Adam Lane twirled a thin, black dagger in his hands before he clenched it into his fist and knocked on the wooden door before him. Blood continued to drip down the blade, creating a thin red trail onto the wooden floor of the corridor. He began to wait.

It was far from his preferred weapon, being a mere blade he found in one of Archibald's many offices throughout the world. He took it without a second thought and went along his way, now finding himself only a door from the High Council of the Magecraft Association.

However, he had long decided he would simply kick the door down if they decided not to open it.

He began counting down the seconds. Fortunately for the High Council, an old man named Louis Oxford pulled the door open for Adam Lane. Councilman Oxford forced a smile onto his lips as soon as their eyes met. "Mister Lane. To what do we owe your arrival?" he asked in his attempt to be courteous.

"Go sit," Adam ordered.

They locked eyes once again, and after peering into the stale darkness of Adam's grim eyes, the councilman decided following the Demon-Born's directions would be for the best.

All of the councilmen had been gathered into a single room, and while that may have not been anything out of the ordinary, witnessing Adam Lane, a man clad in black leather and even blacker energy, enter the room holding a thin knife was enough to instill a confused fear and worry into each of their hearts.

"It is my understanding you hired the Old Man of the Mountain. To kill my son. Is this correct?"

The group of men fell silent, each of them facing Adam, some having to turn their chairs, others turning away from their drinks to give the man their full attention. And yet, even as they were all focused, none of them could bring themselves to answer him.

One of them resolved himself and pressed his cigar against the ashtray before him. Dermot Douglass cleared his throat. Adam faced him, their eyes meeting as the councilman began to speak.

"Is it safe to assume you killed the assassin?" Douglass asked.

Adam looked down to his still-bleeding blade. "I did not kill him. However, I did make sure that he will never be able to kill another again."

At that moment, it hadn't even been ten minutes since his battle with Hassan. Adam made sure to slowly remove three fingers from each of Hassan's hands.

Adam simply wished to kill the man who took his son's life, but Charles Archibald suggested the idea of a punishment to last his whole life, instead of one to end it. As he looked up and once more met the eyes of the councilmen, he gripped his blade even tighter.

It was then that Charles Archibald appeared beside his friend. With the most advanced magic a human could behold, Archibald could teleport across the globe with minimal amounts of energy to sense or feel or trace. He stood in silent poise, as if ready to attack with a smile on his face. He didn't hold a cane, but a thin shortsword of silver steel with a crimson gem on its pommel.

He turned to Adam and the two exchanged a few mutters.

To the High Councilmen, the scene of two High-Grades standing before them was all it took to instil fear into each of their hearts. Even the strongest of them knew they could perish in an instant.

Against two of the strongest living humans, there was nothing to be done. No one to call. They could only resign themselves to their fates of whatever would come next.

Douglass' hands were steady, despite his fear. Even as the others began panicking, he stared at the two men, staring past them and at their surrounding layers of dense magic. Thick clouds of energy.

Even as Archibald's energy reflected a silver light, a soothing aura of tranquility, akin to a smooth glass lake on a windless day, he knew of the danger it held.

Adam's energy was nothing of the sort. It was blackness itself, like a blank and starless night. Like nothing he had seen before, it was warping the air itself with each parcel of energy that, whether by accident or by purpose, had burst out of that cloud and escaped with wicked fervor.

"I... I'm sorry," Douglass uttered, now drooping his head over and staring at his own hands.

A shrill pierced the air and the thin blade in Adam's hand disappeared. In the next instant, the blade slammed down onto Douglass' wrist and broke past any bone and fiber inside, shattering, slicing, bursting it all apart.

Adam had not moved.

Each of the councilmen burst up from their chairs in shock, collectively shouting and gasping. Douglass gripped what was left of his wrist in anguish, and his hand remained on the table, severed and bleeding.

"Gentlemen!" Archibald called out. "We're not here to kill you. Although if you try to escape, we will be left with no choice."

Adam began to walk over to Douglass. He made no eye contact, even as the man fell to the floor and laid there, screaming at the agony the Demon-Born wrought not ten seconds ago, writhing at the sight of his handless wrist. Adam did not care, and only picked up his blade from the table of blood and broken wood.

"We're here to exact justice," he said, his voice stale. "All of you in this room are guilty of sin." He gripped the blade and pulled it from the table with ease. "Although if I'm being honest, for me, this is personal vengeance."

"The more you resist, the worse the outcome will be," Archibald said, as if it was a reminder.

Adam made his way across the table and stepped over Douglass, who remained on the ground. "I suggest you seek medical assistance soon." Without a second to waste, he sliced another hand off another councilman and thrust his blade into the man's shoulder.

A swift kick to the ankle was enough to bring him down to the floor.

The councilmen continued to scream in fear, some pushing each other forward to receive their punishments first, others ducking under the table and trying to crawl their way to escape to safety.

