After the fall of Mars, the Parliament of Mercury had declared it.If the "Angel Squad" wanted to keep their title—if they wanted to be seen as more than relics of a dying world—they would have to become stronger. Far stronger.Weakness was no longer forgivable.
BOOM.
The impact rattled the entire hall.
Arnik's body crashed against the reinforced wall with a heavy, bone-jarring thud, a faint crack spiderwebbing out from the point of impact before he slumped to the floor, coughing out a weak gasp.
Across the room, Lumis exhaled a quiet sigh, adjusting the cuffs of his pristine suit as if brushing off dust that wasn't there. His tie barely shifted, unbothered even by the shockwave.
"Had enough yet?" he asked, his voice steady and unreadable.
Arnik groaned low in his throat. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, painting a dark line down his chin. His arms trembled violently as he forced himself up, teeth grit so hard it felt like they might crack.
"I'm not done yet," Arnik rasped, the words barely scraping past his bruised ribs.
A faint hum buzzed in the scorched air. His plasma sword reignited in his hand, though the blade flickered and wavered under the strain of his exhausted body.
Lumis didn't move, merely settling back into his stance—feet firm, balance perfect, one hand extended in silent challenge. His eyes, cool and detached, watched Arnik like a master observing a struggling apprentice.
Arnik gritted his teeth harder, rage boiling beneath his battered exterior. He exploded forward, sword flashing toward Lumis's chest.
But Lumis was already moving.
A sharp sidestep. A pivot inside Arnik's guard.
He caught Arnik's swinging arm at the wrist, twisted it aside with a forceful wrench, and drove his free hand into Arnik's stomach with brutal precision.
The impact emptied Arnik's lungs in an ugly, wheezing cough.
Still—he staggered back, swung wildly, desperate to land even a single blow. His plasma blade hissed through empty air.
Lumis moved like a phantom, weaving around the strikes with inhuman grace. His coat snapped behind him like a flag in a storm.
"Damn it!!" Arnik snarled, frustration cracking his voice. "Why can't I hit him?! He wasn't this strong the last time!"
His footing slipped. His grip tightened recklessly around the sword.
He charged again.
Another mistake.
Lumis stepped aside with surgical calm. His voice cut the air like a blade.
"Your mind," he said, "is somewhere else."
Before Arnik could register it, Lumis struck—a savage uppercut that snapped his head back and sent his feet skidding across the floor.
His plasma sword sputtered, blinking out.
But Lumis wasn't done.
A small ball of concentrated plasma blinked into existence in his open palm—compact, lethal.
In one smooth, almost lazy motion, he hurled it.
ZIIIIIP—BOOM.
It struck Arnik's chest dead center.
The explosion lifted him off his feet and hurled him across the hall. His body hit the ground hard, skidding several feet before coming to a smoking halt, curled in on itself like a broken puppet.
The heavy silence that followed was broken only by the sound of Arnik's ragged breathing.
He stared up at the blurred ceiling lights, his vision swimming. Every nerve screamed in pain. His muscles refused to obey him.
But none of that mattered.
None of it hurt like the hollow, black pit gnawing inside his heart.
Arnik lay there, panting hard against the cold floor, the taste of iron thick on his tongue.
Across the training hall, Lumis stood perfectly composed, arms folded neatly behind his back.
"This fight is over," Lumis said simply, his tone almost clinical. "You can hardly stand."
For a moment, it seemed Arnik wouldn't move.
But then, with a raw, almost primal growl, he forced himself upright. His legs shook, his body screaming at him to stop, but he stood anyway—plasma flickering weakly around his battered fists.
"You don't get it," Arnik rasped, glaring through the blur of pain. "I must get stronger. That means... I can't go down until I at least wound you."
Lumis sighed, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket like he was bored.
"You'll never beat me in the state you're in."
He took a step closer, boots clicking sharply against the metal floor.
"Something's troubling you," he said, not as a question, but a fact.
Arnik stiffened, his hands curling tighter into fists.
Lumis's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I heard you lost a member... Sentryon, wasn't it?"
The words hit Arnik harder than any punch. He looked down at his hands, his breath shuddering in his chest.
I wasn't strong enough, he thought bitterly. If I had just been stronger... if I hadn't hesitated...
