Samael walked along the beach, still soaked in blood.
His arm hung uselessly at his side, throbbing with pain. Every step made the exhaustion pulse deeper into his body, yet he kept going, eyes drifting across the empty horizon.
He needed an anchor.
Something to keep him tethered to sanity.
Because, little by little, he was losing his mind.
And the worst part was that, in his own eyes, he still considered himself perfectly normal—something his Aspect clearly disagreed with. A familiar stab bloomed in his chest, uncomfortable, like a silent reminder.
Then, an unwelcome thought surfaced.
Sunny.
Samael felt envy.
Not of Sunny's Aspect.
But of the fact that Sunny had someone.
Someone who, even by force, gave him a path to walk.
Before meeting Nephis, Sunny was someone who survived purely out of spite—moving forward through stubbornness and resentment. But after her… he gained direction. A course. A goal, even if it had been imposed.
That was what Samael envied.
Because even if, by some miracle, he managed to leave that island…
What was his goal?
Save the world?
No.
That was someone else's purpose.
So what was left for him?
What did he truly want?
What did he seek?
What gave meaning to his existence?
Samael realized that he had come this far without any motivation at all.
Revenge against the Sovereigns?
They would fall regardless.
With or without him.
Sooner or later.
Peace?
Rest?
He let out a humorless laugh.
Illusions.
That world did not allow such things.
In the end, the conclusion was simple and cruel.
He was lost.
Aimless.
Completely out of place.
"I want a master too…" Samael whispered to the wind.
His gaze hardened.
"But I'm not a slave like Sunny."
After walking for hours in that state, he reached the crater.
The scar left by that being.
The place where he had nearly drowned in despair.
Samael stared into the abyss in silence.
"Could it be revenge?" he murmured. "My purpose?"
He shook his head.
"No. That won't do. I'm still far too weak. And it's ridiculous to live just to kill something… when afterward I'd return to this exact same state."
He took a deep breath.
"Not to mention there's no guarantee that thing won't die before I do."
That was when he heard a voice.
"What is that…?"
Another followed immediately.
"What could cause something on this scale?"
Samael froze.
Instinct took over.
He hid himself cautiously, activating his stealth, and summoned the Bow of Despair.
Soon, he identified two figures on the other side of the crater.
An extremely beautiful young woman, with black hair and deep violet eyes.
And a boy with short black hair and brown eyes.
Samael evaluated the two of them.
Then, he evaluated himself.
Wounds covering his body.
A broken arm.
Extreme exhaustion.
He hadn't stopped to think about it before, but now it was obvious: if he didn't treat his injuries, he wouldn't survive much longer. They wouldn't heal on their own.
Not in his current condition.
He couldn't hunt.
And his food would run out soon.
He was in serious trouble.
All because of his own recklessness.
I'll incapacitate them both, he thought coldly. Then I'll negotiate.
In his current state, they could easily see him as an easy target.
And attack him.
Samael formed an Essence arrow.
His reserves were full.
He aimed at the girl—instinctively identifying her as the leader.
And released the string.
The arrow tore through the air.
He was certain it would hit.
He wasn't the best archer among the Awakened…
But he wasn't bad either.
Then, something happened.
Something he hadn't expected.
The girl dodged.
Perfectly.
As if she already knew the arrow was coming.
At that same instant…
Samael stepped out of his hiding place.
There was no reason to remain concealed anymore.
Once discovered, stealth was meaningless.
On the other side of the crater, Elizabeth watched as a boy slowly emerged from behind the bushes.
He looked to be about her age.
He held a bow of unusual appearance—beautiful in a strange, almost melancholic way. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, clearly broken. His body was covered in dried blood and fresh wounds, as though he had just walked out of a massacre.
But what truly caught Elizabeth's attention…
Was the killing intent.
It was palpable.
Even injured, even exhausted, that boy radiated danger.
A chill ran down Elizabeth's spine.
He's strong…
His face was undeniably handsome, with sharp features and a cold expression—but at that moment, there was something deeply intimidating about him. It wasn't arrogance. Nor confidence.
It was someone who had already decided to kill, if necessary.
"Samael?" Mason asked, eyes wide, as if he had seen a ghost.
Elizabeth shot him a quick glance, surprised.
"You know him?" she asked, never taking her eyes off the injured boy.
"Of course," Mason replied immediately. "He was the most famous person at the academy. I've seen him having lunch with Professor Layla."
Elizabeth felt the weight of that name.
Samael.
There wasn't a single cadet who hadn't heard of him.
His reputation preceded him—problematic behavior, terrible reputation, questionable character. A near-mythical figure of their generation.
Even so, she didn't recognize his face.
They had never met in person.
Her eyes returned to the boy in front of her.
Injured.
Bleeding.
Dangerous.
"You know me?" Samael asked, his voice cold and restrained.
He remained in a defensive stance, body slightly inclined, ready to attack at the slightest suspicious movement.
The bow was still in his hands.
And even with a broken arm…
No one there doubted that he was capable of killing.
The air between the three grew heavy.
Tense.
As if a single wrong step could turn that encounter…
Into yet another scene of blood.