Despite all this, none of their attempts succeeded. Adam cut off their feet by the ankles when necessary. He gave a strong slash down the center of one man's chest. And all the while, one of them, Councilman Louis Oxford pleaded with the paladin.

"Charles Archibald. You can't get away with this. We're... political emissaries. Government officials. Something like this cannot be accepted by the Association. Yes. This... is a practical declaration of war against the Association itself. You will not get away with this," he repeated.

In the minute since their arrival, Oxford's suit had been stained with blood and disheveled by movements– movements more rapid and cautious than he had accomplished in years. With his sedentary life, he had grown fat, his cheeks and face and neck already flushed with red, with his heart beating faster than ever before.

He was a short and stocky man, with a head of thin hair, each strand grey. He wore glasses, but they had already fallen off in the skirmish. Now, nothing mattered to him other than his own life. He gripped Archibald's suit, a double-breasted jacket of a stark white, and began to plead. "You will not get away with this," he said once again, shaking the paladin's collar. "We're the High Council, for Christ's sake. I will ruin you. I will ruin your entire family."

Archibald only looked down at the councilman and showed him a thin smile as Adam continued.

With each passing second, Oxford's face grew more distressed. "You can't do this."

Archibald had no response.

"Please. I have a family. I have grandchildren, even. People depend on me. You mustn't harm me. I can offer you plenty. I know you're an Archibald, but... In the same way I can ruin you, I can also build you up. Just keep me safe from that devil, and– I can help you if you help me. We're both humans, see. You have no reason to side with a hellspawn. I can't be left without a hand. Even losing a finger would-"

Archibald raised a single finger to quiet. "I have plenty of reason to side with Adam Lane than you. Plenty of reason to side with one who fights for others."

Adam pressed his palm against Oxford's shoulder. He had finally gotten through the others.

Oxford was far too afraid to turn around. Not only would he meet the Demon-Born eye to eye, but he would also meet the sight of his accomplices and acquaintances all bleeding on the floor.

He shook his head at Archibald. Adam pulled Oxford towards him and turned him around, allowing the man to take a quick look at the blade that will carve into his body in the next instant.

"I..." he stammered out. "I was– I was doing my job!"

"You were behind the entire plan. I know you were," Adam said, bringing his blade to Oxford's neck. Beads of sweat drenched his skin, now becoming red with the dripping blood of the blade.

"I had to protect this country!"

"Is the same excuse you used when you had me, and people like me, in camps in Scotland?"

"Oh, fuck you!" Oxford cried out, a stream of spit and saliva bursting from his mouth.

Adam's eyes began to glow with a pale light. "You're a pig. And pigs shouldn't fool around and pretend to be men."

"You fucking demon! Touch me again and I swear I-"

Adam drove his knife into the councilman's throat, and with a single movement, sliced it off of the man's neck. Oxford's head fell to his left-hand side, blood spilling out and spread, infected his white shirt with scarlet.

His heavy body was quick to collapse, more blood bursting out with the thump of the corpse falling to its knees, and more with the thump of the body collapsing altogether. The quick explosions of blood had gotten onto Adam's pants.

Louis Oxford was the only of the councilman Adam killed. The rest were left alive, panting and screaming for help, bleeding and writhing.

Adam took no pleasure in all that he had done today, so he simply dropped his blade and began to make his way to the door, without so much as a word to the Paladin.

Councilman McDoyle had somehow mustered up the energy and the courage to speak to Adam. He remained on the floor, crawling on his stomach to inch closer to the man who had severed a foot and a hand from his body.

"Adam Lane..." he spat out through his heavy breaths, blood drooling through his cut tongue and cracked teeth. "You won't survive more than a week after this. I promise it."

Adam didn't wait around for the councilman to continue his threats and left through the very door he arrived from.

Archibald smiled and knelt down beside the council member, listening to his grunts. Blood continued to escape from his appendages and beads of sweat carried on their path down his face and down his neck, and fear kept escaping his heart and flooding every fiber of his being.

"If you would like," the Paladin said. "I could cauterize your wounds. That'll be much more worthwhile than attempting to leave the room. Or even getting up and calling for help, if that's what you're trying."

"To hell with you, Charles," he said to the Paladin.

"I would ask this to Oxford, but the man's head has rolled about two and a half meters from his body. Tell me. Do you hate Alexander Lane?"

McDoyle grit his teeth, flashing his bloodened mouth to the Paladin. "It's not... It's not a matter of hatin' him or not. By the rules of this world, his presence alone... It cannot be accepted or forgiven. He survived the trial purely because of you, Archibald. But it isn't proper to bend the rules for an individual. That is why we had to kill him." He turned to the Paladin and spoke again. "If we let him live, there could've been mass deaths. You can trust your friend Adam Lane, but there was no guarantee his son wouldn't be the bane of mankind."

