Chapter 55: Intrest.

Back in the Nexus academy stadium where the instructors and seniors were watching, Dean Viola Du Cartis stared at the magic projection screen with a stunned expression, her composure fractured, her lips parted softly betraying the calm demeanor she portrayed.

Similarly every other person within the stadium had expressions of surprise on their faces.

Even the rogue mercenary, instructor Caesar Cashmir paused for a second, the cigar remained within his fingers just a few inches away from his mouth.

He stared at the screen for a bit longer than he intended, his gaze lingering at the redhead everyone knew as the lout of the Astavore family.

Even Juliana found her gaze drawn to a particular screen.

Everybody did.

What Azazel had done was something even Viola, a tenth circle stellar mage struggle to comprehend.

Viola inhaled then her lips slowly curled into a smile.

“First the Prince, then runaway daughter of house Astraea and now this? Makes me wonder where their anonymous journey was spent.”

Juliana however was staring at another screen, particularly one displaying a certain pink haired girl who was tearing through a crowd of aspirants with a blissful expression on her face.

There was no particular emotion on her face but to anyone who cared enough to observe, they would notice the faintest curl of her lips.

’The lust princess herself showed up, I wonder how well my adorable little sister has grown.’ Julianna thought with a smile, though the next second, her gaze darkened.

’Are the demons still hell-bent on tearing the barrier… it’s impossible, unless…’

Her gaze flickered to another screen which showed Azazel using the Astavore’s family unique mana to distort space.

’… Unless they somehow get the body of an Astavore who is alive. This is troublesome, I’ll have to kill the kid or his sister if it ever comes to that.’

****

Leona was seated on one of the private exhibitions reserved only for special guests.

Her gaze was heavy with unspoken words, a palpable silence lingered around her as she watched her brother perform a technique no one in the Astavore family had dared to use.

But the main reason why she fell silent was because, it was a technique she’d thought of developing but she dismissed it thinking influencing space without a medium was impossible yet her brother, the lout had done what she deemed impossible.

And the way he did it made her—who was praised as a genius for most her life—feel disappointed in herself.

Behind her was Karina—her ever loyal maid and shadow—who watched silently without a single sound or movement.

She remained impassive, her expression—a façade of indifference but within her, she felt relief.

Relief at the fact that the young master had returned.

Somehow his presence gave her a bit of assurance, it promised hope, a cure for her master’s nightmares.

Besides Leona, another figure was seated.

It was Veyre Jerome Evangelion, the first princess of the Valerian empire and the priestess of the sun.

She had been quiet since the whole exchange but her eyes never left the projection screen.

Ever so often her eyes would light up slightly at Azazel’s action, the only betrayal to the composed demeanor she carried.

She found this version of Azazel rather interesting, for instance he had his family’s signature ability, he never had it during the first timeline, she remembered he had a familiar instead, a pet snake which could grow endlessly during fights and unleash hell on the battlefield.

She remembered him being smart but restrained as surprising as that may seem, this Azazel was not.

He had wits but not the restraint.

This version of him was wild and selfish.

She wasn’t much of a fighter but every battle hardened veteran in the stadium could tell that he didn’t trust anyone, not even the Prince or the wounded mercenary.

His stance was positioned in such a way that he would be able to react if they were to ever attack him while he was in the middle of a fight.

When Azazel used the technique, she had almost laughed out loud.

To everyone, the lout of the Astavore family had created something very unique but to her? She knew he had just copied what his sister Leona had created in the future.

Her lips parted slightly, the words came out in a hushed whisper.

“Interesting.” She said.

She was aware a soul had possessed the body, he wasn’t the Azazel she knew, he wasn’t her knight here or her lover, he was a completely different person.

And Veyre decided to keep an eye on him.

After all, if he turned out to be a scum wearing the body of her lover, she would end him in a heartbeat, that was the promise she had made to ’Him’.

****

On a desolate spot high above the stadium which looked like a modern colosseum made in the Victorian era, a skinny figure watched.

He had black messy hair with dark brown eyes which focused on a specific projection within the magic screens.

It was the Livestream of Tyrisa D’el Nyx, the noble flower of the Northern isle, dancing through a crowd of aspirants.

Her katana blurred with each movement she made.

She appeared like a phantom exploiting every single slip up any aspirant made.

A few of the smarter ones changed their positions, one girl in particular using strings had been the one to cause Tyrisa more trouble.

With her assistant taken out by a strange swordsman, the situation had taken a turn for the worst.

A thin thread of string wrapped around Tyrisa’s hand causing the petite princess to lose her balance and that brief moment was all her opponents needed to take her out, or so they thought because the moment an aspirant stabbed through her form, its dissipated into wisps of shadows.

“Ackk—”

A strangled cry sound behind them, the remaining aspirants turned around, their eyes widened in horror.

The katana’s blade was jutting out from the throat of the aspirant who had been using the string.

She sucked in a breath, her form dissipating, with strained efforts, she managed to speak.

“S-Shadow… user…”

That was it, her form disappeared into motes of light.

Tyrisa raised her chin slightly, her eyes drifted past the crowd of aspirants, then she tilted her neck softly.

Around them, the wind had grown different.

The crowd of aspirants didn’t notice at first but when they did, it was the sound of a thin blades slicing through their necks.

Tyrisa drove into her shadows as quickly as she could but a small blade was quick enough to graze her shoulders, drawing a bit of blood.

She appeared from the shadow of a large tree then exhaled deeply.

Her eyes locked on to the figure of a boy her age, who causally flexed his nodachi around.

Every movement of his swings, the wind followed, forming a strange dance which was both hypnotizing and graceful.

The newcomer stopped his dance abruptly then bowed his head.

“The name’s Yoshino Yorashiku, a pleasure princess Tyrisa.”

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