He clenched his hands until his knuckles turned white, staring at them as if the answers he needed would appear in his bleeding palms.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, to Arnik's shock, Lumis let out a low chuckle.
It grew louder. Deeper.
Until he was laughing outright—cool, unrestrained, almost cruel in its sharpness.
Arnik's fists tightened, his anger spiking.
Is he mocking me...?
But before he could shout, Lumis waved a hand dismissively, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Forgive me," Lumis said, his voice dry. "But you're an idiot."
He stepped forward slowly, his eyes locked onto Arnik's.
"Strength doesn't save every soul—it binds the ones left behind. Stop bleeding over what's gone and lead what remains."
Lead what remains...?
Arnik's eyes trembled, his breath catching. The words sank in like iron weights, dragging against the pit of his heart.
Is that what this is...? Am I dragging Markus's name behind me like a chain...?
He looked down again at his shaking fists, plasma still crackling weakly between his fingers.
"I wanted to save him…"
"You didn't," Lumis said flatly. "And no amount of regret is going to change that."
Arnik's jaw clenched. He turned his head slightly, biting back the wave of emotion threatening to overtake him.
Arnik lay crumpled against the cracked floor, chest heaving, plasma sparking weakly from his trembling fingers.
The weight of Lumis's words gnawed at him, but somewhere deeper... something else stirred.
Markus was right...
The thought crept through the fog of pain.Sometimes... sometimes survival demands sacrifice.It's not about cruelty... it's about the greater good.If we hesitate, if we protect everyone... we lose everything.
His vision blurred—red washing across his sight.Blood trickled slowly from the corners of his eyes, streaking down his cheeks like crimson tears.
The rage and grief he had bottled inside exploded outward.
"I don't care anymore..." Arnik growled, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.
He forced himself up, blood dripping from his chin.
"I'll slaughter every last demon..." His voice rose, louder, burning with raw conviction. "Even if it means sacrificing others to do it!!"
The words echoed like a gunshot across the battered training hall.
Lumis's expression hardened instantly. Without a word, he moved.
In a flash, his plasma-coated fist slammed into Arnik's chest with brutal force, driving him back down.
The ground cracked beneath the impact.
He stood over him, eyes burning—not with anger, but with something fiercer.
Disappointment.
"Markus was wrong," Lumis said, his voice razor-sharp.
Arnik blinked, stunned.
Lumis's words cut deeper than any blow.
"He was a broken man who lost everything. And in his grief, he started believing that sacrificing others was noble. That trampling over soldiers—people with families, with lives—was worth the price of victory."
He knelt beside Arnik, voice low and steady, as if trying to reach the part of him that still cared.
"Each soldier we lead has a name. A story. Someone waiting for them. Throwing their lives away for the sake of revenge isn't strategy—it's cruelty."
Arnik looked away, blood still dripping from the corner of his eye, but his hands trembled.
"You want to fight demons?" Lumis said. "Then don't become one."
He stood again, his voice rising with the weight of conviction.
"Fight with honor. Fight with purpose. Fight like a hero."
He turned his back, starting to walk away.
"Otherwise, Markus didn't die in battle. He died to feed another monster in the making."
The words hung in the air, heavy as stone.
Arnik stayed silent, the burning in his chest no longer just from pain—but shame.
Lumis turned sharply, his coat flaring behind him.
Without warning, he reached down and grabbed Arnik by the front of his armor, hauling him off the ground with one hand.
"You'll never beat me with that mentality," Lumis growled, his voice low and fierce.
For a moment, Arnik dangled there, his battered body barely resisting.
Then Lumis cocked his arm back—and with a single punch, slammed his fist into Arnik's gut.
BOOM.
The impact echoed through the training hall like a cannon blast.
Arnik's body convulsed. The breath was ripped from his lungs in an instant, and his body dropped like a stone, slamming into the ground with a dull, shuddering thud.
For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of Arnik's ragged breathing.
The heavy doors to the training hall creaked open.
Vayne stepped through, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth as he took in the scene: Arnik sprawled out, battered, bloodied, and broken—and Lumis standing over him, expression cold and unreadable.
