"What crazy strength," muttered David.
Grace stayed silent amongst the roars of applause and yells. The way his make-believe light magic beckoned to his call, the way he was practically in control of the battle for the entirety of its duration—Grace was most definitely impressed, yes.
However, there was something else.
He didn't know if the others could feel it, but there was something about Elis' presence that was making the hairs on his body rise. Like a bad omen looming overhead, he felt a certain feeling surge through his body.
It was almost like...
Nostalgia...?
His thoughts trailed off in confusion.
It wasn't profound. It didn't eat away at his body like some sort of parasitic creature—but it did linger, like the faintest source of light.
Miller looked at Grace.
"...Are you okay?" He asked him.
Hearing this, Grace stopping staring into the empty space, his thoughts clearing. He turned to Miller, nodding his head.
"Hm? Yeah."
He lied.
To him, the air had become tighter.
Stranger.
~~~
When Elis entered back into the darkness of the tunnel, he pressed himself against the wall, putting the entirety of his body weight into the single lean. The coarse stone answered back, pricking his skin.
What... Elis thought, his hand trailing to his forehead.
Then to his cheeks.
And then to his neck.
He was scorching hot.
His legs stayed firm, and his body felt relatively fine—it was really just his head that was feeling all of this strangeness.
It must because of the mana-enhancement drug... He conjured inwardly. When he did his first injection, he also had a similar fever-like symptom with the hot temperature.
Fuck... this new dosage.
Still, even with the first injection, the fever-like symptom did not feel like this. Elis closed his eyes, intaking the world. Then he opened them back, pushing off of the wall. He gathered his bearings, a ragged breath escaping his lips.
He looked onward and slowly forced himself to ignore the pulse that pounded in his head.
Even with this pain, the plan remained—to win this tournament.
~~~
An hour later.
Not too far away from Serene Harbor, Ivan and Rufus were boarded on a large ship. It was no cruise ship, but a ship of this size was perfectly suited for their intended operations.
Plus, a cruise ship was not available in the company budget.
Yet.
The steerer of the ship looked at them from above at the steering wheel.
"We'll be at the port in twenty minutes."
Ivan was the first to respond; a simple nod of the head, and a swivel so his eyes could clearly witness the gorgeous view of the island that they would be arriving at shortly.
Swoosh...
Ivan's hair parted ways from the gentle breeze, his gaze somewhat indifferent.
Rufus looked at Ivan, a soft chuckle forming.
"You know, you could have declined this escapade," Rufus told him. "I was going to do this alone — maybe hire someone trustworthy if possible — but considering that you are an integral member of Weaver Consortium, I thought it was only natural to try and reel you in."
Rufus' gaze turned to Serene Harbor.
Rufus did not expect for there to be an immediate answer—and that expectation remained true when there was no words spewed from Ivan's mouth.
Rufus continued. "I also realize that you don't particularly have any history with Grace." Ivan hummed at this.
This much was true.
Despite them growing jn the same academy for a multitude of years — even attending the same classes at times — their interactions were few and far between.
They weren't strangers.
But they were certainly not friends.
Ivan's mouth curled upwards, forming into something of a dry smile.
"You're right about that," Ivan sighed. "But… regardless, it's obvious that Grace is in some sort trouble. It's true I don't know him much at all, but I think helping him is the right thing to do."
Rufus hummed, a chuckle ringing as he looked away, closing his eyes as his straight red-hair swayed gently.
Rufus had almost forgotten—this was Ivan's nature.
He held this effervescent purity; it was something that he, someone who hailed from a lineage that has only known impurity, could not fully understand.
Whether it was naivety or something else, Rufus found it just as much interesting.
"What about you?" Ivan asked Rufus. "Even though this would benefit Weaver Consortium, is there another reason you're doing this?"
Silence.
Ivan observed Rufus, his eyes sweeping through the latter's features. There was nothing immediate to be seen, his observable flesh expressionless.
Then that expressionless face split, his eyes closing as humility sprung from his mouth in the form of a solemn sigh.
"I don't know him that well; he has always led a quiet life, much different from his siblings. Nor did he ever demonstrate anything too extraordinary in comparison to them, as well. So, to answer your question—there is no other reason."
The family name of Walker held exceptional status and strength even amongst the Great Families, with only the founding family — Jade — exceeding it.
People — who bear no sort of resemblance or blood akin to their lineage — always chase the long, dreadful shadows that their backs cast.
Rufus Weaver was no different.
The Weaver Family were great.
But they were not great.
Even someone like Grace, who does not bear the same thick air as his siblings, naturally emanated a superior air. Rufus thought, his mind wandering.
Because, at the end of the day, he was still a Walker.
~~~
When Elis got out of the second match, he felt it again—the same hotness, the one that was writhing underneath the skin on his face.
It cooled down not too long after.
But it had begun once again during the middle of his third match. He dodged an attack, creating space between him and his attacker.
His vision swayed.
And this time, it was not just the intense heat that was as if his face was being burnt off; his entire body was soaring with pulsating pain.
Badump!
Badump!
Badump!
Like a beating heart, the pain coursed. Elis gnashed his teeth down, drawing his attention to his opponent and grounding himself back to reality.
The heat.
The pain—
they stopped.
And Elis was able to focus back into his match, taking care of his opponent not too long after.
When he walked out, he saw Adam waiting for him at the end of the hall, cane in hand as the empty space of the white walls wrapped around his black-suited figure.
"You're fighting sloppily," Adam told blatantly as Elis neared him. "I was watching." Elis did not say anything.
Elis drew near, his steps strong, deep.
"You—" Elis grabbed Adam by the neck and slammed his back into the wall, driving him up as his eyes sharpened into a nasty glare. "—You lied about the dosage!" His eyes glowed with a subtle fury.
Adam, despite the pain, could not help but emit a smile; a hideous one, filled with this refined ruthlessness.
"Haahhhh... Hahaha... Hahahaha..." Adam's gaze locked with Elis' glare; his face remained unflinching, unwavering in the face of his fury.
"You've... finally lost it? Gaahhh... ahahahaha!" Adam's eyes sharpened, forming a glare much like Adam.
"Tell me!" Elis growled like some dog. "What is the real damn dosage?!" His yells — both fearful and desperate — reverberated along the blank space, his glare quivering, threatening to dismantle.
Adam knew, though, that the quivering in Elis' glare did not mean he could fight back.
At the end of the day, his strength paled in comparison.
"Tsk!" The click of Adam's tongue was loud, scornful. "There is no real dosage you think there is. No triple. No quadruple. No quintuple—it was only double." Adam repositioned his neck, the skin hot and red and bulging with painful veins.
Adam groaned.
"But it is as 'he' said: your body is... too far gone, too saturated in... the drug. A higher dosage or not... you would drown in this sin... sooner or later, Elis!"
Elis' eyes then turned blank, his pupils losing some sort of will.
Thump!
Adam was let go, his body crashing onto the white floor. Adam looked up, watching as Elis turned and begun walking.
Invisible to Adam, there were black wisps of mana swirling peacefully around Elis.
Tap!
Tap!
Without a care in the world, Elis walked, his eyes drowned out of color.
Something was calling for him.