Thalen's Pov:
I was too tired for speeches. And too angry to care.
That anger… it burned hotter the more my mind crumbled. My eyes locked onto them, burning brighter and brighter.
I took a step.
Tak.
Then another.
Tak.
Third, fourth, fifth.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
I stopped just a meter away.
"Hahaha! Joker!" the fat goat barked, his laughter breaking into a bleat.
Strange.
I blinked at him, and his face seemed wrong—splintered with glass shards, blood trailing down his cheek.
The fat goat staggered back, wailing.
Confusion rippled through the hall. The buffoon looked at me, then at my hand, and his expression darkened.
"You bastard," he growled.
I followed his gaze and finally noticed it. My right hand was slick with blood, glass shards biting into my skin.
"Ah," I muttered. "So that's what happened."
In my anger, I had crushed the glass in my hand without realizing it. Then I struck the grinning fat goat across the face. He reeled, his cheek dragging across the shards that scattered from my broken glass, blood blossoming where they cut.
The other boy only stumbled back in fear, trembling at the sight.
Fat goat trembled in pain, and for a moment, I thought, Not enough.
I turned to the buffoon, frowning.
"What's wrong? You want your daddy's permission to fight?"
I half-expected him to rush me right then and there. But no—he just stood there, glaring, slow to act.
"Just as I thought," I sighed. "A real buffoon."
His face bubbled red with anger, and his fist tightened. He seemed to want to jump at me, but was barely holding in.
"Now, who is the joker here? A buffoon, aka you, who is holding back when his opponent, aka me, is ready to strike." I snickered with disgust, looking at the boy's burning red face and his stance.
'Still holding back,' disappointed, I decide to leave, but then.
***
Marcus's pov:
I looked at his bloodied right hand, and my face twisted into a frown. I had seen his attack—clear as day—but I hadn't moved at all.
The memory of it replayed in my mind, and my frown deepened. Those eyes of his… unnatural. Creepy. Lifeless, yet burning.
Thalen had struck Finn with a precision that a regular human shouldn't possess and Thalen didn't even seem to realize what he'd done. He didn't even know he'd attacked.
"What's wrong? You want your daddy's permission to fight?" he said.
What the hell is wrong with this bastard?
I told myself I could beat the shit out of him, but that certainty cracked when I looked at him again. His eyes, his movements, his words—none of it matched. He was out of sync with his own body.
"Just as I thought," he sighed, frowning at me. "A real buffoon."
My blood boiled. This bastard was begging for a beatdown. My face flushed hot with rage.
"Now who's the joker here? A buffoon—you—holding back when your opponent—me—is ready to strike." h spat those words at me with disgust, watching my burning face and stiff stance.
'I'll kill him today. I'll definitely kill him…'
But my body wouldn't move. I felt paralyzed.
Why? Why? Why?
The question rattled in my skull like broken glass. I couldn't accept it. My fury only grew sharper.
Thalen's eyes dimmed with… disappointment. That expression. That look. It stoked my rage to a dangerous degree. I wanted to tear him apart.
A fucking unawakened bastard.
"A bastard with no right to live in this world. That's what you are, Thalen!"
I sneered, my voice dripping venom. "You crawl into those undergrounds, throwing yourself into death again and again—for what? Three years of drowning in near-death, to awaken. And what's the result?"
"Failure."
I stepped forward, eyes locked on his. Those hazel eyes looked wrong—cracked, glitched—but I wasn't done yet.
Before, I only wanted to humiliate him. Now, humiliation wasn't enough.
How dare he look at me with disappointment?
I wanted to crush him. Break him. Not just now, but for good. In two months, he'd be abandoned, forgotten. But I wouldn't allow even that mercy.
'I'll make his life a living hell,' I vowed.
The thought made me hesitate for a moment. Why was I so obsessed with him? Was it because he was the son of my idol? Was that it?
I didn't know anymore. I only knew I couldn't stop.
"A complete failure," I hissed.
"You showed the Duke what failure looks like."
"You became his stain—one that won't wash away, even with your death."
"You want to know why Duke Azreil never spent a moment on you? Why does he never show you even a flicker of care? Why was your brother Cheliyan welcomed into his office while you were left out?"
"S… stop…" Thalen's whisper trembled out, low and weak.
I saw his shaking fists, his quivering body. My smile widened. Disgust prickled in me for a second—self-disgust—but I shoved it away. The words flowed from me like poison, natural and unstoppable.
His trembling wasn't the same as mine. He shook from weakness. I shook from excitement. The thought of breaking him apart—mentally, physically—was intoxicating.
"S… sto… stop…"
"Stop."
"Stop."
"STOP!"
His roar split the air as he lunged at me with speed no normal human should have. He didn't feel like some unawakened loser anymore—his strength and speed carried the weight of an Initiate at the Balanced Phase.
But I wasn't surprised. Everyone here already knew this. It was the only reason these fools hadn't dared to touch him at past banquets.
His fist connected with my face, hard and fast. I tilted my head just enough to bleed the force away, stumbling back for effect.
He attacked like a mindless beast. I pondered, was this all that it took to break him?
Gasps erupted around us. I didn't care.
I took another hit, and another. I didn't strike back. Not yet.
Because when I did… I wanted my punches to feel like death itself.
He struck like a mindless beast.
Was this all it took him to break down?
My face burned red—not with anger, but from the blows. I stopped softening them. I let them land, raw and brutal.
I didn't know why I let them land. Sometimes, like now, I felt cursed, like a puppet. Why? I didn't know. But I knew one thing—
I had had enough.
'Now the beatdown starts.'
I declared it to myself.