take a nap until the rain clears," he grumbled.]
「 Acknowledged. Activating Silent Bear Mode. 」
Snorting at the stupid name, Lucas flopped onto a dry part of the cave floor, folding his arms behind his head.
"Wake me up if a monster tries to raid us," he muttered before promptly knocking himself out, quietly falling asleep.
Navina's Perspective:
I sat there quietly, my hand still in Azrael's grasp.
The rain outside didn't stop. The hollow, cold sound of it hitting the rocks echoed in the cave.
I glanced at our hands. His grip was firm, unmoving. Like a frozen statue that decided to warm someone up out of sheer... coldness.
"My hands are warm now," I said softly.
Azrael loosened his hold.
The cold bit back into my skin instantly, like the air had been waiting.
Without a word, he clasped my hand again, poker-faced as ever.
I blinked up at him.
"You know... you're kind of bad at pretending you don't care," I said, smiling a little. "Why hide your emotions so much?"
His eyes, fractured and glassy like frozen rivers, didn't even flicker.
"Don't pry."
I huffed. "Come on. It's not like you'll shatter into pieces just because you smile once."
He didn't even blink. "I'm holding your hand because I need you alive for the grotesque hive eradication," he said flatly.
"...Ah. Of course. Just business."
The words felt heavier than I thought they would. I looked away, pretending I didn't care either. "Right. Mutual goals and all," I muttered under my breath.
He nodded, completely unaffected.
Still, he kept holding my hand.
Azrael's voice broke the gentle rhythm of the rain.
"...The old comb you're carrying. Is it from an old friend?"
I blinked at him, surprised.
My fingers instinctively brushed the little pouch at my side. I hadn't even mentioned it to him at all.
"...How'd you know?"
His face, as always, remained unreadable. "You smiled when you spoke of it. Brief. Not for me. The item is old, yet well-kept. That suggests attachment. Emotional. Not utility-based. Therefore, a gift. From someone special."
I raised a brow, leaning in a bit, intrigued. "Could've been anyone. What made you assume it was a friend?"
Without looking at me, Azrael's grip on my hand subtly tightened.
"If your parents or family gave it to you, the emotional weight would have surfaced differently—softer, more nostalgic. Yours was... sharper. Guarded. That suggests a wound. I hypothesize the comb is the final token from someone who once helped you—before disappearing. Likely via abandonment... or betrayal."
I stared at him in silence.
How the hell did he just pull that entire truth out of me with no more than a smile and a comb...?
Then I burst out laughing, voice echoing slightly against the cave walls. "Gods, you're terrifying. Like, in a scary genius way. Emotionless genius, even."
Azrael didn't blink.
"I see," he said flatly. Then added after a second, "I won't pry either, Navina. You can relax."
His tone didn't change, but something in the way he said my name lingered longer than necessary. He realized my laugh was just there to distract him, and he immediately caught it and didn't pry further.
The rain outside kept falling, dripping steadily like nature's own heartbeat.
He was still holding my hand. Firm. Not affectionate. Just... consistent.
He's so weird.
Azrael... He's like a mirror of Aeris that cracked and froze over.
Aeris used to hold my hand like this once. But he smiled when he did it. He laughed too easily, talked too much. Azrael's the complete opposite. No smiles. No expression. Just veins that look like frost creeping under his skin, and eyes that seem like they're holding back entire traumatic pasts.
Even his face… it's not exactly bad, but it's plain. Average. But the way he talks?
Straight up scary.
Still… he's holding my hand the same way Aeris did.
I frowned to myself, unconsciously pouting.
I wish it was him... not this guy.
Azrael glanced at me, completely deadpan. "Regretting that your emotional support doesn't have prettier cheekbones?"
I snapped my head toward him, startled—then laughed. "You sarcastic statue."
"You're the one pouting like a child," he replied, still not showing even a flicker of amusement.
I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.
"Gods, how are you like this?"
He blinked slowly.
"Genetic misfortune."
I giggled, biting my lip to hide it. The way he said things so seriously made it worse.
Then we just sat there like that.
The cave quiet, the storm outside shielding us from the world. His hand still around mine—cold but warming by the second.
I leaned a little closer, not enough to break the moment, but just enough to feel his presence beside me.
"...Thank you," I whispered.
He didn't answer, but he didn't let go either.
The rain didn't let up.
It poured and poured without mercy, drowning the world in cold silver.
Day slipped into night without warning, and the world outside the cave blurred into a wall of mist and sound.
Somewhere in the haze of exhaustion, I had fallen asleep.
