In a Civilized Manner

The first thing Darcie felt was a wave of nausea.

Faint sounds of collision seeped into her ears as an imminent brightness threatened to rip through her eyelids. The intermixing of light and sound crashed into her senses at once, and she subconsciously let out a groan.

“Darcie? Can you hear me?”

A familiar voice and a familiar name. Fluttering her eyes open, Darcie stared dazedly as the distorted figure slowly stabilised into a person. Tears filled her eyes the moment she ascertained the person's identity.

“Doris, is that you?”

She remembered now.

It was her little sister’s seventh birthday, so Darcie had gotten off work to celebrate. When she got home, however, she saw her sister being kidnapped right before her eyes. Her last memory before losing consciousness was the approaching of two people dressed in all black.

At the thought, Darcie brought her legs to her chest, a thin layer of sweat forming on her forehead. She recalled flashes of her sister's unconscious face and the horror that fell upon her as the figures in black simultaneously looked her way.

The surges of memory came upon her in the form of another wave of nausea, and Darcie suddenly found it hard to breathe. Before she could say anything else, she was pulled into a tight hug by a small pair of arms.

“Darcie. It’s me. I’m Doris.” Face buried against her stomach, the little girl, only half of Darcie’s size, trembled as she listened to her sister’s heartbeat. After a few seconds of silence, she squeezed out a whimper. “I’m scared.”

Darcie's breath hitched in her throat as her nose grew sour. She wrapped her arms around Doris, exhaling shakily as drops of tears streamed down her cheeks.

Even though Darcie became an Awakened, she was a slow learner. With no money to hire an academic mage, she joined a charity club where other Awakeneds, in similar situations as her, would help each other out.

Yet as time passed, she noticed that no matter how hard she tried, she'd always be the last to understand a skill, the last to pull off a spell successfully. Even when it was the most rudimentary ones in the book.

If only she discovered her potential sooner, or maybe if she practised more and was more talented... Then maybe, just maybe, she would have been able to protect Doris from those people.

She wasn't a good sister.

“I’m here, Doris." She swallowed, feigning calmness. "It’s going to be okay.”

The two of them stayed just like that, neither saying anything. After half a minute, Darcie turned her attention to the chaos in the background.

Flashes of light emerged from different parts of the chamber, each followed by a loud explosion. She knew something intense was going on, but the details weren’t something a regular person could discern with raw vision.

“ …What is happening?” Darcie muttered subconsciously as she turned towards Doris. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Doris shook her head, pointing towards the distance. “That man saved you.”

Darcie’s gaze landed on a masked man standing amidst the chaos. At sight, several faded memories resurfaced, and Darcie readjusted her vision. Dazedly, she glanced at the man again, a sense of familiarity rising within her.

“Prophet Edris?”

The man’s loose vest fluttered wildly in the wind, its flamboyance creating a stark contrast to his thin build. A purple fog spilt out of one of his hands while streams of white flowed out the other. As Darcie witnessed this sight, she couldn’t help but wonder how the man was still standing.

It wasn’t just Darcie. As the hypnosis wore off, more and more people started to regain consciousness. The first thing they noticed was the thick veil of purple shielded above their heads. It didn't take much for them to comprehend that the barrier was to protect them from whatever was occurring at centre stage.

Following the direction of the barrier, their attention then fixed on the three figures on the circular platform.

In their eyes, the owner of the purple shield was obviously on their side; the same goes for the white-haired combattant, seeing the way they collaborated.

The former controlled the set like a puppeteer behind the scenes, while the latter took the role of the active executor. The white-haired man and his opponent weaved through the ragged space, creating sparks all over the chasm.

One hand still gripped onto Darcie’s arm, Doris pointed towards the white-haired man with the other. “Darcie, is that an angel? He looks like the angels in my picture book.”

“No…” Darcie refuted out of habit, but her voice trailed off as she stared at the astounding sight.

Majestic, righteous, and kind—angels were mythical creatures that had only appeared in the kingdom’s fables. But if there ever existed a fable about a snowy-haired angel fighting as a knight, she thought it would be the scene unfolding before her eyes.

She hugged Doris tightly and whispered, “Maybe so.”

Hearing the sisters’ conversation, other Awakeneds gazed towards the stage with looks of both hope and anxiety. They couldn’t help but wonder about the identities of the two that came to their aid.

