The days at the Phoenix estate dragged on, depressingly slow. After my spectacular, (though not quite lethal) beating of Riser in front of all the Underworld nobility, his parents, Lord and Lady Phoenix, had latched onto me like a last straw. Their request to "help Riser overcome his mental trauma" sounded absurd, considering I was the one who had inflicted said trauma. But their desperation, mixed with hope (and, likely, a subtle calculation to bind me to their clan through a sense of duty), was almost palpable. And then there was Ravel, his younger sister, whose tsundere plea had unexpectedly struck some chord in my jaded soul.
And so, here I was. In the golden palace of the Phoenix clan, playing the role of… what? A psychotherapist? A mentor? Or just a keeper for a broken toy? I didn't know myself. But one thing was clear: this promised to be either incredibly boring or… surprisingly irritating.
Day One
My first attempt was based on pure logic. I found Riser in his luxurious, (but now tomb-like) chambers. He was sitting in a corner, on the floor, hugging his knees, and rocking back and forth, muttering something incoherent. His golden hair was dull and matted, the expensive silk of his robe was wrinkled, and his eyes… his eyes were empty, like a fish washed up on shore. At my appearance, he flinched violently and pressed himself into the wall, covering his head with his hands.
"Go away… Don't touch… Please…" he stammered, his voice trembling.
I stopped at a safe distance. "Riser," I began calmly, trying to keep my voice even and non-threatening. "We need to talk. What happened in the arena… it was a fight. You lost. It happens."
He didn't react, just huddled tighter.
"Listen, you're a Phoenix," I continued, appealing to what was left of his pride. "Your house is famous for immortality, for rebirth. You fell, but you can rise again. Defeat isn't the end. It's a lesson."
"A lesson?..." He looked up at me, his eyes full of terror. "You… you beat me… The bones… The pain… I don't want… don't want it again…"
"No one is going to hit you," I tried to sound convincing. "I'm here to help you… pull yourself together. You have to get a grip. Remember who you are. The demon to a great house…"
"Not great… pathetic…" He buried his face in his knees again, his shoulders shaking with sobs. "I'm worthless… A weakling… You… you could have killed me… And I couldn't do anything…"
Logic wasn't working. His mind was fogged by fear, his pride ground to dust. My words bounced off the wall of his terror like peas. I sighed. Day one—a failure.
Day Two
On the second day, I decided to change tactics. Logic is useless? Let's try care. I came to him with a tray of food—something exquisite, prepared by the local chefs. Riser was still sitting in the corner, but now, it seemed, he was just staring blankly at the wall.
"Eat," I offered, placing the tray nearby. "You need strength."
He shied away from the tray as if it were a venomous snake. "I won't! It's poison! You're trying to poison me!"
"Why would I poison you?" I wearily rubbed the bridge of my nose. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have done it in the arena. It's just food."
"No! Go away! Take it away!" He started to throw a hysterical fit, pounding his fists on the floor. "I hate you! I hate you! Get out!"
I silently picked up the tray. Attempt number two—also a failure. This idiot wasn't just broken; he had regressed to the level of a capricious, terrified child.
Day Three
On the third day, I decided that was enough of being cooped up. Fresh air, a change of scenery—maybe that would help? I strode decisively into his room.
"Get up, Riser. We're going for a walk."
He looked at me in terror, scrambled to his feet, and… ran. Not for the door, no. He darted around the enormous room like a mouse in a jar, knocking over tables, smashing vases, trying to hide behind curtains or under the bed.
"A walk?... You're taking me… to kill me in the woods!" he wailed, tripping over his own feet.
It was so ridiculous I almost snorted. But my patience was starting to run out.
"Stop screwing around, Phoenix!" I barked, losing my composure. "Nobody is going to kill you! We're just going out to the garden!"
My raised voice hit him like a whip. He shrieked and bolted with renewed speed, running straight into a wall, bouncing off, and scrambling in another direction... I started to chase him. Not at full speed, of course, but just enough to keep him from hiding. Our "chase" through the luxurious apartment resembled a scene from a stupid comedy. Him—shrieking, sobbing, stumbling. Me—grim, irritated, trying to catch this golden hysteric.
Eventually, I cornered him, blocking all paths of retreat.
Riser stood with his back to the wall, his eyes wild with fear. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He stared at me like a rabbit at a boa constrictor.
"Alright, that's enough," I said, approaching. "Stop running. You're getting on my nerves."
"D-don't come closer… P-please…" he stammered, his lips trembling.
I took another step. And then, something completely unexpected happened. Riser's eyes suddenly rolled back, his body went limp, foam frothed at his mouth, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. He just... short-circuited from an overload of fear.
I froze, staring at the splayed-out body. Foaming at the mouth… Seriously? Is he epileptic? Or is this just the final stage of hysteria?
I stood over him for several seconds, feeling rage boil up inside me. Not anger at him for his cowardice. But rage at the pointlessness of it all. I am wasting my time on this pathetic parody of a demon! I'm trying to help him, and he… he faints from fear!
'That's it! Enough!' I decided. My patience had finally snapped. Logic, care, persuasion—all of it was useless. This slug needed a different kind of therapy. Shock therapy.
I waited for him to come to (or rather, I just splashed water on his face from a nearby vase). Riser moaned, opened his eyes, saw me, and tried to curl into a ball again. But I didn't let him. I grabbed him by the scruff, hauling him up from the floor.
"Listen to me, you pathetic piece of feathers!" I roared, my voice booming so loud the walls seemed to shake. I had forgotten all about calm, about logic, about his parents' request. "Stop sniveling! Stop acting like a girl! You're a Phoenix! You're a demon! You're an aristocrat, damn it!
He stared at me with huge, tear-filled eyes, unable to utter a word.
"Yeah, I beat you! Yeah, I showed you your immortality is nothing! But that's no reason to turn into a sniveling mess! Where is your pride?! Forget noble pride, you're a man, so act like one! Stop crying! Stop being afraid! Get it together, you rag!"
My words lashed him like slaps. But he didn't respond. Only tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the leftover foam. He was completely broken, and my yelling only worsened his condition.
I realized this wasn't working either. Words were useless. Persuasion was useless. He needed something else. Something to knock this paralyzing fear out of him. Something to make him feel… anything... other than terror.
I threw him back to the floor. He cowered again, expecting a blow. But I didn't hit him. I had made a decision.
"Fine, Riser," I said, calmer now, but with an icy resolve in my voice. "If you won't understand the easy way, we'll do it the hard way. You're afraid of pain? Afraid of power? Excellent. I'll give you both. In such doses that your current fear will seem like child's play. It's time to switch to the 'force' method."
I grabbed him by the scruff again, harder this time. He shrieked, trying to break free, but my grip was iron.
"Where… where are you dragging me?!" he stammered.
"Somewhere all that nonsense will be beaten out of you," I replied, dragging his resisting, sobbing body toward the exit. "To the woods. It's time for some real survival training. We'll see how you sing when you have to actually fight for your pathetic life."
I dragged him out of his golden cage, out of his fear-filled comfort zone. I dragged him down the palace corridors, ignoring the frightened looks of the servants and Riser's own desperate screams. Maybe this would break him completely. Or maybe… maybe this was the only chance to make him become something again, other than a trembling crybaby.