"Looks like you didn't piss yourself after all," Aziz said with a grin as he strode back into the chamber, completely ignoring the lineup of powerful Elders watching his every move like hawks.
"You should be more worried about yourself," Jabari shot back, rolling his eyes at his Master's antics.
Before their banter could escalate further, Idir interjected, his voice calm but firm. "Let's begin, shall we?"
Aziz gave a lazy shrug. "Yeah, yeah. Ask whatever you want."
"In your own words," Idir began, choosing his words carefully, "tell us what happened the night of the beast tide."
Aziz yawned, stretching dramatically. "I was taking a nap, having just kicked out Zaire and the brat – who, by the way, had been using my home like a training field without paying rent. Not two seconds after I got some peace, the siren went off."
He paused, gaze sweeping the Elders with unmistakable boredom.
"I sensed the approach of several Magical Beasts headed this way, so I got up and went to look for my little disciple over here. I figured he'd get himself killed otherwise."
"So, you're saying you left to find him as soon as you heard the-"
"Can you save all your questions till the end?" Aziz cut in swiftly, waving a dismissive hand. "I don't have the patience or the energy for the whole stop-start story time you did with the little brat."
Idir's brows twitched at the interruption. His lips pulled into a tight, strained smile. "I don't see a problem with that," he said, clearly biting back his frustration.
"Great!" Aziz clapped once, cheerfully ignoring the tension. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. I left my accommodation after the siren sounded and went looking for my weak little disciple in case anything happened."
He casually gestured toward Malia. "Found him just as he killed the bear attacking that kid."
Jabari blinked, then turned to his Master with an incredulous look. "Wait, you knew I was coming to look for you, already found me, and still stayed hidden?!"
"Of course," Aziz said with a proud smile. "Did you really think I'd just let you stroll around while Magical Beasts were roaming the Institute? Some of which, by the way, were stronger than the Elders sitting in front of you right now?"
The Elders bristled.
"Then why didn't you come out and help me? Save me the headache."
Aziz's smile vanished. His tone shifted, suddenly becoming more sombre.
"Because after seeing your pathetic glaivesmanship while fighting that bear, I realised you needed a taste of real combat. Not training hall drills. Not sparring. Life-and-death. The kind that either tempers a warrior or ends him."
He stepped forward slightly, eyes fixed on Jabari with rare seriousness. "You chose to walk the path of a warrior. That means risking your life over and over again. While I'm your Master, there will come times when I won't be there to protect you."
His words hung heavy in the air.
"I'd rather you break when I'm around to pick up the pieces, than die because you froze in battle."
Jabari's breath caught.
He remembered the trembling in his hands when he first fought that bear. The hesitation. The sluggish reactions. The way fear clouded his technique. If he'd faced that crystal wolf in that same state…
"I understand," he said sincerely.
Aziz's stern expression softened slightly. "Good."
Then, with a lazy stretch and a grin returning to his face, he added, "Besides, if I'd come out too early, you never would've become a Glaivesman."
He returned to his story as though nothing had happened. The Elders, however, weren't nearly as composed.
More than one clenched a fist or grit their teeth. In their eyes, despite Jabari's rising talent, he was still a student. A first year. He should have shown deference. But instead, he spoke freely. Interrupted freely. And worse, Aziz encouraged it.
To them, it felt like the lines of respect had been blurred beyond recognition.
Yet none of them dared say it aloud, not after watching Bamidele fall.
In the presence of this Master and disciple duo, even status and seniority felt like fragile illusions.
"Anyway," Aziz continued, hands behind his head in his usual laid-back manner, "I watched the boys take on the wolves. I even saw August save Jabari."
As he said it, he shot a cheeky wink toward August. The latter simply closed his eyes, unmoved, as if the gesture didn't even register.
"I saw them meet up with Danso, that brat Silver, and the rest just before the troop of gorillas came charging in."
He paused, casting a glance around the room filled with tense Elders.
"I considered stepping in at that point," he said thoughtfully, "but figured it was the perfect chance for not just Jabari, but each of them to get some much-needed real experience. So, I watched from afar."
Several Elders visibly twitched at his words, but none dared speak yet.
"After the battle, I saw Danso and Azurian turn on Jabari and August. Like August, I could tell they were being controlled. But I could also sense that the one responsible was Silver-"
"You knew that this Silv-!"
Aziz was interrupted this time, not by Idir, but by a stocky, barrel-chested man with a gleaming bald head and a war hammer taller than he was. Danso' mentor, Elder Chiumbo. His voice had barely left his mouth before he, too, was silenced.
"Shhh." Aziz raised his finger to his lips, eyes wide and mocking like he was addressing a misbehaving child.
Chiumbo half-rose from his seat in outrage, his face reddening, but Elder Yared calmly placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The tension lingered, thick as smoke, but Chiumbo eventually sat back, muttering under his breath. Danso, seated nearby, smiled helplessly at the whole exchange.
"Where was I again…?" Aziz asked, tapping his chin theatrically. "Ah, right. As soon as Danso and Azurian were controlled, I sensed it came from Silver. That's due to a certain ability of mine…
But we'll get to that."
The teasing in his tone was deliberate, a thorn casually pressed into the side of the Institute's pride.
"I watched until Jabari collapsed after beating Silver at his little game. Then August made his move to protect him – and that's when he appeared.
The black-grade mercenary from Devil's Paradise. I believe his name was Vlad something…"
"Vladimir Varishkov," August calmly supplied without opening his eyes.
"Ah yes! Good ol' Vladimir," Aziz echoed with a grin.
The vein pulsing on Chiumbo's temple grew more pronounced at the casual way Aziz allowed a student to speak mid-trial, while he himself had been silenced. Several Elders exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared speak.
