"Stop, this class is over," Yvonne said, dropping from the top of the tree with the elegant grace of a feline.

The students halted their steps.

With a casual wave of her palm, a door opened in the space beside her.

"This is your entrance to the next class," she said, stepping to the side.

Azrael smiled, already walking toward the door.

"Oh, and I keep forgetting to tell you everything," she said, tapping her forehead.

Azrael froze mid step.

"You don’t need to hear this," Yvonne said, glancing at him. "At least, not for now."

Azrael heard her but did not move.

After all, the way she phrased it meant he would still need to hear it eventually.

"For all of you still owing me points, those points will double by tomorrow."

That was all she said. No more, no less.

She leapt up, landing on the tree gently without so much as rattling a single leaf.

The students who owed points froze, eyes wide as her words sank in.

Zuriel was the most dumbstruck of all.

"If you remain like that, you might miss your next class," Yvonne said, pulling them back before their thoughts could wander too far.

There were only two students who had not cleared their points entirely. Valdren and Zuriel.

Azrael flashed a smirk toward Zuriel as he stepped through the door.

Zephyr followed close behind, moving as though Azrael might disappear if he did not keep up.

Zuriel raised his head toward the tree, taking in Yvonne’s carefree expression before following the rest of the students through.

"He truly carries the essence of the Wrath Lineage," Yvonne whispered beneath her breath, still facing the sky.

The students stepped into a new space.

This one was nothing like the previous. Where that one had felt like an endless jungle, this one was a coliseum.

Racks of weapons rested against the walls, each one crafted with a care that bordered on perfection. They gleamed with an otherworldly sheen that made their sharp edges impossible to ignore.

In the center of the coliseum, a person floated calmly, legs folded in a lotus position.

He radiated an aura that made him seem untouchable. His eyes were closed, but the way he tilted slightly toward the students made it obvious he was well aware of his surroundings.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Azrael’s breath hitched.

’Human,’ he thought.

The man before them was human.

No horns. None of the defining crimson of a demon.

He had white hair that reached his collarbone and crystal clear blue eyes that made him look more like a divine being than a mortal. His face was that of a thirty year old.

"Welcome to Combat class. I am Aiden."

As he spoke, his legs descended to the floor softly.

A gentle blue ripple spread outward from the point of contact.

His eyes found Azrael’s, then Zephyr’s. They drifted to Sirris before finally settling on Zuriel.

A gentle smile formed on his lips as he turned away.

"Pick your weapons," he said, gesturing toward the racks on the far wall.

The racks vanished instantly, reappearing beside him.

The students hesitated.

"I don’t have all day," Aiden said, his voice suddenly cold.

The students nodded and shuffled toward the racks.

Even they could not understand why they felt such unease around this teacher.

"What’s your name?" Aiden asked, sauntering toward Azrael.

Azrael looked up to meet his gaze.

"Azrael."

’Bold,’ Aiden mused, holding eye contact.

"Why aren’t you picking a weapon?"

His voice sharpened and his eyes narrowed.

"I use my fists and legs," Azrael replied, unbothered by Aiden’s sudden shift in demeanor.

Aiden furrowed his brows, genuinely surprised.

"Your body? Without weapons?" He repeated, as if confirming what he had just heard.

Azrael nodded.

"You know, bare handed combat is only used when a fighter loses their weapon."

Azrael nodded again, as if that were the only form of language available to him.

Aiden shook his head.

It was common knowledge that using your body as a weapon limited your reach. Even close range weapons like claws and daggers were encouraged for their sharpness and their ability to bridge the gap that pure physical strength could not always close.

"Well, it is your choice. None of my business," Aiden shrugged, turning toward the other students who had already picked their weapons.

"I need you all to write your names on a piece of paper," Aiden said.

Before anyone could raise a concern about the absence of paper, tiny sheets and a pen appeared in each of their hands.

They did not speak much after that. They wrote their names and handed them over.

Aiden collected them all and threw them into the air.

Gravity should have pulled them back down. That was the normal law of physics.

But even the laws of physics seemed to fail at this moment.

The papers hung suspended in the air.

They began to swirl, rotating at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.

Then they exploded outward.

Not violently.

Controlled.

A piece of paper landed in each student’s hand.

Their gazes fell on the papers, but none of them moved to open them.

"Why are you scared?" Aiden asked with a light smile.

The students took that as permission.

They opened their papers.

Azrael blinked as his eyes found Sirris, who looked back at him in the same moment.

It was not just them.

Every student locked eyes with their opponent across the room.

"What about me?" Zephyr suddenly asked, raising his hand.

He had drawn himself.

"Do not worry about that. You will be sparring with me," Aiden said.

Zephyr’s katana slipped from his grip, hitting the coliseum floor with a sharp chime.

Aiden bent down and picked it up before Zephyr could react, handing it back with a calm expression.

Zephyr collected it in silence, shaking his head slowly.

"Since that is settled, shall we begin?"

As he said those words, he snapped his fingers.