When I woke up, it was still raining.
The sky outside was a deep navy, the kind that almost swallowed the stars whole, leaving only the storm clouds whispering across the heavens.
I sat up slowly, shivering a little.
Lucas was still curled up on the far side of the cave, completely knocked out, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful rhythm. Not even the storm could wake him.
I smiled a little. Typical.
Turning my head, I saw him.
Azrael.
Still sitting exactly where he was hours ago.
Still holding my hand.
His fingers were wrapped around mine, steady. Protective. His body unmoving, his cold blue-veined face turned toward the mouth of the cave, unblinking—like a silent sentinel keeping watch over us.
He hadn't moved all this time.
He hadn't even blinked.
It hit me harder than it should have.
"...You're still here," I whispered, my voice rough with sleep.
His eyes flickered toward me for a second, then returned to the outside.
"You needed rest," he said simply. "So I ensured you had it."
I squeezed his hand gently, feeling something warm and raw crack open inside my chest.
"...You really are something else."
He didn't answer.
For a long moment, it was just the rain speaking for both of us.
I coughed a little, my throat dry. Then, without looking at him, I spoke—voice low, almost fragile.
"...You were right, Azrael. I'm scared of... stormy rains. And cold nights."
I closed my eyes briefly, ashamed.
"Old fears... they don't really go away. They just sleep inside you."
He said nothing, but his hand tightened slightly, anchoring me.
"...Thank you," I whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "For holding my hand. I'll... I'll let go once the rain stops."
Azrael shook his head slowly.
"I am in no hurry."
The words were so simple. So solid.
I nearly cried again.
There was a long silence. Then, Azrael spoke—quietly, almost like confessing a secret to the night.
"...I don't smile," he said.
I turned to him, frowning softly.
"Why?"
He didn't look at me. His voice was level, like he was reporting weather.
"Because I can't."
He paused, then continued. "Since the moment I entered this world... I never knew what emotions were supposed to feel like. I saw others laugh, cry, rage—but my face never moved. My heart never... stirred."
The rain blurred everything for a moment, like the sky was crying for him.
"I wanted to feel," Azrael said, almost to himself. "I wanted to live. But I could only imitate. Never experience."
I swallowed hard.
"...You're not alone," I whispered.
He looked at me now, really looked—and for once, there was something behind those fractured eyes. Something cracked and terribly human.
"I was born ill," I said softly, smiling a little sadly. "From the moment I opened my eyes, I was told I wouldn't make it. That I wouldn't laugh, run, or smile like other kids. I was... sad. All the time. I didn't know what real happiness was."
Azrael's hand never let go of mine.
"Then... how are you here?" he asked.
I smiled gently and placed my free hand over my heart.
"Because someone saved me," I said, voice trembling just a little. "When everyone else gave up... he didn't. He stayed. And took care of me until I recovered fully."
I laughed a little, watery and soft. "And because of him, I smiled. For the first time, I truly smiled with it being forced."
Azrael stared at me like he was memorizing every word.
"So," he said slowly, "you learned how happiness feels."
I nodded, my heart aching with memories and gratitude.
Then, smiling up at him—bright, small, but real—I said...
"And you will too. One day, you'll smile, Azrael. I know you will."
He stared at me. No change in expression. No softening. No tears. Still the usual same poker face and emotionless expression.
But in the way he squeezed my hand—just a little tighter—
I could feel it.
Hope.
The rain kept falling, but inside our little cave, it was almost warm.
Azrael looked back out into the night, voice calm but carrying something fragile underneath.
"One of my wishes," he said, "has always been to live... truly live. To be human. To feel what it's like... to smile for the first time."
I smiled again, this time brighter, stronger.
"You'll get there," I said softly. "You just have to keep trying."
He nodded once, that same unbreakable calm, but the way he did it—it wasn't cold.
I leaned against his side gently, resting my head just barely against his arm, feeling him stiffen for a second—then slowly relax.
And like that... we weren't just strangers anymore.
And as the rain whispered against the earth, two people who had forgotten how to smile sat together—
waiting for a dawn they both still dared to believe in.
-------------------------------------------------------------- Part 4
The rain continued its endless lullaby outside the cave, a soft, miserable sound against the earth.
We sat there for a long time.
Neither of us said anything.
Not because there was nothing to say—
but because some feelings are too heavy for words to carry.
Azrael still held my hand, loose now, like he was giving me the choice to hold on or let go.
I didn't.
I kept holding.
