"Professor, that wasn't fair! He cheated!" some students protested loudly.
Professor Rock turned slowly.
His stern gaze alone was enough to silence half the room.
"Will you complain about cheating when Nightmare creatures are tearing your companions apart?" he asked, his voice cold as steel.
No one answered.
"Listen carefully. In the Dream Realm, there is no elegance. There is no cheating."
He paused, letting the silence sink in.
"There is only one thing: whether you survive… or not."
The weight of his words struck the students like an invisible blow.
Samael, still breathing heavily, tried to steady himself. His body ached. Every muscle screamed in protest… yet his chest felt strangely light.
I won… he thought, incredulous. I really won.
A tired smile spread across his face.
That had been… fun.
"Ah…" he muttered as the pain finally caught up with him. "I'm sore all over…"
Years of neglect couldn't be repaid in a single fight.
Even so…
It was worth it.
While Samael was still basking in his victory, Leon approached, followed by his lackeys.
He was smiling.
"That was a splendid fight. My congratulations," Leon said, his manners flawless.
"Hm. Thanks," Samael replied bluntly.
He still didn't like Legacies. And to be honest, he didn't have the presence of mind to be polite. The adrenaline was still flooding his veins.
"Hey, watch your tone, you pervert," one of the lackeys snarled.
"Stay out of it," Leon said calmly, without raising his voice.
The lackey immediately backed down.
Leon turned his gaze back to Samael. The smile remained… but his eyes gleamed with something unsettling.
"I would like to request a sparring match as well."
It didn't sound like a request.
It sounded like an offer that couldn't be refused.
What is he planning? Samael wondered warily.
But… if I, a fallen Legacy, defeat the strongest Legacy here…It'll be like slapping all of them across the face.
He had no idea how much he would regret that thought once the adrenaline faded.
"It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty," Samael replied sarcastically.
A few minutes later, after informing the professor and reorganizing the room, Samael prepared for another fight — intoxicated by his own senses.
The moment permission was given, his legs exploded into motion toward the rack of wooden swords.
The students erupted in cheers.
"Go, Leon!"
"Finish that cheater!"
"Traitor!"
Professor Rock watched in silence, slowly shaking his head.
"Life will teach them…" he murmured to himself, his tone low and severe.
Samael was just a few steps away from the swords when Leon struck from the side.
The blow was brutal.
Samael tried to block — but was thrown backward. The impact sent him crashing into the corner of the dojo.
Cornered.
Before he could react, Leon unleashed a relentless barrage of attacks. Samael barely managed to defend, his arms trembling with every clash.
But it didn't last.
Fatigue took its toll.
A mistake.
His arm was struck.
Another blow followed.
His leg buckled under a precise hit, stealing his mobility.
Then came the final strike.
Leon's blow landed squarely on Samael's temple.
His vision went dark, and his body collapsed like a sandcastle.
Before he hit the ground, however, Leon caught him by the shoulder.
He leaned in and whispered into his ear:
"Relax… I take very good care of my things."
There was amusement in his voice.
He wouldn't let such an interesting toy break so easily.
Darkness swallowed Samael's mind.
Memories flashed before his eyes, one after another, until they stopped at that fight… at that clean strike to the temple.
Why did I do that?
I need to apologize to that girl… he thought with regret.
Even if it had been for victory, it was still wrong. And yet, if he could go back in time…
He would do it again.
He didn't have the luxury of being morally righteous in a fight.
Even understanding that logically, the guilt remained, gnawing at him from within.
I'm never going back to that room… he thought, remembering his cold words, his sarcastic tone, the eyes watching him.
The shame was so intense he wanted to disappear. Bury his face in the ground and never resurface.
Just thinking about how many people had been watching made his stomach churn.
Fortunately, he was still unconscious.
…Wait.
Why can I think so clearly if I'm unconscious?
Did my protagonist cheat finally kick in? he wondered, a spark of excitement rising.
But no matter how much he looked around, nothing changed.
Nothing happened.
"That's strange…" he murmured.
Then he saw a light in the distance.
He moved toward it, excitement building, expectations soaring far too high.
But when he arrived, the scene was nothing like he had imagined.
It wasn't power.
It was a memory.
An empty coliseum stretched before him. The ground was soaked in dried blood.
And even with no one in the stands, he could hear screams.
"Blood…"
"Kill him…"
"Tear him apart…"
Voices of men, women… even children.
At the center of the coliseum stood a man drenched in blood, holding a rusted iron sword.
As the man began to turn, Samael tried to see his face.
A blinding flash erupted.
And everything vanished.
Samael awoke before he could see who that man was.