The evening shadows stretched long across Azrael's newly acquired manor as an uninvited guest prepared to make his presence known. Magnus had spent the better part of an hour surveying the property, his Gold-level spiritual perception mapping every room and corridor with methodical precision.
"Let me see where you're hiding," he muttered under his breath, releasing his mental power without the slightest concern for subtlety.
After all, what did a Gold-level Lore Cardian have to fear from some Silver-level upstart? The power gap between their ranks was vast enough to make stealth a mere courtesy rather than a necessity. Magnus had eliminated dozens of targets over his long career, and tonight would be no different from any other professional contract.
His spiritual senses swept through the manor like invisible fingers, probing each room until they encountered a peculiar anomaly, a study where mental power seemed to pool and eddy in strange patterns, as if something was deliberately concealing itself within.
"Found you," Magnus smiled with predatory satisfaction.
The next moment, his figure dissolved into wisps of shadow, the Gold-level transportation technique carrying him through walls and barriers as if they were nothing more than morning mist. When the darkness reformed, he stood in the center of an elegantly appointed study, surrounded by towering bookshelves and expensive furnishings that spoke of considerable wealth.
Seated behind an ornate mahogany desk was a young man whose pale features seemed to glow with an otherworldly luminescence in the lamplight. Rather than showing fear or surprise, the target was watching him with what appeared to be genuine amusement, as if Magnus's arrival had been anticipated and welcomed.
"You actually found me," Magnus observed with grudging respect, though his tone carried more curiosity than concern. "Impressive for someone of your level. And you're not afraid?"
Around the young man, several female figures had materialized, obviously summoned cards responding to the perceived threat. Their positioning and alertness suggested combat readiness, though Magnus noted with professional interest that one of them radiated an aura strangely familiar to his own organization's mystical signature.
The observation sparked a moment's curiosity, but Magnus dismissed it almost immediately. He had no time for mysteries when Alice could return at any moment. Whatever connection that card might have to the Crimson Oath Society was irrelevant to his current mission.
"Forget it," he said with casual dismissal, his hand already moving toward his card deck. "Why waste words with a dead man?"
However, as the young man's voice cut through the tension-filled air, something extraordinary happened, something that would haunt Magnus's nightmares for whatever remained of his life.
"You're here," the target said with calm authority that seemed to resonate through the very foundations of reality itself.
"Sit down."
The words weren't a request or a suggestion. They were a command that bypassed Magnus's conscious mind entirely, reaching directly into the magical contracts that bound his very soul. His body moved without his permission, legs carrying him to a chair that materialized from the shadows with supernatural smoothness. He sat with the rigid posture of a marionette, every muscle locked in place by forces beyond his comprehension.
Terror flooded through Magnus's consciousness as he realized the magnitude of his situation. Only the highest-ranking members of the Crimson Oath Society possessed the authority to override his free will through Jin's binding contracts. The implications were staggering and impossible to accept.
"What did you do to me?" Magnus managed to force the words past lips that barely obeyed his commands. His mind raced frantically, trying to understand how a mere Silver-level practitioner could wield such absolute power over him.
Before he could complete his question, Azrael interrupted with casual familiarity. "Magnus, isn't it?"
The sound of his true name spoken aloud hit Magnus like a physical blow. Through their organizational contacts, Fredrika had naturally provided Azrael with complete intelligence about the assassin they were sending, background, capabilities, weaknesses, and personal details that should have been classified beyond Magnus's security clearance.
"How do you know my name?" Magnus whispered, though cold sweat was already beginning to bead across his forehead as terrible possibilities began crystallizing in his mind.
Fragments of half-remembered conversations and organizational rumors suddenly took on new significance. There had always been whispers among the lower-ranking members about the Crimson Oath Society's true hierarchy, speculation about senior executives whose identities remained shrouded in absolute secrecy.
According to the most persistent rumors, five individuals held positions of ultimate authority beneath Jin himself. These mysterious figures were known only by numerical designations, First Master through Fifth Master, and ordinary members who encountered them would find themselves completely powerless due to the binding nature of their contracts.
The realization struck Magnus with the force of a lightning bolt. Azrael's current demonstration of authority matched perfectly with those whispered legends about the organization's inner circle.