Somewhere in the cold hush, Azrael spoke, his voice so low it almost disappeared into the rain.
"...I hope you meet that friend again someday, Navina."
For the first time since I met him, his tone wasn't completely neutral.
There was a faint crack in the neutrality. A tremor of something almost human underneath.
I felt my chest tighten painfully.
I looked down at our hands, then up at the storm outside.
My throat burned, but I forced the words out.
"...Thank you, Azrael," I whispered, trying to steady my voice. "I wish for that too because..."
My voice faltered. My hand curled a little tighter around his.
"Because I regret it," I said finally, a breathless, breaking confession.
"I regret not telling him... that day."
Azrael didn't move.
He just listened.
It made it harder somehow.
It made it real.
"I—" I began, my voice shaking, "I was so scared... I wanted to tell him. To ask him to stay with me. To be my friend, to be by my side forever. But—"
I swallowed hard. "But I didn't. I froze at that moment and didn't say anything. I let him leave."
The rain blurred against the night outside, just like my vision.
"Was it because... because I was too scared he'd say no?"
"Was I afraid... he'd break out friendship if I had asked? That even if I asked, it wouldn't matter?"
I shut my eyes tight, feeling the tears spill down my cheeks.
"Or maybe... maybe deep down I thought I didn't deserve someone like him staying..."
The words cracked and broke as they left me, bleeding into the space between us.
I couldn't bear to look at Azrael. I was afraid to see indifference on his face.
Afraid to see the truth reflected back at me—that I was just a coward who lost someone precious because I never reached out when it mattered.
But all Azrael did was tighten his fingers around mine.
Firm.
Steady.
Unmoving.
A silent promise: I hear you.
Then, after a moment, his voice came again, soft and steady like the rain.
"If you had the chance..." he said slowly, "would you go back and tell him that?"
I nodded without thinking, the answer bursting from the locked places of my heart.
"If I could go back..." My voice cracked. "I'd tell him in a heartbeat. No hesitation or fear."
I curled my fingers tighter into the fabric of my clothes, as if that would hold back the years of regret.
"Eight years..." I whispered, my throat burning. "For eight years I've lived with that regret."
Azrael was quiet for a long time.
Then, finally, he spoke — his voice calm, but weighted differently now. Not cold. Just... heavy.
"Maybe, Navina..." he said quietly, "you two weren't meant to be friends forever."
My heart lurched.
I turned to him, startled, hurt leaking into my voice before I could stop it.
"What do you mean?" I asked, the words shaking, barely more than a breath.
Azrael didn't flinch.
His gaze stayed on the dark, fading rain outside the cave.
"Everything in this world," he said, slowly, "happens for the best. Even when we hate it. Even when we think we would've been happier otherwise."
I pulled my hand away from him, anger rising to choke the sadness in my throat. I scooted a little farther from him, the chill of the cave biting harder now.
"What do you know about that?" I snapped, the ache behind my words sharper than any sword.
"You don't know how it feels. You don't know what it's like—" I blinked rapidly, trying to force back the tears.
"I would've been happy," I said fiercely, voice breaking, "if we stayed together. That's all I ever wanted."
Azrael was quiet again.
But when he spoke, there was no cruelty, no malice.
Only... a bitter kind of truth.
"He was the reason you became who you are today," Azrael said. "The reason you fought so hard. Became a Sword Saint respected and loved by everyone."
I clenched my fists so tightly they hurt.
"That doesn't matter," I whispered, shaking my head, the tears finally slipping free.
"None of it matters."
Another tear slid down my cheek, warm against my cold skin.
"You don't understand, Azrael..." I said, voice breaking completely now.
"You don't know what it feels like... to be sick your whole life. To lie in bed every night, coughing and gasping, wondering if you'd still be breathing when morning came."
I wiped at my tears angrily. "To cry so quietly because no one came to check if you were okay."
I let go of his hand completely, curling into myself.
"In another world..." I murmured, staring blankly at the cave wall, "I must have said it." A broken smile ghosted across my lips, bitter and small.
"I must have told him... I wanted to stay with him and be friends forever. And we were happy together. At least... I would have been happy."
Azrael shifted slightly beside me. The faintest movement.
Then his voice came again, low and steady.
"The gods... or something even above them... must have seen what you couldn't," he said.
"An ending far worse than any sadness or tragedy you've ever lived through."
I turned my head slightly, staring at him, the anger dimming into confused hurt.
"...What do you mean by that?" I asked quietly, barely breathing.
Azrael looked straight ahead, his cold, fractured eyes seeing things I couldn't.
