Ghosts howled across the heavens as a colossal hand wreathed in the essence of death descended from the sky, its shadow promising to erase the entire Mizuno family manor from existence.
"Master Lucian!" An enraged roar erupted from the ground below.
Vast mists billowed upward in a desperate attempt to engulf the massive spectral hand, but the defensive technique proved utterly inadequate against such overwhelming power.
The dark appendage of destruction crashed into the earth with apocalyptic force, meeting only the terrified gaze of the elderly patriarch who had dared to cross a master-level practitioner.
"BOOM!"
The explosion that followed shook the very foundations of the surrounding mountains. Violent tremors rippled outward as the shockwave reduced centuries of Mizuno family prosperity to smoldering rubble in mere moments.
When the fog finally cleared, nothing remained of the once-magnificent estate but twisted metal and broken stone scattered across a crater that would serve as a permanent reminder of this day's consequences.
"Consider this a minor warning," Master Lucian's voice carried down from the heavens with arctic coldness. "Let there be no repetition of such foolishness."
Azrael stood beside his teacher, staring at the devastation below with undisguised amazement. His throat felt dry as he processed the casual efficiency with which Master Lucian had demolished an entire noble compound.
Teacher calls this a "minor warning"? he thought with a mixture of awe and concern. What would a serious punishment look like?
"Master Lucian, you've overstepped acceptable boundaries."
The icy voice that cut through the settling dust belonged to a stranger, a middle-aged man with a meticulously groomed goatee who regarded them both with expressionless calculation.
Azrael's enhanced perception immediately recognized the newcomer's formidable spiritual pressure. This was another master-level practitioner, though one whose presence carried the subtle authority of governmental backing rather than Association independence.
"Attempting to interfere, Zidaine?" Master Lucian's tone carried dangerous amusement as he addressed the newcomer. "How predictable."
The man called Zidaine maintained his stoic composure for several heartbeats before responding with careful neutrality. "I understand your anger, but we must consider the broader implications, "
"Spare me your political platitudes," Master Lucian interrupted with a dismissive wave. "I know exactly what you're going to say about the 'greater good' and 'maintaining stability.'"
His eyes blazed with controlled fury as he continued. "The problem is that while I've been working diligently on the front lines, protecting this empire from real threats, these parasites have been sitting safely in their mansions plotting to murder my disciples."
"Tell me, Zidaine, was I supposed to simply ignore such provocation? And before you answer, remember that you only arrived in time to save them from complete annihilation."
Azrael listened to the exchange with growing understanding. The dynamics were becoming clear, Zidaine represented the Imperial Court's interests, while Master Lucian championed the Association's more aggressive stance toward accountability.
Based on Master Lucian's pointed remarks about publicity, Zidaine clearly operated in the shadows rather than seeking public recognition. This suggested the Court maintained hidden assets beyond their publicly known master-level practitioners.
"As I suspected," Azrael mused internally, "the government has been concealing their true strength."
Zidaine's weathered features showed genuine weariness as he recognized the futility of lecturing someone of Master Lucian's stature. "Now that you've vented your initial anger, perhaps we can discuss this matter with cooler heads?"
Master Lucian's pale eyebrows drew together in a thunderous frown. He understood that Zidaine's intervention meant the opportunity for decisive action had passed. The political considerations that governed interactions between Association and Court would now constrain his options.
With visible reluctance, he allowed some of the killing intent to fade from his aura. "Very well. But the terms of any discussion will depend entirely on my disciple's preferences."
Little Azrael, Master Lucian's voice resonated directly in his student's mind through their spiritual connection. What outcome would satisfy you?
Azrael studied Zidaine's composed expression and the smoldering ruins below, weighing his options with tactical precision. While part of him craved seeing Crowley and his family completely destroyed, he recognized that forcing Master Lucian into open conflict with the Court would create unnecessary complications.
Teacher, let's hear what they're willing to offer, he responded through their mental link. I don't want my personal vendetta to create political problems for you.
