"What is it?" Damon asked coldly.
He stood perfectly still, except for his hair in the wind, as the low sound of his eterna energy rattled the stone courtyard. His eyes locked straight into Klaven's, almost as if refusing to let the young noble look away.
Klaven stiffened under the crushing weight of Damon's gaze. The blue fire-like aura rolling out of Damon's pupils was so terrifying that the air felt thin and suffocating.
Klaven's shoulders folded inward instantly as he instinctively went into a defensive hunch.
"Er... I—I was—" Klaven stammered, there wasn't a single trace of nobility in his voice.
"If school were a person, I'd kill them," Damon interrupted flatly, his voice carried a dry impatience as he stood in front of Trineum Academy's gates. "So talk. I'd like to leave here as soon as possible. There's someone I've gotta talk to too."
Klaven swallowed hard, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at the streams of blue, fire-like waves drifting in Damon's eyes. "I'm sorry. But... Your aura..."
"So? What about it?" Damon asked.
"Prince Damon, I... I couldn't harm you if I wanted to," Klaven whispered, his chest heaving as a droplet of sweat traced his forehead and eyebrow. "Please... It's suffocating."
Damon let out a slow yet heavy sigh. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and the terrifying blue aura gradually vanished, letting the atmospheric pressure return to normal.
"What do y—"
Damon started to speak as he opened his eyes, but the words stopped in his throat.
Right there in front of him, Klaven had dropped his head; he'd bent his upper body forward in a stiff and desperate bow.
The heavy drops of sweat that traced down the young noble's forehead dripped onto the stones below him.
"I'm sorry," Klaven muttered into the dirt. "And I'd like your forgiveness."
Damon looked completely caught off guard and blinked twice. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the red-orange hair bent before him.
"I already forgave you back there. What's this?"
"After giving it some thought... I realized you only said that so we could move quickly," Klaven replied in a muffled voice due to the angle of his bow. "This time... I want your true forgiveness."
A sharp sneer twitched across Damon's face, and his eyes narrowed in pure awkwardness. "Klaven, this feels weird. Could you at least stand straight? You're making me feel bad for no reason."
Klaven's breath hitched, and he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground beneath him. He quickly raised his torso and forced himself to meet Damon's gaze once more.
"I'm kinda confused, so I'll just say this quickly," Damon said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "I don't know why, or what's caused your sudden change of heart. But leave me out of it. You can't possibly think it's not weird that you're demanding my forgiveness at a time when there's literal speculation of Kagarth attacking, right? I don't trust you."
Klaven's jaw simply got stiffer as he stood without an answer, and a short twitch rippled through his cheek as he took the verbal hit. His fingers also twitched against the seams of his trousers.
"You don't get to act the way you did and then demand my forgiveness like it's your salary," Damon continued with a steady and cold voice. "Even if you do, people still have to earn salaries. There is absolutely no reason for me to forgive you for what you did, but there's every reason for me to hold a grudge and keep my distance. Which, honestly, is rare for me."
Damon pulled his phone from his pocket, and Klaven seemed confused by the device shortly. Damon ignored Klaven's confusion and checked the screen, and the glowing digits read 7:03 PM. He slipped it away and looked back up.
"I need to get home. I'll be on my way now. I'm not trying to be rude, but just... avoid me."
Damon took one look at the school and walked past the stunned noble.
"Wait!" Klaven called out desperately.
He lunged forward, his hand flying out instinctively to grab Damon's arm. But the moment Damon's blue-and-gold eyes snapped backward over his shoulder, Klaven's hand froze an inch away from the fabric. He pulled his fingers back as if he had just touched a hot stove.
"S-sorry," Klaven stammered, stepping back. "I just thought..."
Damon paused, turning his entire body around to face him fully as the heavy and stagnant silence of the courtyard stretched between them.
"When I questioned Cythera on whether you truly forgave me, she said she didn't think so," Klaven said, the words spilling out in a rush. "I asked if she thought I should ask you again, and she said she didn't know. But she mentioned you were quick to forgive your mother for faking her death... so I was quick to hope you forgave people easily. I imagine you don't hold grudges against Cythera either. Why do you find it so hard to do the same for me?"
The casual indifference on Damon's face vanished instantly, and his features hardened into a deep, dangerous frown. "My mother...?" He said in a voice that was almost like a low growl.
Klaven's chest heaved once like a quick seizure, and he took a sharp step back, his eyes frantically darting. "I..."
"Haven't I made it clear enough for you?" Damon said as he slowly walked forward with his boots pattering the stone floors and closed the distance. "I don't want to hear your opinions on my family. Regardless of what you think."
