Meanwhile in the hallway
"Those wicked bastards… I'll make sure they pay." Monica Rosewood's voice dripped with venom, each word echoing faintly in the empty hallway. Her sharp heels clicked against the marble floor as she paced back and forth, eyes burning with authority. "Tell everyone to gather for a meeting. I mean the school representatives."
"Right now?" Lilian asked, hesitant. Her hands tightened around the folder she carried, her voice small but steady.
"Yes. Right now. This very minute. Don't waste my time."
Lilian swallowed. "But… to summon all of them so suddenly might be a problem. We should've told them beforehand, so they could prepare. If we do it this way, they might refuse, or—"
SLAP!
The sharp sound cracked through the hall, and Lilian's head snapped to the side. Monica stood with her palm still raised, eyes narrowed with contempt.
"You fool," Monica spat. "If I say do it, then you do it. How dare you talk back to me?"
Lilian lowered her gaze, pressing a trembling hand against her stinging cheek. She bit her lip, forcing down the resentment that bubbled inside her.
Monica stepped closer, her perfume sweet yet suffocating, her words cutting like blades. "A lowly bitch like you dares to speak to me as if we are equals? Just because everyone's calling you the next Oracle, you've already started assuming you might actually become it, haven't you?"
Lilian clenched her fists at her sides, her knuckles white.
Monica smirked. "Well, let me remind you it's only a possibility. We won't know until you receive your first divinity. Until then, you are nothing. Nothing but a pawn I can use as I please."
She grabbed Lilian by the collar and yanked her forward. Lilian gasped as her feet scraped against the floor, her balance breaking under Monica's iron grip.
"I don't care if you become the next Oracle or what grand title you're hoping for. Even if you get your first divinity, you'll still be under me. You'll still be a joke. Right? Don't forget you already made a deal with my country. There's no going back."
Her eyes glistened with cruel amusement. "And that deal was sealed with an Ether Stone. It cannot be broken. If you dare betray it, you'll die. Instantly. Even if you're chosen as Oracle."
Lilian's breathing quickened. She wanted to scream, to deny it but the cold reality was etched in her chest like a brand.
Monica leaned closer, her lips brushing Lilian's ear. "I could throw you into the Red Fog right now, and no one would be able to save you. Do you understand me?"
Lilian's voice was small, cracked. "…Yes. I understand." She bowed her head, hiding her tears.
Monica shoved her away with a scoff. "Good. Now do as I say."
---
End's Room
"Hey, take it easy." Ray's voice was strained with worry.
"Sit down here," Melin urged, guiding End to a seat with careful hands. She looked more worried than she wanted to admit.
Ray folded his arms, eyes narrowing. "So, are you going to tell us about that moving blood coming out of your hands, or what?"
End leaned back against the chair, exhaling heavily. "Oh, this?" He lifted his palm, and crimson liquid swirled in his grasp before hardening into a blade-like shape. "You could say… it's my ability. I can control my blood, shape it into anything. But if I use it too much…" His expression darkened. "I might go berserk."
Ray blinked, unsure if he was supposed to be impressed or horrified.
End flexed his fingers and the blade dissolved into liquid again, dripping harmlessly before vanishing into his skin. "The wound wasn't that deep anyway. It'll close soon. My body heals fast."
He glanced at Melin and gave a faint smile. "So stop crying already."
Melin's eyes welled up again. "But… but—"
"It hurt a lot, didn't it?" she whispered. "Everyone says receiving a skill is a blessing, but yours… it looks like a curse. You have to hurt yourself just to use it."
End chuckled bitterly, placing a hand over his chest. "A curse? Maybe. But it's this curse that kept me alive all this time. So, yeah. I'll take it."
Then, as if struck by something unseen, End's head jerked forward. He groaned, clutching his temple. Images blood, screams, shadows flashed through his mind, memories he didn't want but couldn't push away.
"End? Hey, are you okay?" Melin crouched beside him, reaching out anxiously.
"I'm fine…" he muttered, forcing a shaky smile. "Just a headache. Nothing more."
The air shifted. Blood seeped from his fingertips again, this time forming into a sword with startling precision. Its surface gleamed with a faint red light, like a living thing breathing in sync with him.
Melin's eyes widened. "…Is it alive?"
"Maybe." End's voice was low, almost fond. "It's my blood, after all. That's probably why I can… talk to it."
"You can talk to it?" Melin gasped.
End gave her a mischievous smile. "Want me to show you something?"
Melin hesitated, then nodded nervously. "O-okay…"
"Hey, blood," End whispered, his tone commanding yet playful, "go mess with Ray a little."
The crimson blade dissolved, slithering across the floor like a serpent.
Ray's eyes darted down. "H-Hey, what the hell is that thing doing?!"
Before he could react, the blood coiled up his legs, snaking around his torso, and yanked his head back with sudden force.
"Wha—ahhh! What are you doing?! Stop! STOP!" Ray screamed, struggling against the liquid grip. His hands clawed at it, but the blood was like iron, unyielding and cold.
Melin gasped, covering her mouth. "End! Stop it, he's in pain!"
But End only tilted his head, watching calmly as if testing his own creation. His eyes gleamed faintly red under the dim light.
Ray's screams grew louder. "I swear, if you don't stop, I'll—!"
The blood tightened, then loosened just enough for him to gasp for breath.
End finally sighed and raised his hand. "That's enough."
The blood released Ray instantly, dripping away into nothingness.
Ray collapsed onto the floor, coughing and glaring. "You… psycho!"
End smirked faintly, his gaze distant. "Maybe. But now you've seen what my blood can do."
Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and uneasy.
Melin stared at End, her expression torn between fear and sympathy. "…End… what exactly happened to you?"
End leaned back in his chair again, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes. His lips curled into a bitter smile. "…That's a story for another time."