If anyone bothered to ask Nathan if he actually needed to take a whole week off to investigate his "Personalised Rune Arts," he would shake his head with a mischievous smile and tell them he just didn't want to attend class. However, nobody really knew what Nathan had been doing in the times when he was free; he seemed to disappear from the academy grounds during class time. This was especially weird for Joseph and Charlotte, who helped him to orchestrate his scheme.
After Charlotte returned the refined version of the intimidating figure's blueprint, both Nathan and Joseph were stunned by how much better it became with the most subtle detail polishing. Neither of them knew exactly how Nathan was planning to win the duel with it, because obvious tricks become even duller if you get an explanation of how they operated.
Clara Marshall's class continued as normal without Nathan, but with the fresh addition of Joseph, John, and Genesis as a Representative Student, whom Jennifer fought in the Arena of Isaria. To the surprise of both Monica and William, John Krymer was someone neither of them had guessed.
Apart from the deep stare caged within his eyes, there wasn't really anything that set him apart from an everyday commoner you see all the time on the streets. He got along with everyone politely, as Genesis and Joseph did.
John sat next to Jennifer at the command of Clara Marshall. The two shared short, meaningless conversations every once in a while. Both of them seemed like individuals who did not want to engage in a deep relationship with anyone. Time flew past. Before the academy realised it, the duel that everybody feared and looked forward to at the same time was only one day away from happening.
Nathan Modernson, walking carefree with his hands in his pockets, pushed the door of the principal's office open like a child who had returned home. "Henry! It's all done now. Perfect timing, am I right?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but his restless movements gave away his excitement.
Henry Nox was sitting on the lone piece of furniture in his office, the simplistic sofa at the centre, chatting with someone on the other side. The man had his two hands chained behind his back by layers and layers of chains, tied together with five giant swords that stretched above his head in a fan shape. To a degree, it always seemed like it wasn't a symbol of crime and punishment, but a throne of glory and strength.
The man turned his head to Nathan as he heard the unfamiliar voice. All of a sudden, his pupils widened as he flustered to extract his arms from his shackles. The chains behind him cackled with an unsettling sound. Realising his failure, he fell back away from Nathan's direction and sealed his eyes tight. His mouth vibrated wildly, as if he were trying to scream through a gag.
Henry, for the first time Nathan had seen, furrowed his eyebrows in unveiled panic.
Nathan froze in position and tried to calm the man down with a voice that slightly trembled, "Sir? I mean you no harm."
The man's lips continued to fence with each other, but a few words managed to squeeze out in between.
"Brilliant… So brilliant…"
"I see, you are seeing things again." Henry composed himself and relaxed, sighing in relief. "Is it really that bright? Even brighter than the first seat?"
Nathan was dumbfounded, clearly not expecting such an incident to occur randomly.
"Mister Nox, don't joke with me…" The man seemed to have settled down. Though his eyes remained shut, his body still lay awkwardly on its side. "I finally know why V's glow is so blinding…"
Henry's fist tightened, but the man interrupted his words before they emerged.
"Nathan… Modernson… It has to be you." He turned to Nathan once again, staring directly into his eyes despite his temporary blindness. "To see someone have an aura so bright, my life no longer has any regrets…"
"Sorry?" Nathan scratched his head in confusion. "Aura?"
"Let me begin with an introduction, shall we?" Henry stood up and flattened his suit handsomely. "Nathan, this is the sixth seat of the Rune Arts Federation, Redhair—the culprit of the Infinite Massacre."
Nathan scanned this sixth seat from top to bottom. His hair was dark, just like his. Furthermore, the man emitted such a soft and gentle ambience, unlike anything he could've imagined for someone who wiped out an entire aristocratic clan by himself.
Redhair did not seem to be bothered by Henry pointing out his crime. He instead smiled chillingly as he signalled Henry to continue.
"From birth, he had an instinctual gift, or a curse in others' eyes: people glistened in differing brilliance. What this brilliance stood for, we assume, was the impact one may have on the world. Unfortunately, the glow changed for certain individuals as time passed, so we can never be entirely certain."
Nathan nodded. Sensing from before that Redhair might be proud of, or at least willing to talk about, the Infinite Massacre, curiosity overtook his urge to do whatever he had planned when he decided to come to the office.
"Sir, could that be the reason for the massacre?" he asked carefully, somewhat knowing Redhair would not harm him.
"Please refrain from calling me 'sir.'" Redhair intentionally kept his voice low, as if he were a peasant trying not to provoke a lord. "Mister Modernson, nobody deserves to have you call them 'sir.'"
"Right, right." Nathan swallowed, knowing this wasn't someone he should falsely pay respect to, though he kept his voice low too. "Should I refer to you as 'Redhair,' then?"
"Please call me by my real name, Lucifer." Redhair shuddered.
"Lucifer Pompeii."
"Pompeii?" Nathan almost shrieked. Wasn't that the clan that got wiped out by himself? For what reason would someone brutally kill everyone in their own family? In addition to that, a figure he faintly remembered, the woman in the Arena of Isaria, Angela Pompeii.
Henry nodded in approval. "Yes, Nathan, the same clan he massacred himself."
"But why?" Nathan frowned in thought. "Were you mistreated?"
Lucifer lowered his head in shame; at least that was what it seemed like to Nathan from his angle.
"Everyone in the clan had dark, crimson hair," he began slowly. "But as you can see, things went slightly differently for me."
