The evening sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the academy's silent courtyards. Whispers ran like wildfire among students—about the tribunal, about the hellish illusion, and most of all, about Asari.
The boy who walked free from what should have broken any mortal.
But Asari?
He was quiet.
Colder.
Darker.
He sat atop the East Tower's edge, legs dangling over the side, eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting the world to crumble. Behind him, Rian approached with hesitant steps, carrying a bundle of cloth.
"You forgot this," Rian said, setting Asari's coat down beside him. "Or maybe you didn't care."
Asari didn't look back. "What do you want?"
Rian sighed. "Headmaster Lazar is coming."
That caught Asari's attention. He turned his head slightly.
"He wants to see you. Says it's not punishment. Says he's curious," Rian explained. "No one knows what he really means."
"Curious?" Asari repeated, voice low.
Rian nodded. "He said… he felt something. When you walked out of the tribunal. Like the continent shivered. He wants to test you himself."
Asari stood, brushing past Rian. "Good."
By sundown, the sparring ground was cleared. Lanterns lit the surrounding colonnades in a soft gold. A handful of elite instructors and silent onlookers gathered—not to interfere, but to witness.
At the center stood Lazar.
The Headmaster.
One of the oldest and strongest living entities in the Dummer continent. His presence alone bent the space around him, and even the most arrogant students kept their mouths shut in his presence.
He was tall and lean, dressed in deep red robes trimmed with ancient symbols. His hair, like silver flames, flowed unnaturally with the air.
Asari stepped onto the platform without a word.
Lazar smiled. "You walk like a reaper. And yet… your aura sings like fire. You interest me."
Asari tilted his head. "I don't care for compliments."
"Good. I don't offer them," Lazar chuckled.
Then, without warning—
—Lazar struck.
A single motion.
Faster than thought.
Asari blocked it instinctively, the air around him cracking from the pressure.
Lazar's eyes gleamed. "You saw it. Impressive."
Asari pushed back, his palm gliding forward in a smooth arc.
Devil Cry: Step One.
The space beneath his feet shimmered, and in a blink, he vanished—appearing behind Lazar with a precise strike aimed at the spine.
But Lazar twisted like smoke.
Their clash became a dance—Asari's brutal efficiency versus Lazar's elegant mastery. Each movement rippled with force. Buildings trembled. Spectators struggled to breathe under the pressure of their auras.
Asari's footwork blurred, his expression never changing.
Lazar raised his hand.
The sky cracked.
Pressure Field: Heavenfall.
Gravity twisted. The platform shattered. A crater spread beneath them as Asari dropped to one knee under the force.
And still… he moved.
With gritted teeth, he rose against the weight.
Devil Cry: Step Two.
A trail of black mist burst from his back. The pressure cracked, and Asari surged forward like a beast unleashed.
His fist met Lazar's palm.
Shockwaves exploded in every direction.
For a moment—just one second—the entire academy stood still.
And then…
Asari stood.
Lazar, ten paces away, lowered his arms.
Blood trickled from his lip.
He smiled.
"Well done," he said, stepping down. "You win."
The crowd gasped.
Even the sky seemed to pause.
"You may go," Lazar said, wiping his blood with a handkerchief. "I got what I wanted."
Asari gave no reaction. He turned and left the fractured arena without a word.
Rian waited near the edge.
"You won…" he said, almost in disbelief. "Against him."
Asari didn't respond. But his body trembled slightly, blood dripping from his right sleeve. The toll was real.
He didn't win easily.
But he won.
Later that night, Aicha sat alone in the library, trembling hands gripping a book she couldn't read.
The whispers were louder now.
Devil.
Monster.
Demon.
But despite their words, when she remembered the trial… she remembered a figure who stood tall among monsters, who pushed her wheelchair with bloody hands.
Her fingers curled.
"I'm coming too," she whispered to herself.
But not yet.
Not until the next step.