Even though none of them had met the two before, their presence gave them all an indescribable sense of reassurance.

Unaware of the thoughts of the surrounding people, Edris planted both feet on the floor as he concentrated on the battle between Ace and Robin.

With a constant supply of mana at hand, Ace was—needless to say—strong. He moved swiftly and precisely, and the mana sword in his hand was like a weapon of death as it slashed toward its target without mercy. In any normal battle, his opponent would have undoubtedly lost their lives at this point.

However, there was something different about this one.

A snicker escaped his lips as the robed man swirled to the left, evading the strike from Ace's sword. The mana-formed weapon sliced through the air, leaving behind a lingering streak of white. Rather than an exchange of combat, the man moved ever-so-gracefully, as if he was a performer on stage.

Each movement was executed with utmost ostentation as he glided across the platform, engaging in a ballroom dance. His flirtatious gaze swept past Ace, both teasing and provoking. The latter's face visibly grimmed as he shot forth for another attack. Even Edris couldn't help but crease his brows at the excess exhibitionism.

What's more angering, however, was the effectiveness of his style.

Every time Ace’s sword was about to hit its mark, the robed man somehow managed to slither past like a shadow, widening their distance at once. At first, Edris thought the man was trying to run away, but that speculation proved to be wrong, as Robin moved around Ace. He spread his arms and grew closer little by little, only to draw away again when the latter tried to attack.

Once or twice may have been luck, but by the third time, Edris knew something was off.

This whole time, the robed man played a defensive role, evading Ace’s attacks as he deliberated back and forth, as if in a dilemma about something.

But about what?

From his peripheral vision, Edris noticed the viscount’s remains lying lifelessly on the ground, and his eyes widened.

“Don’t let him touch you!” Edris yelled.

Memories of the observation room and the viscount’s last moments flashed in his mind. If his speculations were correct, the man’s ability, be it hypnosis or something else, was only possible through physical contact with his target. It would explain why the viscount had them personally bring the intruders to the hypnotist, as well as the sudden death of the viscount after Robin touched him.

Despite the chaos, Edris’s words managed to reach Ace as the latter fell back at once, his dark eyes capturing Robin’s every movement.

Noticing the change of pattern in the white-haired man’s movements, Robin let out a soft sigh. He landed flawlessly on the ground, patting off the dust on his hair.

“Looks like I’ve been found out.” He laid out both hands, voice tinted with regret. “I can’t help it. Your abilities are so beautiful I want to keep you for myself.”

With a meter distance between them, Ace raised his gladius as he stared at Robin with narrowed eyes. The latter didn’t seem offended but rather pleased as he leisurely examined the glowing sword.

“Ah. So, so pretty.” He laughed uncontrollably, his silvery, high voice echoing through the chamber. Wiping a nonexistent tear off his mask, he then turned towards Edris. “Hey, will you give him to me?”

Edris was going to reply that he was in no place to answer the question, but he paused, suddenly remembering that they were technically under a special contract.

“I’m afraid not.” He shrugged a smile, and Ace gave him a look.

“Heartbreaking.” Robin sighed softly, then stepped forward without warning.

Without a moment wasted, Ace swung his sword, and the white mask on Robin’s face snapped into two. Unlike the fake hypnotist, whose mask was attached to the flesh, this one seemed to be a regular mask as it plopped to the floor.

Under the mask was an innocent-looking young man with light blue eyes. Solely from his appearance, the man would easily pass as one of the scholarly mages. Minus the bloody lips and hysteric gaze, of course.

Robin didn’t seem to notice his exposed face, or he simply didn’t care. Either way, he lunged forward and reached out toward Ace. His actions were nimbler than expected, and Ace immediately slid sideways. Instead of his face, Robin’s hand managed to touch his mask, knocking it down in the process.

Ace moved backwards again, enlarging the distance between them.

“So close.”

Clicking his tongue, Robin bent over and, with both hands, picked up his white mask off the ground. He gently wiped it with the sleeves of his robe and then placed it in his pockets. As the hypnotist lifted his head, he made eye contact with Ace and paused mid-action.

“Hm? What’s this?” Robin’s eyes lit up as he judged him from top to bottom. “You look like someone I know.”