"So I killed them all." He started to lift his head, and Nathan saw his features gradually. First his sealed eyes, then his conventional features, and eventually, a wide smile that almost drove him to fall to the ground in raw fear. At that moment, it wasn't guilt that caused him to lower his head, but a twisted obscurity of his uncontrollable, sinister grin.
"That way, tainted by blood, my hair could be the same as theirs, at least for a moment."
Nathan couldn't find words to reply. Even counting his sixteen years of life in Lostburg, he had never seen somebody so horrifyingly insane.
"Was it worth it?" he asked with difficulty. "To be chained for life for that one moment?"
A quiet, satisfied laugh escaped Lucifer's mouth.
"Mister Modernson, someone as great as you will never apprehend the feeling of vengeance."
"Revenge has to come with a cost," he explained patiently. "A cost that eternifies one moment, a cost that reminds you of your success."
"I will disturb you two no more." Lucifer stood up steadily with only the strength of his legs. Nathan blinked once, and he was already at the door. He had gotten used to miracles appearing in Henry's office after Henry explained to him the secrets of his mythical Personalised Rune Art.
"Then we shall talk on another suitable date." Henry bowed faintly in his direction. "Mark my words, only I can control her."
"I'm confident in you, my honorary mentor." Lucifer turned around and smiled. "Ahhh… Then my part is complete. It always feels so wonderful to do good, don't you reckon?"
"Is there anything going on?" Nathan asked while staring blankly at the distant door, which was now sealed shut, haunted by Lucifer's sentences of spite and revenge.
"What happened in Isterann… You still remember it, right?" Henry tapped his fingers on the stand, and Nathan suddenly found himself sitting on the sofa directly facing him. "Of course you do, you were there to testify to it."
"Eric Runaria set forth a simple yet precise command. The verbatim was: 'Fellvion Sheorad will not succeed, but before he tries to, y'all better not do anything foolish.'" Henry was decent at mimicking the way the king talked, which almost reminded Nathan of his father when he spoke casually.
"So he wouldn't try to at least… set some obstacles for him?" Nathan asked.
"That's not how the 13th king of Runalond does things." Henry shook his head. "Instead of being aggressive or passive, he chooses to be thoroughly responsive."
"Not putting all the eggs in one basket. The king must be an impressive one." Nathan nodded, wholeheartedly impressed by such methods of resolving problems. It was quite similar to his style, a constantly changing one depending on who his opponent was.
"I would say so too. His Majesty is indeed a wise one." Henry laughed freely. "Perhaps even wiser than the one who was supposed to become king," he muttered to himself, but Nathan somehow heard it anyway.
"My father… Did he really give up the throne for my mother?" Nathan did not bother hiding what he had learnt from The Indescribable.
"It seems you already know the stories of the past." Henry staggered shortly before he responded. "Nathan, love isn't enough for your father to give up greatness. When your plan succeeds, I will show you what exactly happened, and knowing your father, you will understand what pushed him towards this decision."
"That's what I think too." Nathan sighed. "Everybody promised me truth, but no one followed it."
"I will," Henry promised truthfully.
"I'll have to depend on you again, like every other time." Nathan grinned awkwardly. "Including this duel, and I'm supposed to be the one to change this world."
"There's no shame in winning, no matter the method. You've grown after this journey. I know what I need to do to assist you. There is no tomorrow in which you are not the one who wins."
"I'm sorry I'm not able pay you back."
"Back to the original topic," Henry interrupted Nathan's grieving. "Redhair doesn't have many friends, but the fourth seat, Aurora, was certainly one of them."
Nathan had rarely heard anything of the fourth seat of the Rune Arts Federation except for her codename. He nodded to signal Henry to continue.
"Isterann is Aurora's hometown, and there lives her only daughter, Phoebe, who inherited her mysterious, dreamy beauty and talent in Illusional Rune Arts."
Nathan's thoughts were instantly dragged to the day when he first arrived at Isterann, to the priestess who had almost taken his heart and soul away at first glance. For some reason, Nathan was fairly certain that she was the subject of this conversation.
Illusional Rune Arts are barely relevant in modern Rune Arts investigations due to being too unnecessary and dangerous in a peaceful era. However, that meant the world left many rooms for improvement, marking anyone who ventured into this field as pioneers to explore something Runalond had never seen before.
"She is unnervingly close to Fellvion, almost obsessed with him, but next year, she will enrol in the academy as a Representative Student. Whether Fellvion plans to have her do something at the royal capital, I do not yet know, but I'm confident I can control it."
Nathan nodded again. Concentrating on Henry's words, he blurted out,
"Just my opinion… Fellvion Sheorad is a dangerous person. I've met him a couple of times, and I felt genuine, instinctual fear. I'm just afraid…"
For a moment, Henry seemed paralysed by his words. Nathan never discovered what he was uncertain about, but Henry's words changed his perspective on the world forever, at least to an observable extent.
"Nathan, there are far too many living people who are unsatisfied with the world we live in. Among them, many are wise, dangerous, diligent, fortunate, or perhaps all of these at once. Fellvion Sheorad is not the first who will rise in rebellion, and it is certain that he will not be the last. Some will succeed, but most eventually fall, not because they are not wise enough, not dangerous enough, not diligent enough, or not fortunate enough. They fail solely because they see the world as something that needs to be changed. These people are excellent saviour material, but as rulers, they are destined to wander and languish, with no home for them to return to, no destination for them to arrive at."
"Remember, Nathan, rulers and saviours are antitheses. To become one, is to deny the possibility of being the other, as it always has, as it always will."