"I don't know which Master I have the honor of addressing," Magnus said with trembling reverence, his earlier confidence crumbling into desperate appeasement.
Azrael leaned back in his chair, allowing the lamp's shadows to fall across his features in a way that suggested both youth and ancient authority. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute command.
"You may call me Sixth Master."
The title hit Magnus like a sledgehammer to the chest. His mind reeled as he processed this revelation, not only was his target one of the Crimson Oath Society's supreme executives, but apparently the rumors had been incomplete. There wasn't a Fifth Master as the highest subordinate; there was a Sixth Master whose existence had been completely unknown to the rank-and-file membership.
Magnus's professional training kicked in as he attempted to analyze the situation logically. This explained everything, why Azrael had been accepted as Master Lucian's disciple despite his youth, why he'd demonstrated such extraordinary capabilities during recent public battles, and why the organization had specifically chosen him for this impossible assignment.
Azrael had obviously been operating under deep cover in Pixar, maintaining his facade as an ordinary student while serving the Society's broader strategic interests. The revelation that he'd achieved such high rank before arriving in the city suggested capabilities that far exceeded anything Magnus had imagined possible.
"Sixth Master," Magnus repeated with appropriate deference, though internally he was cursing Fredrika with every profanity he knew. The woman had deliberately sent him on a suicide mission without the slightest warning about the true nature of his target.
The irony was bitter beyond words, he'd been asked to assassinate his own ultimate superior, and only blind luck had prevented him from actually attempting such organizational suicide.
Azrael nodded with apparent satisfaction at Magnus's recognition of the hierarchy. "Did the Mizuno family hire you for this contract?"
"Yes, Sixth Master," Magnus replied quickly, eager to demonstrate his cooperation. "But please understand that I had no idea of your true identity. My immediate superior ordered me to accept this assignment without revealing any details about the client or target."
"I know," Azrael said with casual dismissal. "I gave those orders myself."
Magnus's brain seemed to short-circuit as he processed this information. Not only had he been sent to kill his organizational superior, but that same superior had orchestrated the entire scenario as some kind of elaborate test or manipulation.
A sycophantic smile spread across his features as understanding dawned. "Sixth Master, your wisdom is truly extraordinary. The Mizuno family's pathetic schemes never had any chance of escaping your notice."
Azrael waved away the excessive flattery with obvious impatience. "My senior sister will be returning soon. I need you to create some convincing destruction in the courtyard and stage a failed assassination attempt."
Magnus closed his mouth immediately, recognizing that Azrael was moving into operational planning mode. Whatever game was being played here, his role was clearly that of an unwitting pawn rather than a decision-maker.
"As for the Mizuno family," Azrael continued with cold calculation, "see if you can eliminate Crowley during your withdrawal. If the opportunity doesn't present itself, don't force the issue."
The Mizuno family had finally abandoned all pretense of civilized behavior, so Azrael felt no obligation to continue treating them with kid gloves. If Crowley happened to meet an unfortunate end at the hands of a Crimson Oath Society operative, well, such things were hardly Azrael's responsibility.
After all, what did the organization's activities have to do with him personally? He was just an innocent student who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Understood, Sixth Master," Magnus replied with the enthusiasm of someone who'd been given permission to indulge his violent impulses.
His earlier fear had transformed into eager anticipation. The Mizuno family, father and son had caused him considerable professional embarrassment tonight, and he looked forward to making them pay for their presumption. Since his true superior had given explicit permission, Magnus intended to make Crowley's final moments as unpleasant as possible.
"Go handle it," Azrael commanded with final authority.
Magnus vanished from the study as if he'd been released from prison, his form dissolving into shadow with obvious relief.
Moments later, tremendous explosions began echoing across the manor grounds. Billowing clouds of smoke and flame erupted from multiple locations as Magnus enthusiastically embraced his role as a rampaging assassin. The sounds of destruction carried clearly through the night air, no doubt alerting anyone within several kilometers that violence was occurring.
Azrael moved to the window, surveying the chaos spreading across his carefully maintained courtyard with a mixture of amusement and resignation. The damage was considerably more extensive than strictly necessary, but Magnus was clearly taking his performance seriously.
After considering the theatrical requirements of their deception, Azrael summoned Fubuki to his side.