"When the time comes," he said softly, "we all understand the value of sacrifice."
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
I just curled up tighter, pulling my legs to my chest, staring at the cave wall without seeing it. The rain outside had faded to a soft mist, the sound of it distant now, like a memory I couldn't hold onto.
I lay back against the hard stone floor, the cold seeping into my bones.
I closed my eyes.
Sacrifice?
Something worse than sadness?
What did he mean?
Was there truly some kind of ending... so cruel... that even my regrets were a mercy compared to it?
Was this—this world where I lived with regrets, with scars, with empty spaces in my heart—
Was this really the happiest world that could have existed for me?
The thought broke something in me.
As I drifted closer to sleep, I wondered...
The thought broke something in me.
As I drifted closer to sleep, I wondered...
When I was sitting close to him earlier,
I couldn't...
I just couldn't even hear his heart beating.
Was I imagining things? Or did it really not beat at all?
As if he wasn't even alive. As if he was just... existing. A thing pretending to be human.
Was he truly a person...
or a monster in disguise?
As I drifted closer to sleep, I wondered...
Why did I tell him all this?
Why Azrael?
Why not Lucas?
Why not someone — normal — someone from my family even?
Somehow...
Without even smiling.
Without even changing his expression.
Without even speaking much...
He narrowed into my heart.
Pulled apart the walls I thought were unbreakable.
Held me in place with nothing but his presence.
He reached in— like that old memory I tried to bury — the one I swore no one would ever see.
Drew out confessions I never wanted to say aloud. Words that felt like scars when they touched the air.
Was he...
Was he trying to make me open up?
Was it pity?
Or was it all just another move?
Another calculation in that endless mind?
Was he comforting me... only to trap me?
I squeezed my eyes shut.
No...
That can't be true.
It can't.
Or else... I don't know anymore.
I shifted slightly, turning my head just enough —
just enough to steal a glimpse at him one last time before sleep dragged me away.
Azrael sat perfectly still by the entrance of the cave.
Like a monster.
Like a god who had long abandoned mankind.
His face was emotionless.
Not blank — no, not even that.
It was dead.
Those broken, cold eyes stared out into the dark forest — reflecting nothing.
Feeling nothing.
Only the endless night staring back at him.
I watched him for a long, long moment.
Breathing slow.
Feeling my own heart beat — because his wouldn't.
And then, barely loud enough for anyone to hear — for even myself to hear — I muttered under my breath, like a prayer no god would answer:
"...Heartless."
And finally...
finally,
I fell asleep.
-------------------------------------------------------------- Part 5 (FINAL)
Azrael's Perspective:
Lucas would not awaken until morning.
Navina, exhausted from the emotional flooding I orchestrated, had also fallen asleep.
Exactly as I calculated.
I rose to my feet, moving silently across the cave.
The artificial rain I had created just ended.
What remained were the remnants of my design: layered moisture, embedding into the soil, and microscopic traces of thermal coldness too complex to be detected by any standard magecraft or sensory skill.
I observed the results without emotion.
All according to protocol.
Creating the rain itself was a trivial task.
Elemental manipulation on a microclimatic scale — even children could perform it with enough discipline.
The true complexity came from the thermal layering:
I engineered the rain droplets so that each particle carried a dual-phase structure — the outermost molecular layer remained at ambient temperature, while the internal structure contained compressed cold energy bound by friction-activated barriers.
Upon skin contact, the outer layer neutralized any detection attempts, while the internal structure, bound by an atomic delaying sequence, would seep into the dermis, embedding cold pressure that would manifest only after sufficient saturation.
No mark.
No pain.
No measurable anomaly under conventional diagnostics.
A perfect invisible blade, sinking through without resistance.
It was not enough to manipulate weather.
I had to manipulate the perception of weather.
The body would register rain — nothing else.
The mind would ignore the subtle drain until psychological fatigue set in hours later.
By the time Lucas or Navina awoke, the cold would have already altered their metabolic rates, lowered mental resilience, and weakened any subconscious defenses against suggestion.
Making them... easy to manipulate and confess.
Soft engineering of the human organism.
Without a single spell directly touching their conscious mind.
Undetectable.
Untraceable.
Inevitably effective.
I turned slightly, glancing at Navina's sleeping form.
Her hand, curled lightly against her chest.
Tear-stained cheeks.
Faint shivers.
Good.
On entry to the cave, I had performed one final augmentation.
A minor, incidental "mistake" — a casual touch against her hand.
To an observer, nothing more than accidental contact.
