CHAPTER 116: GO EASY

Razeal came down the stairs, his footsteps slow and even. He had washed up, tied his shoulder-length hair back, and tossed on his usual worn black robe and ghost mask on his face. The shop was quiet no hum of customers, no rustling of books or clinking of potion jars. Just the low creak of old wood under his boots.

Levy was where he always was sitting behind the counter, slouched in the same chair as yesterday and probably the one before that. His head rested on one hand, elbow propped up, his eyes fixed on the street outside. He didn’t bother looking at Razeal. Didn’t speak either..

Razeal didn’t say anything either.

He walked straight toward the exit, but he stopped suddenly as something snagged the edge of his attention. Lying by the corner of the wooden gate, half in shadow, was that spaceal pouch the one from yesterday. His gaze paused on it but it only lingered for a second. He rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath, and kept walking.

"Want me to get something to eat?" Levy asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Still not looking at him.

"No need. I’ll buy it myself today," Razeal said a very hidden meaning behind his words.

He reached for the door, hand on the latch then paused. Something had pulled his attention again, Or more like he remembered something.

His eyes shifted to the corner of the shop. There, almost lost in the cluttered shadows of crates and hanging herbs, stood a massive owl statue. Four feet tall at least. Its feathers were sculpted in immaculate detail, each strand carved with such precision it looked as if they might ruffle at any moment. The thing looked real ..too real.

Razeal narrowed his eyes.

"Also there’s no need to hide your little pet," Razeal said coolly, eyes fixed on the owl statue. "You’re just hurting it, forcing it to act like that. Feed it something. It’s starving."

With that, he turned and moved to leave.

Levy gave reaction. Or even any reply. He just sat there, his head still resting in his hand, his expression unreadable. But Razeal knew better. This dude is still over yesterday matter.

Maybe that Illusion went too farr? Razeal thought but then again he didn’t care much. It can’t be that scary right. Dying isn’t that scary after he knows it better. An Expert in this field.

Then the door opened, and Razeal stepped out into the morning.

"Good luck~" Levy said coldly behind him.

Razeal paused in his step but didn’t turned around and just walked out.

His lips pressed in thin line finally moving. The words left his mouth slow and dry, more a tired breath than a farewell. But even as he said it, his face soured again displeased, haunted, exhausted.

That damn illusion last night...

It had eaten into his mind. Levy hadn’t been able to sleep all night. The images still clung to the corners of his mind like mold he couldn’t scrape away. No dream, no potion, no meditation had been able to clear it. And worst of all he couldn’t understand how Razeal had done it. What he’d shown him. Should be known.

"Did he read my mind and got my memories?," Levy muttered, now alone in the shop, rubbing his temples with cold fingers. "Or he have something like he too? Or just...something else."

"Damn bastard," Levy muttered quietly.

He closed his eyes, letting the silence press in. The heaviness was back in his chest. His hand started to shake again just slightly as the memories clawed their way back up.

But then...a soft weight landed on the counter.

Feathers brushed his cheek.

Something warm nuzzled its round face against his temple, gently, rhythmically, like it was trying to smooth the panic right out of him.

The owl.

It wasn’t acting as statue anymore. It was real, alive, breathing. Huge, with piercing amber eyes and feathers soft as midnight wind. It had come to him without a sound, as if it had been waiting for the right moment.

Levy didn’t look up. He just lifted his arm, and the owl leaned in. Its head pressed firmly into his shoulder. And Levy tired, shaken, but quietly grateful wrapped his arm around it.

"I’m fine," he whispered. "Really."

But he held it tighter than he needed to.

And the two of them just stayed there, resting on the counter in the stillness of the shop two strange, quiet creatures trying to survive in a world that wouldn’t stop showing them things they weren’t ready to see.

****

Razeal walked in silence.

The street ahead was nearly empty, the sky above dimming with the early shades of dusk. It should’ve been busy. Loud. Crowded with people making their way home or heading toward the academy coliseum to watch the "duel."

Instead, it was dead quiet. Cold wind passed through narrow alleys, brushing against walls lined with giant posters ugly, hand-painted things that screamed at anyone who bothered to look.

"RAZEAL, THE DISGUSTING PIG."

"THE RAPIST OF SAINT BLOOD."

"THE SINNER OF SINNERS."

"COME WITNESS HIS LAST BREATH."

"PRAY FOR A MOST PAINFUL DEATH."

Razeal’s face was plastered across each one, exaggerated, drawn like a demon with bloodshot eyes and cracked lips.

He stopped in front of one and stared.

"...These insecure fuckers."

The poster flapped once in the wind.

His eyes narrowed.

They don’t even want a duel, he thought. They want a goddamn execution. A show. A final act with me as the bleeding finale.

He felt his blood stir, pressure rising behind his temples.

For a second, the temptation pulled at him-ditch the duel. Hunt down whoever was behind this and teach them a different kind of lesson. But he shook his head.

Razeal continued walking

Calm down. Calm the fuck down.

He inhaled slowly through his nose, held it, then exhaled through clenched teeth.

"Whoever’s behind this..." he whispered under his breath, "You better hope I’m in a good mood after this duel. Because if not... you’re going to regret not killing yourself first."

A few people scattered, unsure walked past him in the distance. One couple crossed the road as they saw him standing still, wearing a heavy black robe and a ghost mask. A little girl clutched her father’s sleeve, whispering. They didn’t recognize him for sure... but they were definitely wondering.

Is it him?

Is that the monster?

