Aziel looked at Arthur with a smug look as he stepped closer, the confidence in his stance unmistakable. The fading light cast long shadows across his features, making the smugness appear almost predatory as he advanced.
Arthur snapped upwards and started to rise to his feet while backing up, his movements jerky with panic and exhaustion. "Look, just leave me... I-I'll be dead weight if I come along." His voice was tinged with desperation, a futile attempt to push away the unwanted help.
Aziel's gaze became more fierce, his blue eyes narrowing with determination as he continued his approach. "I don't wanna." The childish response carried an undercurrent of iron will that brooked no argument.
Arthur took a couple of defensive steps back, his feet shuffling through the dead roses that crumbled beneath his weight. With a flash of concentration, he manifested his odachi—the long blade materializing in his hands, its polished surface reflecting the last rays of sunlight. "I'm warning you, Aziel... Leave me alone." Arthur took a stance with his weapon, planting his feet firmly in the barren soil, his knuckles white around the hilt.
Aziel stopped and smirked, eyeing the blade with casual disregard. "Cute stick."
Arthur was taken aback by his words, the dismissal cutting deeper than he would have expected. But he had no time to respond as Aziel summoned his own weapon. The spear manifested out of lightning, crackling electricity coalescing into spotless, perfect silver in his hands. The air around them charged with static electricity, making the hairs on Arthur's arms stand on end.
Arthur's grip on his weapon tightened as he readied himself, muscles tensing in anticipation of the coming clash. His breath came in short, controlled bursts as he focused on his opponent, trying to predict the first move.
Aziel took a deep breath before taking an angled step, and then vanished in a burst of lightning that momentarily illuminated the dead roses.
'He's gone!?'
And then Arthur felt the presence behind him as Aziel appeared in his shadow. but before his eyes could even so much as flinch, the cold metal of the steel lightning touched his back. Electricity surged throughout his body, every nerve ending firing simultaneously in a symphony of pain. "Sorry about this, but you're too stubborn for your own good," Aziel's voice came from behind, matter-of-fact and almost gentle despite his actions.
Arthur's teeth were clenched impossibly hard as the voltage entered his body, overwhelming his senses and sending him crashing to the ground. His consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind, darkness encroaching from the edges of his vision until it eventually claimed him completely.
Aziel lifted the blade from Arthur's back and sighed, looking down at the unconscious form with a mixture of exasperation and concern. "What an idiot." He let his spear vanish in another flash of lightning before bending down and once again hoisting Arthur onto his shoulder. With his burden secure, he set off across the field of dead roses, his footsteps leaving a trail that was quickly obscured by the shifting petals.
Soon after, darkness consumed the sky and the moon rose, casting silver light over the desolate landscape. The stars emerged one by one, distant witnesses to Aziel's journey with his unconscious companion. Then, as time went on, the moon fell once again and the darkness faded in the presence of the sun rising, painting the horizon with strokes of gold and crimson.
In an old, small stone temple lay a black-haired boy with pale skin, wrapped in dead monk's robes, sleeping on the cold stone floor. The ancient edifice was mostly intact, though signs of age and abandonment were evident in the cracks that spiderwebbed across the walls and ceiling. Next to him, leaning against the weathered stone walls, was a blue-haired boy with perfect muscles, vigilantly watching over the room. The morning light filtered through narrow windows, casting geometric patterns across the dusty floor.
Arthur tossed and turned as consciousness slowly returned to him. His eyes opened gradually to the stone roof above, still blurry in his lethargic vision. The cool surface beneath him was a stark contrast to the warmth of the sunlight touching his face.
'Where am I?' Arthur thought calmly, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm. For a moment, there was peace in his confusion—and then everything came back to him in a rush of memory and emotion. He launched upwards into a sitting position and manifested his sword in a flash of energy, scanning the room until his eyes landed on Aziel.
Arthur's grip tightened on his weapon, and he was about to stand up when Aziel stopped him with a casual warning. "I wouldn't. It didn't work out for you last time; it won't work this time." There was no malice in his tone, just a simple statement of fact.
Arthur's face was contorted with anger as his knuckles turned white gripping his sword. The blade trembled slightly with the force of his grip, but deep down, he knew the truth. He hated to admit it, but Aziel was right—as long as the lightning-wielder wanted to keep him here, Arthur could not stop him. He was too weak, too drained by grief and hunger and the events that had led him to this point.
Arthur's angered expression soon turned to slight shock when Aziel reached into his makeshift pack, constructed from his academy shirt, and pulled out some type of meat. With casual efficiency, Aziel used his lightning-based powers to cook it in an instant, the meat sizzling and browning as electricity danced across its surface, filling the temple with the mouthwatering aroma of cooked protein.
He then threw it towards Arthur, the perfectly cooked morsel landing on the stone floor before him. "Eat... you look frail and gross." The blunt assessment was delivered without ceremony, a simple observation rather than an insult.
Arthur looked down at the meat in front of him and wanted to throw it back at Aziel's face out of stubborn defiance. But the more he stared at it, the more saliva pooled in his mouth, his body responding to the promise of sustenance with a primal urgency that overrode his pride. Arthur hadn't eaten anything but those accursed roses Luke had fed him in almost three weeks. Even for a Chosen, that was a long time, and Arthur was hungry... very hungry.
And now there was perfectly cooked meat in front of him, taunting him with its juicy promise. No matter how much he didn't want to submit, his hand moved on its own, reaching for the offering. Soon Arthur found himself tearing into the juicy meat like a feral beast, all pretense of dignity abandoned in the face of overwhelming hunger.