"Ooh, right," Aziz continued, "you lot probably don't know much about Devil's Paradise. Not your fault. They don't really operate in Ulo. But everywhere else in the world, they're infamous."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.
"They take on any job – massacres, assassinations, child killings, political coups. If you've got the coin, they've got the blade. No morals. No loyalty. Just blades for hire."
He began to count on his fingers.
"They rank their mercs with colours: Blue, Red, Black, and Gold. To give some context: Blue-grade mercs range in power between the average newly awakened Beast Warrior to the more powerful senior students in the Institute.
Red-grade mercenaries? They range in power from the Deacon-level to, well, you," he said, pointing casually at Idir.
Idir's brows twitched slightly at that, but he gave no reply, simply absorbing the information.
"Black-grade mercs are on a whole different level. Their level of power is roughly comparable to the average Grand Elder to your 'Prime Elder'.
But gold?" Aziz tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "There's only one."
He let that sink in.
"And they're no weaker than your Patriarch."
"Impossible!" Diallo barked, rising from his seat.
He wasn't the only one. Gasps echoed across the room, disbelief written on nearly every Elder's face. The Patriarch was considered invincible. That a mercenary could be compared to him was heresy.
Only Zaire remained calm, arms folded and expression unreadable. He had already glimpsed the scope of the wider world, thanks to Aziz. As for Idir…
Idir just watched in silence, unreadable as ever.
"You really believed your Patriarch was the only one to reach that level?" Aziz said, shaking his head. "Don't be so naïve. There are dozens of known experts at that realm across the world. And who knows how many more that prefer to stay hidden.
There was a slight mocking lilt in his voice, one that only Jabari caught. The others were too busy trying to process what they'd just heard.
"But anyway," Aziz said, waving a hand as if brushing away a dream, "after I killed that Vladimir whatever-his-name-was, I tried to catch Silver. Unfortunately, he escaped."
He shrugged as if chasing down a mass-murdering puppet master was of little consequence.
"And that," he said, stretching slightly, "is what happened."
Aziz yawned.
"Now, feel free to ask any questions you like."
It took several long moments before the Elders could collect themselves.
Even Elder Idir, the ever-unflappable centre of the room, had required a breath or two to reorient himself after Aziz's casual revelation that there were dozens of individuals in the world on par with Patriarch Darnell. Still, he was the first to recover.
"You'll have to forgive us," he said, voice level but slower than usual. "The information you just gave us was quite… surprising."
Aziz just offered a lazy smile and folded his arms behind his head.
"I only have a few questions. First, just how strong was that black-grade mercenary exactly?"
Aziz tilted his head, then shrugged as if discussing the quality of fruit at a market stall. "Overall, I'd say he was pretty average in terms of black-grade mercenaries. If I had to guess, I'd put him at about the same level as your Supreme Elder."
A stunned silence crashed into the room like thunder.
Not a single Elder spoke. Even Diallo's back stiffened, his hands twitching by his sides.
Aziz, meanwhile, didn't seem to notice, or care.
Idir coughed softly to break the silence. "From the accounts of three witnesses, it's said you completely dominated the fight… to the point where you used it as a lesson for your disciple."
"That didn't sound like a question," Aziz replied flatly, gaze drifting toward the ceiling.
"Apologies," Idir said with a strained smile. "It's just difficult to believe that someone who matched the Supreme Elder's strength could be defeated so effortlessly."
Aziz's eyes gleamed with mischief as he turned his gaze on Diallo. "You really think my nation would send someone weak to protect a member of our royal family?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine.
Diallo opened his mouth, but no words came out.
The Elders looked at each other. For the first time in their lives, they were being forced to reevaluate their place in the world. Ulo had always been their universe. The idea that other nations might rival or even surpass it had never felt real until now.
"Your second question?" Aziz asked, snapping them from their thoughts with a stretch.
"Ooh. Right." Idir blinked. "How was it possible for someone of your calibre to let a child get the best of you and escape?"
That question reignited the interest of every Elder in the room.
If Aziz was truly as powerful as he claimed, then Silver – a mere teen – shouldn't have been able to slip away.
"Because that child," Aziz said, his grin vanishing, "was an Original."
The reaction was immediate.
Gasps. Stiffened postures. Several Elders half-rose from their seats. Even Diallo looked stunned.
They may not have known much about the world outside their borders, but everyone in Ulo understood what a bloodline ability was. And they definitely understood what it meant to be an Original.
"You're sure?" Idir asked quickly, eyes narrowing. "What's his ability?"
"I can't say for certain," Aziz admitted. "But based on what I experienced, I'd guess his ability allows him to manipulate the senses and even the minds of his targets. His ability to cast illusions are so flawless that not even I could see through it when he used it on me."
A weight descended over the chamber.
The implications were staggering.
Zaire spoke next, his voice calm but probing. "What makes you so sure he's an Original?"
Aziz's smirk returned as he slowly turned to Jabari and gave him a subtle nod.
Jabari let out a sigh. "I don't know why you don't just use your own blood for once," he muttered, drawing his glaive and making a shallow cut across his palm.
A few drops of blood slid from the wound.
Before they could hit the floor, they froze mid-air and began to float – drawn toward Aziz like metal to a magnet. They hovered and spiralled around his hands, glowing faintly.
The Elders' eyes widened.
Aziz's own eyes began to shine with a brilliant, unearthly red light.
"Like Silver," he said, voice deeper, "I, too, possess a bloodline ability. Mine allows me to manipulate blood."
The spinning blood droplets danced between his fingers like marionettes on invisible strings.
"But that's not all. One of the other things it allows me to do," he said slowly, "is sense when others around me are using a bloodline ability."
He paused, letting the truth settle.
"As long as they're actively using it, I'll know."
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