Master Lucian felt a surge of pride at his disciple's mature consideration of the broader consequences. The restraint Azrael showed despite having every right to demand blood spoke well of his character and strategic thinking.
Your wisdom serves you well, though I want you to understand, if you had chosen otherwise, I would have supported that decision completely.
What Azrael didn't know was that Master Lucian had been fully prepared to continue his assault regardless of political ramifications. The aging master possessed both the power and determination to reduce the Mizuno family to ash, and Zidaine's presence alone wouldn't have deterred him if his disciple had demanded absolute justice.
"Then let us proceed with negotiations," Master Lucian announced aloud, though his tone suggested this was a concession rather than enthusiasm.
Zidaine's shoulders visibly relaxed as immediate violence was averted. He'd genuinely feared that Master Lucian would choose to finish what he'd started, which would have left the Mizuno family as little more than a cautionary tale told in whispers.
These idiots, Zidaine thought with barely suppressed irritation. Why did you have to provoke someone of Master Lucian's temperament?
The Mizuno family's political connections might provide some protection against ordinary practitioners, but master-level powers operated by entirely different rules. Ancestral legacy and past achievements meant nothing when faced with someone capable of casually erasing cities from the map.
Did they really believe that having produced a single master-level ancestor generations ago would protect them today? Zidaine wondered with professional exasperation.
While ancient master-level artifacts might remain in the family vaults, such treasures required master-level strength to activate effectively. Diamond-grade equipment would prove woefully inadequate against a determined master's assault.
The three practitioners descended to ground level, where they found Ottarl, the current Mizuno family patriarch, glaring at Master Lucian with wild eyes. Blood matted his disheveled hair while his expensive robes hung in tatters around his trembling frame.
The man looked as though he'd aged a decade in the past few minutes, his face bearing the hollow expression of someone who'd glimpsed his own mortality and found it wanting.
He actually dared to attack us, Ottarl's thoughts churned with disbelief and rage. The other families assured me this would never happen, that Master Lucian was too concerned with political stability to take direct action.
What the patriarch didn't understand was how dramatically a man's priorities could shift when approaching the end of his natural lifespan. The considerations that might restrain a younger practitioner held little weight for someone preparing to secure his legacy before departing the world.
Ottarl had prepared for political maneuvering, economic pressure, and social ostracism. He had never seriously considered facing the raw, unfiltered wrath of a master-level practitioner who had decided his family represented an acceptable loss.
"Master Lucian has graciously agreed to hear your proposals," Zidaine announced with barely concealed irritation. "I suggest you prepare appropriate terms immediately."
The weight of supernatural authority pressed down on Ottarl like a physical force, reminding him exactly how precarious his position had become. Pride warred with survival instinct before pragmatism won decisively.
With great effort, he forced his trembling legs to support him as he offered a respectful bow. "Master Lucian, please allow me to arrange proper accommodations. My family takes full responsibility for my son's inexcusable behavior and begs for your mercy."
Master Lucian stood motionless with half-closed eyes, his expression suggesting he hadn't heard, or perhaps simply didn't care about, the patriarch's groveling words.
Understanding that words alone wouldn't suffice, Ottarl's knees hit the ground with painful force. "I humbly request an opportunity to make amends for this grievous insult."
Only then did Master Lucian offer the briefest acknowledgment. "Lead the way."
Watching this display of absolute submission, Azrael felt a complex mixture of emotions. While he appreciated his teacher's willingness to defend him so decisively, the raw demonstration of power reminded him how much he still had to learn about the true hierarchies governing their world.
Moreover, seeing Ottarl reduced to such desperate pleading provided its own form of satisfaction. The man who had raised such an arrogant son was now discovering the consequences of that failure firsthand.
Under Ottarl's guidance, the group made their way to one of the few buildings that had survived Master Lucian's demonstration. The structure showed obvious signs of hasty reinforcement, suggesting the family's retainers had worked frantically to prepare a suitable meeting space while their patriarch negotiated for their continued existence.