In reality, it was the activation of a secondary sequence.
I had pre-coded my skin's surface with a microscopic lattice of energy patterns, each tuned to emit cold atomic signatures on skin-to-skin contact.
The moment I brushed against her, the transfer began: subdermal cold-patterns infiltrating through direct atomic binding, locking into her nerve pathways.
It would trigger dormant emotional memories associated with isolation, loss, and abandonment — pushing her into confession, vulnerability, dependency.
The brain interprets cold touch as a threat when unshielded.
I merely aligned that primal reaction to a specific emotional framework.
A predictable outcome.
An engineered breakdown.
If there had been even a 0.1% chance of resistance, I would not have executed the operation.
But with Navina's prior emotional and physical fatigue, biological history of sickness, and unresolved psychological guilt—
Success was inevitable.
I took a slow breath, purely for the biological requirement, and watched the two sleeping figures.
Lucas.
Navina.
Lucas...
There was something unnatural about him.
His eyes didn't need to move to observe.
His awareness operated on a level beyond standard visual confirmation.
Possibilities branched around him like shifting mirrors — a rare phenomenon typically reserved for high-order conceptual wielders or forbidden existences.
A man whose mind functioned not in sequences, but in simultaneous layers of prediction and realization.
A card.
A potential tool.
A number.
I would not make the mistake of underestimating him. His thinking was near God level in omni-presence.
The rain was only the first act. More layers would unfold before they ever realized they were drowning.
This way, even if Lucas possessed that omnipresent form of observation — that fractured mirror sight I glimpsed in him — he would detect nothing.
Because the rain was not merely elemental.
It was biological. The cold seeped into the body's chemical pathways at a level even mana sensory could not perceive.
I wove the water's atomic structures with non-magic physics — pure manipulations of pressure, temperature, molecular spin, and hydrogen bonding at a quantum threshold undetectable by any standard magic perception.
Each droplet, once absorbed by the skin, layered itself between dermal cells, blending with natural electrolytes and blood flow.
Not an invader. A ghost wearing the skin of the body's own signals.
If Lucas activated any passive or active perception skills, they would return false positives.
To his mind, there was nothing but harmless rainfall.
Harmless temperature.
Harmless environment.
He could see a thousand possibilities.
None of them would matter.
I erased myself from his conclusions before he could think of them.
Next, there was Lucas's psychology.
A simpler problem.
Based on prior observation patterns and personality extrapolation, I deduced him to be the silent-attention seeker type — the breed of man who craves validation internally but punishes himself externally through isolation.
A simple sequence was enough: If ignored, he withdraws. If the spotlight moves elsewhere, he removes himself from competition.
So I engineered the conversation earlier —
pulling Navina's focus, drawing her guilt, twisting it into dependency onto me.
Lucas, seeing no immediate attention toward himself, made the logical conclusion to rest.
Good.
The rain outside justified inaction.
The grotesque hive raid was temporarily impossible.
Town was distant and unreachable in these conditions.
All parameters satisfied.
He withdrew.
He slept.
Leaving me free to harvest information.
After all, that is what they are to me.
All of them.
Not family.
Not friends.
Not human beings.
Prey.
Gullible, breathing prey, suspended on invisible strings, waiting to be killed at the hour I deem appropriate.
Navina's confession was more valuable than gold.
Her past, her traumas, her weaknesses — all now known to me, compartmentalized, and added to my internal calculations.
No longer an unknown variable.
Merely another card on the table.
The Queen of Spades.
Fitting.
Broken but still able to kill.
Sleeping beside her: The Ace of Spades.
Lucas.
The king remains unidentified, but it matters little.
When the deck is stacked by my hand, every card falls the same.
I rose without noise and stepped outside the cave.
The air was sharp with the aftermath of the rain. Above me, the moon split the clouds, indifferent, uncaring —
perfect.
Tomorrow, the other cards would arrive.
Arius, you truly think you're enough to stop me with those weak cards?
Especially the Hearts.
The naive.
The emotional.
The liabilities.
They must be sacrificed first. I'll get rid of them one by one, each before I begin.
Before the Aces can do what I intend them to do, the Hearts must be traumatized.
Before the real stage can be built from their corpses.
I stared up at the void between the stars.
My heart not beating at all.
There was no hesitation.
No regret.
At the end of the day, no matter what mask I wore...
no matter how well I mimicked human sentiment...
no matter how close I stood beside them...
I would never belong to their world.
I would never become human.
I am nothing but—
a...
Heartless Manipulator.