Vayne raised an eyebrow as he casually slipped off his gloves, tucking them into his belt.
"Sorry, sir," Lumis said stiffly, bowing his head slightly. "That may have been... a little much."
Vayne waved him off with a chuckle, stepping closer.
"No..." Vayne said, voice smooth but carrying an edge. "No, I believe it wasn't enough."
He crouched down beside Arnik, peering at him with an almost lazy curiosity.
"If anything..." Vayne grinned. "Next time, hit him harder."
Arnik lay there, the words drilling into him harder than the punches ever could.
Vayne rose to his feet, his sharp boots clicking lightly against the scorched floor. His gaze lingered on Arnik for a long moment before he turned to the door.
"He's the hero meant to save humanity," Vayne said flatly. "He better start acting like it."
Before the conversation could stretch any further, the heavy doors creaked again.
Crowne strode into the hall, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his long, tattered coat. His scarred face pulled into a wide grin as he sauntered over, boots thudding against the metal floor.
Vayne's eyes narrowed, his annoyance barely hidden behind a lazy half-smile.
"The kid has the right mindset," Crowne drawled, gesturing lazily toward Arnik's battered form.
Vayne's grin sharpened, turning cold.
"He clearly does not," Vayne said, voice like a knife's edge. "He's not a madman... like yourself."
Crowne chuckled, deep and unbothered, as if Vayne's words were the most amusing thing he'd heard all week.
"Mad?" Crowne snorted, flashing a wolfish smile. "No, Vayne. I'm not mad."
He leaned down slightly, his grin stretching wider, his voice dropping to a rough whisper.
"I just know the truth."
"You had a student..." Crowne said, his voice low, almost amused. "Look where that got him."
He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. The flicker of overhead lights caught in his eyes.
"And all the others that came before him."
The room grew still.
Vayne's expression remained calm, but his eyes sharpened like drawn blades.
Crowne tilted his head, letting the silence settle before continuing.
"It's very… unfortunate that I lost him," he said, almost mockingly wistful. "He was strong. Went toe to toe with your hero."
He turned, steps echoing as he approached the exit. Just before stepping out, he cast one final glance over his shoulder.
"I'll be off now then, brother."
And with that, he disappeared through the doorway, his presence leaving behind a cold residue in the air—one that clung long after the door sealed shut.
Vayne extended a hand, and with a subtle flick of his fingers, a small water bottle shimmered into existence—teleported from who-knows-where.
Without ceremony, he popped the cap and dumped the entire thing over Arnik's face.
"Pllhhhaga—!" Arnik sputtered, coughing as cold water splashed down his nose and mouth.
Vayne peered down at him with mild disgust, his lips curling ever so slightly.
"Get up."
Arnik groaned, blinking away the water as he tried to sit up.
Vayne adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with exaggerated care. "Look at you… So inelegant."
He gave a sigh that was somehow both theatrical and deeply disappointed. "And you call yourself humanity's hope."
Vayne turned, his voice losing the edge of mockery and taking on something sterner—final.
You're done for today. Go practice on dummies—maybe they'll hit back less."
He didn't wait for a response. His coat swayed as he turned his back and began walking away, the echo of his footsteps cutting through the silence.
But just before he reached the door, he stopped.
"Arnik…"
The young man looked up, blood still smeared at the corner of his mouth, chest heaving.
"Forget about Markus. It's not your fault."
Vayne's voice dipped lower.
"And never become like Crowne."
Then he walked out, leaving Arnik in silence with the weight of those words pressing heavier than the pain in his chest.
Arnik's breathing slowed.
He looked down at his trembling hands, then at the fading scorch mark still smoking on the floor beneath him.
"…What good is strength," he muttered, his voice hoarse, "if I can't even save my team…"
His fist tightened.
"What am I missing?" he growled, then slammed it into the ground with a metallic crack that echoed through the empty hall.
"Think, Arnik. Think."
Silence.
Then, like a whisper at the edge of a storm, clarity struck.
Don't fight like a demon…
Fight like a hero.
His eyes widened, the pressure in his chest loosening for the first time since Markus died.
"…I honestly thought I was."
He exhaled slowly, pushing himself up on one knee, blood still streaking his temple.
"I better start working on that."