Klaven swallowed hard in a dry throat.
"I'm really holding back the urge to hit you right now, but let's talk civil, shall we?" Damon's voice dropped lightly, yet it vibrated with a dangerous stillness. "By your logic, if I did forgive you, would you have asked why I found it so easy? I doubt that. You called someone I cared about a whore. You destroyed a gift they gave me. And you put your foot on my head while I lay helpless beneath you in front of what I just recently found out was billions of people."
Klaven didn't swallow this time; his eyelids fluttered rapidly as the brutal reality of his past actions was laid bare.
"I'm trying to understand, even though it's probably best not to," Damon said, tilting his head slightly. "Why do you want my forgiveness so badly? What does that actually do for you?"
"I- It would—" Klaven's voice cracked, the words jamming in his throat.
"You mentioned my mother and Cythera," Damon cut in sharply in a precise tone. "Is it 'cause they're ladies? I try not to judge people, but who judges based on their gender? Or is it 'cause of the kinda relationship we have? If someone hurts me, I don't judge or forgive them just because of the kind of relationship we have, but rather who they are as an individual. If I had no blood relations with my mother, I'd still have let bygones be bygones, because I know who she is as an individual. And it's beautiful. It's inspiring."
Klaven went completely still. The panic drained out of his shoulders, leaving a heavy, quiet focus in its place. The courtyard went quiet around him, and he just stood there, genuinely listening to the words hitting him.
Noticing the shift in Klaven's face, the sharp edge in Damon's voice softened slightly, though the weight of his words remained absolute.
"Apart from her being my mom, that's a reason I love her. This is gonna sound cruel, dude, but it's true," Damon said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "All the major things you've shown me about your... individual... it isn't exactly... I mean, don't get me wrong, I've never seen a perfect person before. I don't think I want to, to be honest. But you haven't shown me anything to make me forgive you. You get what I'm trying to say, right?"
The hard and defensive lines of Klaven's face turned softer. The arrogant noble who had stormed the Trineum arena vanished completely, leaving a hollow, quiet stillness in the young man behind. In just a few seconds, he looked years older mentally and even more mature physically.
"Yes," Klaven replied, his voice trembling slightly as he looked at the stone path. "I understand. I apologize."
Damon studied Klaven's face as his own expression softened. A heavy weight seemed to clear from his eyes, allowing him to truly look at the boy in front of him, and he noticed the striking contrast of his red-orange hair against his deep teal eyes.
'I guess he really is Cythera's cousin,' Damon thought to himself, noting the faint family resemblance hidden beneath the bruises. 'Though his own eyes look a bit different.'
Damon let out a quiet sigh. He shifted his stance and turned his body toward the open path ahead, where the beautifully contrasting clouds were beginning to settle. His back was now partially facing the school gates, leaving Klaven looking at his side profile.
"Why?" Damon asked quietly.
Klaven blinked, and a subtle wave of shock broke through his quiet demeanor. "W-why what?"
Damon kept his eyes fixed on the sky. "Why did you act that way at the festival? And why do you want my forgiveness now?"
Klaven paused for a long moment, as his eyes remained fixed on Damon's side profile. The stillness between them was almost stagnant until Klaven inhaled deeply, forcing a sudden breath into his tight chest. Damon turned his head sideways as he sensed the shift, and his eyes met the young noble's without a shred of his previous anger.
Slowly, Klaven turned his body away from the school and stood forward, facing the dimming sky the same way Damon did, his eyes tracking the purple and orange colours turning darker into the night sky.
"It's my fault," Klaven said in a flat but steady voice. "And there's no one else to blame for it. I always get compared to others; despite being at the Aegis stage of power, it's never enough. I won't try to justify my actions to you, Prince Damon. But my family, they're never satisfied, and I'm tired of being criticised. Before the match we had at the festival, my parents compared us, mentioning how much you'd grown in a matter of weeks, reaching a stage that takes others decades."
Klaven let out a dry, humourless chuckle that cut briefly through the cooling air.
"I decided I'd show them how strong I was by winning against you. I thought that if I didn't break you completely in front of everyone... the way they treat me... it would continue without ceasing, and it has. Though I still thank The Eternal One, I didn't. It would have been an even bigger disgrace to myself, seeing how powerful your final match-ups were."
Damon kept his hands deep in his pockets, his gaze drifting back toward the sky as Klaven spoke.
'Oh yeah,' Damon thought to himself as a vivid memory of the arena flashed through his mind. 'The gravity guy from Kagarth and the fire guy from Sunspire. Klaven would have died if he'd fought either of them.'