Why is he hiding his face? In daylight

In a crowd, they might have ignored him. But today, he was too obvious to overlook.

And that.. right there pushed him over the edge.

Razeal felt the stares, but didn’t care.

Then, something changed.

His shadow flickered.

From beneath his robe, his shadow stirred beneath his feet. It writhed like a puddle of oil catching fire. Then, hands.. dozens of small, delicate, black hands crawled up his sides from the shadow like silent spiders.

They reached up his back and front. Gripped the edges of his robe. Tugged gently.

And then peeled it off.

The ghost mask was lifted clean from his face, his cloak slowly sliding back like silk through fingers. He didn’t pause. Didn’t blink. He just kept walking, his pace steady.

The few people who had dared to look at him... now froze.

Their mouths parted. Eyes wide.

Some stumbled back, gasping what kind of spell was this?

The shadows pulled the robe and mask fully off, folding them with almost mechanical care. Then, with perfect timing, the hands sank back into the ground sliding into Razeal’s own shadow as if it were liquid.

No ripple. No sign of magic.

The robe and mask vanished, swallowed whole.

The spot behind him? Nothing.

Just plain stone.

As if nothing had happened.

The two onlookers stood frozen for several long seconds, completely unable to process what they’d just witnessed.

And then, the sunlight broke through the clouds hitting Razeal’s exposed face.

His sharp features were now fully visible.

Pale. Angular. Defined like stone. No emotion, no warmth.

Just a calm, unreadable unbothered expression.

"It’s... it’s him," a man said, stepping forward as he recognized the figure instantly. "That’s the one set for execution today... He’s going to be slain by Areon Dragonwevr in front of the entire Empire."

But he stopped mid-sentence, suddenly struck by the expressionless face of the man he was pointing at.

"Disgusting..." another voice spat from beside him, stepping toward Razeal with growing anger. He opened his mouth to shout but the moment sound escaped his lips, it was already too late.

Razeal looked at him.

With bored, detached eyes, Razeal casually turned his head in the man’s direction while still walking.

Their eyes met. Only for a second.

The man froze mid-step.

Something about those eyes dark, bottomless, black felt like they were pulling him in. Like they weren’t eyes at all, but voids.

And suddenly... he felt it.

He wasn’t just looking at a man anymore.

He was standing in front of something deadly. Something that didn’t see life or death as meaningful. Something to which killing was as mundane as blinking. He felt it deep in his gut.

"No ugh, ahh.." he gasped, but before he could process anything further, his body convulsed. His heart pounded. Adrenaline shot through him like a lightning strike. His limbs trembled violently as primal fear overtook him. Foam bubbled from his lips. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground.

Razeal didn’t even pause. It had all happened in a single breath. He glanced at the man, curious, then just kept walking. As if nothing had happened.

Others who had been about to speak, to confront him, now hesitated. They had seen something a flicker, a shadow like black liquid hands rising from the ground. Whatever courage they had vanished.

They stopped in place, watching the man who had fallen.

"Did that monster... kill him just by looking at him?" someone whispered, eyes darting between the unconscious body and Razeal’s retreating back. He had been the reason they thought they could speak out. Now they weren’t so sure.

One of them knelt beside the collapsed man, checking his pulse.

"No... he’s just unconscious. But... what was that?"

"And those dark hands... was that magic? Does he know magic?" another muttered, unease growing in his voice.

Fear spread through the group not loud panic, but cold, quiet dread. They spoke in hushed tones, the fear behind their words unmistakable.

"Don’t be afraid," someone said, trying to reassure them. "He won’t be around much longer. His execution is today. No need to fear."

"Then why are you trembling?" another asked, frowning at the man.

The man didn’t answer immediately. He just knelt, trying to lift the unconscious body.

"I don’t know," he whispered finally. "But I feel like... something bad is about to happen."

"What?"

No reply.

The man’s face was pale his fear, unmistakable.

---

While Razeal was walking

"What happened to him?" Razeal asked, though he wasn’t sure himself why the man had fallen.

[You’ve killed so many, host. It’s obvious now. Your eyes are killer’s eyes now. The fear someone feels when stared at by someone who doesn’t see life as life it’s natural for the weak. Especially when you looked him straight in the eyes.]

"I see," Razeal muttered. He didn’t react much. Just kept walking, lost in thought.

As he passed, people paused. They noticed him. Some whispered. But no one spoke up. No one dared to stop him. Even those who recognized him said nothing. They simply began to follow, a quiet procession forming behind him.

The direction he was heading was clear the coliseum at the academy. The place where duels were held.

People continued whispering among themselves, but Razeal didn’t care. His mind was elsewhere, probably already deep into what came after the duel.

After a long walk, he finally stood in front of a massive stone structure ancient, towering, scarred by time. The coliseum.

He kept his head up and walked forward without hesitation.

High above, a figure hovered in the sky a girl with long, flowing hair and a slim build. She looked down at him, watching.

"He’s here," she whispered, as if she’d been waiting.

Her voice was soft. Not excited. Not afraid. Just... observant.

"So this is the guy you’re going to fight?" asked a small creature perched on her right shoulder, its eyes sharp and judgmental.

"I feel... weirdly repulsed by him," it continued. "But it’s not a bad feeling. I don’t dislike him, either. Maybe go easy on him."

A gentler voice came from her left shoulder. Another small being.

"I felt something weird too," it said, echoing the sentiment.

"What do you mean? I didn’t feel anything," the girl replied, glancing at her left shoulder.

"We don’t know," both creatures said, shaking their tiny heads in sync.

---