Chapter 12:

Chapter 11: Midnight Conversations

Crazy Cultist

Dante sighed as he stepped into the dorm lounge, rubbing his temple. The events of the day had left his mind in turmoil, but seeing Azar stuck to the ceiling, happily eating chocolate ice cream upside down, did not help.

The cultist hummed a little tune as he lazily kicked his feet in the air, one hand holding a small spoon while the other supported his melting bowl of ice cream.

Dante just stared.

Azar, sensing the stare, tilted his head (or rather, tilted it further upside down) and grinned.

"Oh? Crimson boy, what brings you to my lair?"

Dante exhaled sharply. "It's not your lair. It's the dorm."

Azar waved his spoon dramatically. "Semantics."

Dante ignored that and crossed his arms. "How the hell are you sticking to the ceiling?"

Azar took a slow, dramatic bite of his ice cream. "Eldritch secret."

Dante rolled his eyes. "It's magic, isn't it?"

Azar gasped. "You dare to assume such a basic thing?!" He put a hand over his chest, mock-offended. "No, no, dear Dante—this is an advanced technique called 'being built different.'"

Dante rubbed his forehead again.

"...I don't even know why I'm asking."

Azar, still upside down, grinned wider. "Because, deep down, you find me utterly fascinating."

Dante scoffed. "Yeah. Like a plague."

Azar giggled. "Flattery will get you everywhere~."

Dante shook his head and sat down on one of the couches, leaning forward. His expression turned serious.

"...I came here because I want answers."

Azar paused mid-bite, then slowly licked the spoon clean. "Mmmm~ answers, huh?"

He tossed the spoon over his shoulder (it vanished into a black portal), then gracefully flipped off the ceiling, landing right-side-up next to Dante without a sound.

"Alright, crimson boy. Ask away."

Dante studied him for a moment before cutting straight to the point.

"How do I get stronger?"

Azar blinked.

Then, he laughed.

"Ohhh, that's a loaded question!" He clapped his hands together, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Dante frowned. "I'm being serious."

Azar hummed, pacing in a small circle before suddenly plopping onto the couch next to him, sitting cross-legged.

"Alright, alright. Here's the thing, Dante." He tapped Dante’s forehead lightly. "You're strong. But strength alone is meaningless."

Dante furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

Azar smiled, but there was something dangerous behind his silver-streaked eyes.

"A blade without intent is just a piece of metal."

Dante stiffened slightly.

Azar leaned closer, voice dropping slightly. "Tell me, Dante~."

"Have you ever taken a life?"

Dante’s jaw tightened. "...No."

Azar tilted his head. "Would you?"

Silence.

Dante didn’t answer immediately.

Azar chuckled. "See? That hesitation? Just like in the training hall." He leaned back, stretching his arms over the couch. "That's what makes you different from me."

Dante clenched his fists. "So what? Are you saying I have to kill people to get stronger?"

Azar waved a hand lazily. "Not necessarily~. But if you want to reach my level? You need to understand the weight of the blade you carry."

Dante looked down at his sword, still at his hip.

Azar’s voice softened—just slightly.

"A sword is meant to cut. Whether it’s enemies, obstacles, or even fate itself." He flicked Dante’s forehead again. "But yours is dull."

Dante inhaled sharply.

Azar grinned again. "So! If you really want my help—"

He suddenly reached into a swirling dark portal and pulled out a small, pulsating red pill.

Dante’s eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

Azar held it between two fingers, his smile widening.

"A Killing Intent Pill."

Dante's entire body tensed.

Azar playfully tossed the pill into the air and caught it. "Made from the pure, condensed killing intent of others." He grinned. "Just a single dose, and you might start to see the world like I do."

Dante’s breathing steadied.

Azar held out the pill.

"So? Wanna take a little trip into the abyss?"

Dante stared at it.

At Azar.

At the insane, unpredictable cultist who had no reason to help him.

But—

Something inside him wanted to know.

Wanted to understand.

His hand moved.

And he reached for the pill.

Azar’s grin widened.