"I need you to help me look appropriately battle-worn," he explained with slight embarrassment. "Alice will expect to see evidence that I've been fighting for my life."
Fubuki nodded with understanding, though her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief as she began manipulating her telekinetic abilities. Under her precise control, dust and debris settled across Azrael's clothing while careful applications of force created tears and scuff marks that suggested desperate combat.
The process required significant mental energy expenditure, leaving Azrael with the pale, exhausted appearance of someone who'd pushed their capabilities to the breaking point. By the time Fubuki finished her work, he looked every inch the beleaguered victim of an assassination attempt.
Alice materialized in the courtyard with supernatural speed, her Diamond-level spiritual pressure washing over the area like a tsunami of protective fury. Her usual social anxiety had been replaced by cold professional assessment as she surveyed the destruction and located Azrael among the wreckage.
"Senior Sister, you're back," Azrael said with carefully controlled relief, allowing genuine gratitude to color his voice.
"A Lore Cardian from the Crimson Oath Society just attacked me," he continued, gesturing toward the most dramatic areas of destruction. "Fortunately, he seemed concerned about your possible return and withdrew after a brief engagement."
Alice listened to his explanation with focused attention, her normally nervous demeanor replaced by something far more dangerous. Guilt flickered across her delicate features as she processed the implications of what had occurred during her absence.
"Junior Brother, this is my fault," she said quietly, self-recrimination evident in every word. "I should never have left you unprotected."
Azrael shook his head with apparent magnanimity. "It's fine, Senior Sister. I wasn't seriously injured, and I understand you had urgent matters to attend to."
Alice remained silent for several long moments before speaking a single word with ominous implications, "Mizuni."
Azrael wasn't surprised by her immediate identification of the responsible party. If the Mizuno family possessed the capability to stage tonight's distraction and lure Alice away from the city, their involvement in his "assassination attempt" would be equally obvious to someone of her intelligence and experience.
"Forget it, Senior Sister," Azrael said with apparent forgiveness, though internally he was quite pleased with how events were developing. "I'm unharmed, so there's no need for unnecessary conflict."
Alice studied his pale, exhausted features with growing resolve. The sight of her junior brother in such condition after facing mortal danger seemed to crystallize something fundamental in her normally anxious personality.
"Very well," she agreed, though her tone suggested the matter was far from closed.
"Senior Sister, you should return home and rest," Azrael continued with theatrical exhaustion. "I've nearly depleted my mental reserves and can barely stay conscious."
Alice nodded with understanding, though she paused before departing to provide additional reassurance. "I'll need to report tonight's incident to the Association. Don't worry, I'm leaving one of my cards here for protection."
Azrael thought he'd successfully concluded their deception when Alice's voice reached him one final time, carried on the night wind with barely perceptible volume but unmistakable intent.
"I will help you get revenge."
The quiet promise sent a chill down Azrael's spine as he realized that Alice's protective instincts had been thoroughly awakened. Whatever the Mizuno family had planned as their next move, they were about to discover that threatening a Diamond-level Lore Cardian's family carried consequences beyond their worst nightmares.
As Alice's spiritual signature faded into the distance, Azrael allowed himself a satisfied smile. The Mizuno family had played directly into his hands, providing him with the perfect justification for whatever retaliation might follow. Moreover, they'd unwittingly demonstrated their own capabilities and limitations, information that would prove invaluable for future planning.
The evening's events had transformed what should have been Azrael's assassination into a strategic victory that strengthened his position on multiple fronts. Not only had he avoided genuine danger, but he'd also gained valuable intelligence about the Mizuno family's resources while cementing Alice's protective commitment.
Sometimes the best victories were those where your enemies defeated themselves through their own overconfidence and miscalculation. Tonight had been a perfect example of such strategic brilliance.
As Magnus disappeared into the night to complete his secondary objective, Azrael reflected on the delicious irony of the situation. The Mizuno family had hired the Crimson Oath Society to eliminate him, never knowing that they were essentially paying him to orchestrate his own fake death.
The cosmic joke was too perfect for words, and Azrael looked forward to discovering how the story would unfold when his "assassin" turned their attention to the clients who'd foolishly targeted one of their own leaders.