Inside the makeshift conference room, Crowley knelt with rigid posture and downcast eyes. His usual arrogance had been thoroughly crushed under the weight of witnessing his family's estate reduced to rubble in moments.
Master Lucian's frown deepened slightly upon seeing the young man, though he refrained from immediate comment.
"Worthless disgrace!" Ottarl's voice cracked like a whip. "Come forward and beg for forgiveness!"
Crowley shuffled forward on his knees until he knelt directly before Azrael, his proud head finally lowered in defeat. "Student Azrael, I was completely wrong to attack you. I shouldn't have allowed my jealousy to drive me to such foolish actions. Please find it in your heart to forgive my transgressions."
As he spoke, Crowley pressed his forehead against the cold stone floor with enough force to leave marks. The physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation burning in his chest.
Every word tasted like poison, but the alternative was watching his entire family pay for his mistakes with their lives. The memory of Master Lucian's casual demolition of their ancestral home would haunt his dreams for years to come.
Azrael observed this performance with cold detachment, noting the carefully chosen words and theatrical gestures designed to evoke sympathy. Behind Crowley's apparent contrition, he could sense the seething resentment and wounded pride that would make this young man an eternal enemy regardless of today's outcome.
Before Azrael could formulate a response, Ottarl interjected with forced enthusiasm. "To demonstrate our sincere remorse, the Mizuno family is prepared to cover all costs associated with your future Silver-level card creation endeavors."
Azrael's lips curved in a sardonic smile as he recognized the calculated inadequacy of this offer. While the proposal might sound generous to uninformed observers, it represented a minimal investment for a family of the Mizuno clan's resources.
More importantly, the terms assumed he would remain at Silver-level indefinitely, an assessment that revealed how little they understood about his actual capabilities and advancement trajectory.
Before Azrael could voice his dismissal of such insulting terms, Master Lucian's voice cut through the tension with unmistakable authority. "Insufficient."
The single word fell like a executioner's blade, and Ottarl's face went ashen as he realized his primary offer had been rejected without consideration.
Zidaine, recognizing an opportunity to guide the negotiations toward a conclusion that served the Court's interests, offered his own suggestion. "Perhaps a more public acknowledgment would be appropriate. Crowley could make a full confession of his actions and issue a formal apology through official channels."
Ottarl stared at Zidaine with naked horror, understanding immediately that such a course would destroy his family's reputation completely. While the Court representative framed it as a reasonable compromise, the practical result would be social and economic suicide.
Public disgrace would sever their connections to other noble families and potential marriage alliances. The detailed confessions would provide their enemies with ammunition for decades of political warfare. Most devastatingly, it would make rapprochement with the Association impossible while binding them entirely to the Court's patronage.
Ottarl surveyed the ruins surrounding them and felt his remaining options evaporate like morning mist. "Do I truly have any choice in this matter?"
The rhetorical question hung in the air as he contemplated the reality of his position. Resistance would mean death. Compliance would mean disgrace. Neither option offered genuine hope for his family's future.
After a long moment of internal struggle, he straightened his shoulders with what remained of his dignity. "However, I have one final request before accepting these terms. Allow my son to face Student Azrael in formal combat. If Crowley emerges victorious, we will proceed with our original compensation proposal. If he loses, we will accept Master Zidaine's public humiliation requirements without further protest."
The suggestion represented Ottarl's last desperate gambit. If Azrael proved unwilling to face potential personal risk, perhaps more favorable terms could still be negotiated. If the young man accepted and somehow lost, the Mizuno family's honor could be partially salvaged.
Master Lucian's gaze shifted to Zidaine with obvious understanding. Both masters recognized the Court representative's manipulative intentions, but the immediate family dynamics took precedence over broader political considerations.
Ultimately, the decision rested with his disciple's judgment and preferences.
"Little Azrael," Master Lucian's voice carried gentle warmth despite the circumstances. "What are your thoughts on this proposal?"