"But..." Archibald interjected. "Many lives were saved because of him. He's a strong magician now. Stronger than most, at least."

"Was..." the councilman corrected.

"No," Archibald said with a chuckle. "He's back. You'll see him if you pay attention at the branch royales this year."

"What?..."

Archibald smacked his knees and pushed himself up with a grunt. "Alright, see you guys. Say hi to Xerxes for me."

- - - - -

While Adam and Archibald carried out this mission of theirs, the Virtues were still at school, with the first years being gathered into the auditorium once again.

This time it was only Mukuro Tucker who spoke before them.

He groggily held the sheet of paper and raised it to his sight. "I see..." he muttered out, unknowing of the microphone at his side. His quick voice burst into the auditorium and echoed into each student's ears, even forcing the teacher himself to recoil and steady himself.

He stood up and stepped back from the desk. "Of the 92 first-year students in the Academy, a mere 41 applied for the royale. That is utterly disappointing, compared to the other years. Still..." He let out a sigh. "The ten chosen to represent our school are as follows. I will not repeat myself, so listen well."

"Gabriel Archibald. Cassandra Augustus. April Cooper. Solomon Piaf."

He cleared his throat and continued. " Leonard Eldar. Bradley Jameson. Rosa Redenbacher. Anastasia Velda. Christopher Velez. That is all."

The auditorium remained silent. Leonard and Alexander recalled each name their teacher spoke, counting on their fingers to realize that he had only spoken nine names. They faced and stared at each other.

"Oh... Right," Tucker spoke, staring at the paper again, locking eyes with another printed name right smack in the middle of the list. "Alexander Lane," he called out, before tossing the paper to the side and began to exit. "The students who have been chosen, please follow me for a meeting of more details for the royale.

Alexander pumped his fist into the air in pure excitement. Fighting humans was never something he truly sought out, but this was a chance to prove himself. A chance to send a message to the world of what he was capable of.

Leonard raised his palms at Alexander they exchanged high fives.

By contrast, Anastasia and Gabriel were hardly as excited. They quickly got up, moving in silence, and made their way down the steps of the auditorium to follow their teacher.

Just a minute later, they were led into a private room, where the ten students stood in a row, staring at the teacher. This time, Tucker had no paper to read off of, nothing to prepare with. All he said was all he knew.

"I'm not supposed to announce such a thing to the rest of the students. This will be made known to the public just half an hour before the battle begins."

He continued: "Like always, there is a certain catch to the royale's system. A theme, if you will. I remember a decade ago they completely forbade the use of magic items and techniques beyond your affinity. Last year there was a strict time limit for who could kill the most curses. Stuff that you're all aware of, I'm sure. We're doing something similar to last year, wherein, we're releasing curses into the island. It will be your mission to kill them. The stronger the spirit, the more points you get per kill. With no time limit, the royale will only end when all curses are dead."

One of the girls raised her hand. Unfamiliar to Alexander, he stared at her for a quick second to process who she was. He had never seen her in any of his classes, but her face remained familiar.

There was no doubt that she was strong.

Her skin was pale, and she had bright red hair and green eyes to contrast each other. Though she wore a long-sleeved shirt, the muscles in her arms remained noticeable. There was no doubt that she was strong. "So, without the time limit, then theoretically it could go on forever, right?" she asked.

"Yep. The time limit last year was to encourage the killing of the spirits. But without that this year, it's practically a four-way battle between each branch and the spirits themselves. A true free for all."

The students exchanged more mumbles, while the girl that posed the question grinned. She didn't turn to anyone or speak– she remained quiet, only cracking her knuckles in excitement.

This time, it was Alexander who raised his hand. "This question is probably asked every year, but... is there any guarantee, anything to be certain that any students won't die?"

The other students fell silent. Not a single student had died over the past decades thankfully, but that thought had never occurred to them. As far as they knew, they realized, their lives were under no guarantee, especially with cursed spirits running around the same area.

"We have chosen the curses with deliberate precision. The strongest of the spirits will have the fight of its life up against the weakest of you. No spirit will be capable of killing a student. Secondly... You may not know this, but the Association itself knows an astounding amount about each student. In complete honesty, a student death occurring remains a possibility. But at the end of the day, it simply won't happen.

"Now, you are allowed to bring weapons with you," Tucker said, quickly moving from the topic. "Each weapon you choose to bring with you must be declared and approved by the school board. You will have the next 48 hours to do so, so please, get it done as quickly as possible.

Alexander nudged Gabriel and whispered, "Don't you dare bring Excalibur."

"I should be saying that to you," Gabriel said with a smirk. "You're up against Keith Miller. You better use nothing but your fists to prove me right, Demon-Born."

A chuckle left Alexander's lips. "I suggest you focus on yourself. The next head of the House of Archibald can't be losing to students."

"Believe me," the blond boy said. "I'd rather die than lose again."