"I don't want you blaming my parents for my actions, though," Klaven continued, and he slowly clenched his fists at his sides. "People hear painful words all the time and are strong enough to neglect them. I suppose I am weak; I'm not strong enough to not let those words control me. I'm not sure if you understand the feeling."
Damon didn't look over, but his voice and face were softer as his hair danced with the wind. "Hmm? What feeling? Weakness?"
Klaven turned his head to look at him; his teal eyes remained remarkably clear beneath his messy, red-orange fringe. "The feeling of pure stupidity. I acted out of blind rage at the festival, Prince Damon. Imagine how stupid I felt when Cythera explained your growth. When I realized you had to pay such costs for it... I don't understand how you can live like that. The more I thought about it, the more guilty I felt. I regret my actions, because they make me feel stupid, more than I actually am."
Damon almost chuckled, but he didn't.
The words Klaven spoke hung in the space between them, almost as if they replayed it in both their minds, amongst other things. For a long silence, neither of them spoke.
Damon turned his head, and the two young men simply stared at one another. The atmosphere felt cooler; despite their different lives, it was more comfortable now. And as if on cue, the night's wind became a quietly heavy gust that flapped the edges of their heavy coats and rustled the branches of the trees above them.
Damon gave a deep, slow exhale, and his breath was visible for a split second in the cooling air.
"I've lived this way for eighteen years," Klaven whispered, his voice trembling just enough to notice. "Not anymore. Moving on is completely impossible with this weight of this… feeling, on me. So... I need your forgiveness before I can even begin to forgive myself."
Damon looked at him, and his expression softened into something genuinely contemplative. "I didn't know that. About your parents and stuff. But... I suppose it all makes sense now."
He paused while the wind whistled through the stone pillars behind them, before he shook his head lightly.
"The thing is, if I told you I forgave you right now... I'd just be lying. I understand you, and I'm really not trying to hold a grudge against you anymore. But if I said I let bygones be bygones... it wouldn't be real. I'd just be saying it out of reluctance, just because I understand where you're coming from."
Klaven searched Damon's face and spoke in a voice that dropped as his sentence progressed. "Do you still think I'm a bad person, at least?"
"No," Damon said honestly with steady and clear eyes. "Not anymore. I just have to be honest and true with you. At least you didn't destroy Alya's core, that's good. And I thought you were working for Doran, actually, so that's good too."
'It makes sense he thinks that…' Klaven thought, 'Yet, I wish I were smart enough to put pieces together like that, but… redemption starts somewhere, that's what Grandfather says. It might never end, but it starts somewhere.'
Klaven looked down at the stone path beneath his boots, and a small, faint smile touched the corner of his lips. This wasn't one of arrogance, but of a quiet and profound relief.
"I understand," Klaven said softly. "I wasn't expecting to earn it just by telling you my faults. But... I feel good knowing it's coming eventually, because I do want to change."
The wind surged again, dancing through the courtyard and scattering a few loose, dark petals across the ground.
Among the debris, his eyes caught a lone petal resembling a Middlemist Red flower. He remembered handing a bouquet of those exact blossoms to Natsuki on her birthday, and a sudden wave of refreshment settled in his heart.
'Everyone has a reason they act the way they do,' he thought.
Then, a much older, heavier memory resurfaced—the projection of Gamishi that his mother had shown him when he first arrived. Damon remembered the desperate hero of Earth, bound in living flame, tortured and utterly destroyed by Kroxus until he absorbed the agonizing emotions of millions just to survive, giving him a power that could force the Multiverse to chase survival. The very man Damon was fated and Chosen to kill.
'But if they all have a reason, a sensible reason, a pitiful one...' Damon thought, his brow furrowed in a quiet internal struggle, '...Can I really call them an enemy?'
He stared blankly ahead, and the silence of his own mind seemed louder than the rustling of trees; he felt worthier to notice.
'Well, anyone who brings harm to those I care about should be an enemy. Regardless of their cause, regardless of what pushed them to take such action. But...'
Damon's jaw got slightly stiffer before relaxing.
'...I do wish people weren't in such unfortunate situations to begin with. Why did I start thinking of Gamishi all of a sudden? Maybe because, like Klaven, he didn't choose his fate...? I dunno. I just hope there's a chance I don't have to kill him now. Hopefully… he's willing to change.'
The heavy thought lingered and remained unresolved, but he let it drift away with the breeze.
The two young men stood side by side and completely still against the stone railing from the winds hitting them. They simply remained there in the quiet courtyard, watching the vast, infinite expanse of nature before them as the first stars began to pierce through the growing dark sky.