After the brief but intense confrontation with Urano, Requiem found himself bearing the marks of the battle.
A deep wound on his abdomen, hidden but throbbing with pain, served as a reminder of his opponent's power.
Despite his usual cocky demeanor, Requiem had to admit, even to himself, that he couldn’t underestimate the blow he had received.
He collapsed against the wall of a deserted alley, his heavy breathing breaking the silence of the night.
With experienced but trembling hands, he tore a piece of his now tattered cloak and fashioned it into an improvised bandage.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he wrapped the wound with quick movements, knowing there was no time for better treatment.
The fabric soon began to stain red, but for Requiem, it was enough.
"This will have to do," he murmured to himself, slowly rising.
With stubborn determination, he continued on his way.
He knew every corner of his city, every hidden alley, and every secret passage.
His informants, scattered like shadows across the island, quickly provided him with the information he needed.
Finding Love was not a matter of days, nor hours: within minutes, he already knew where to search for her.
When he finally reached her, he tried to show his usual reassuring smile, but his appearance told a different story.
His clothes were torn and stained with dust and blood, the wound still bleeding through the makeshift bandage, and the hat that always marked him was gone.
Even his gait seemed less graceful, his steps heavier than usual.
Love looked at him with concern, but before she could say anything, Requiem spoke to her in a soft, steady tone.
"Don’t worry, little lost one. I’m here, and everything’s under control."
However, his restless gaze and nervous movements betrayed an unusual haste, as if time had suddenly become his enemy.
His usual composure, always impeccable, was cracked.
But even so, Requiem remained the man who knew his city like the back of his hand, and he knew he couldn’t afford to stop for long.
"You’re hurt, you can’t keep going like this," said Ayperi, floating near Requiem with a worried expression.
The spirit watched him with inquisitive eyes, while a faint light pulsed around him, almost reflecting his unease.
Requiem gave a tired smile, slightly tilting his head toward Ayperi.
"Ah, little spirit, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m used to these situations?
Trust someone who’s lived long enough to know every exit. Let me handle this."
Ayperi crossed its arms, floating with a decisive movement, as if to emphasize its disagreement.
"What do you mean ‘handle this’?" it retorted, its sharp tone unmistakable.
"You’re not the only one who knows safe places to keep her hidden.
Maybe if you let me, we’d have a better chance."
Requiem burst out in a hoarse laugh, a mix of amusement and exhaustion, as he leaned against the wall to recover.
"Ahahahah! Little spirit, come on, do me a favor...
Do you think I can’t recognize a bluff?
I bet your plan is to fly around aimlessly until you find a nice tree to hide her under."
"And it would still be better than bleeding to death while you play the tough guy," Ayperi shot back with a sarcastic tone.
At that moment, Love intervened, her face flushed with frustration and her eyes shining with determination.
"Enough!" she exclaimed, glaring at both of them with anger.
"You all keep talking about my fate as if it’s yours to decide.
Love, do this, Love, do that...
But why don’t you just shut up for once and listen to what I have to say?"
Requiem raised an eyebrow, taken aback by her outburst.
"Do you have a plan, little girl?" he asked, curious but with a hint of provocation, as he placed a hand over the wound that was still bleeding.
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Love crossed her arms, breathing heavily from the fatigue and nervousness.
"Definitely something better than standing here talking nonsense while we wait to be caught.
We need to move and stop wasting time."
Requiem watched her for a moment, his eyes seemingly scanning every detail of her face, trying to gauge whether that anger was mere desperation or a true spark of courage.
Finally, he nodded, a slightly mocking smile forming on his lips.
"Alright, little lost one.
You have my full attention. What’s your big plan?"
Ayperi, who had been silent for a moment, chuckled quietly.
"Yes, Love, tell us your plan.
I’m really curious to see how a sixteen-year-old girl is going to take down an emissary and his army."
Love clenched her fists, throwing an angry glance at both of them.
"I don’t need you to mock me.
If you don’t have a better plan, then stop criticizing mine.
I just want to move forward, find a safe place, and leave all this behind."
Requiem let out a less sarcastic smile, almost approving.
"You know I like you when you’re angry, little girl.
Alright, let’s do it your way, but remember: the world out there won’t give you anything for free.
Now, if we’re ready, let’s move before Urano catches up with us."
At that point, their conversation was abruptly interrupted.
A hiss cut through the air, and a massive rock grazed Requiem’s face.
The sound was deafening, like a scream from the earth itself.
The impact behind him was devastating: the rock hit the wall with impressive force, exploding into a thousand fragments and shaking the ground beneath their feet.
A cloud of dust rose, thick and suffocating, enveloping everything in a gray blanket.
Love staggered back a few steps, coughing as she tried to see through the cloud.
Ayperi, alarmed, moved frantically around her, emitting a faint light to help her orient herself.
Requiem stood still for a moment.
"To think I was complaining about the mess in this city..." he murmured, his sarcastic voice still present, but with a trace of tension barely perceptible.
From the dust, an imposing figure began to emerge.
The shapes of soldiers stood out against the dim light, and at the center, Aton stepped forward.
The muscles beneath his black tunic were sculpted like stone, and his eyes, a blinding yellow, fixed on his prey.
Requiem, for his part, remained motionless.
He casually wiped a speck of dust off his shoulder, the smile never leaving his face.
"Well, well," he said, breaking the silence with his mocking tone.
"Here’s a presence that doesn’t go unnoticed.
Let me guess…
Earth sent you to fix the furniture, or are you just here to decorate the scenery with your scowl?"
Aton stopped just a few steps from him, staring at him with disdain.
"Requiem, I presume," he said, his voice deep and calm, like distant thunder.
"I expected to find you among this scum.
You look like someone who thrives in the sewers."
Requiem bowed theatrically, making an exaggerated gesture.
"Guilty as charged!
But let me tell you, chaos has its charm, don’t you think?
And besides, who am I to refuse a good dramatic entrance?
I hope you haven’t run out of moves, because that last one was really... heavy."
Aton didn’t smile.
"I’m not here to play, illusionist.
Where is she?"
Requiem tilted his head, his gaze suddenly sharper.
"Love, you say?
I wonder, though, what could someone like you want with such a fragile creature.
Perhaps you’ve discovered the pleasure of art, or is it just another dirty job?"
Aton took a step forward, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble slightly.
"Don’t waste time with your tricks, Requiem.
Speak, or your tongue will be the last thing you move."
Requiem laughed, a light laugh full of masked disdain.
"Threats, really?
Oh, Aton, you disappoint me.
I was hoping for a little more creativity.
But you see, the problem with your kind is that you always think strength is enough to get answers."
He took a step back, moving his hands as if shaping the air.
"That’s why I’m here, and you’re still standing there asking where Love is."
Aton’s eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped an octave, laden with threat.
"I’m not interested in playing with your illusions, jester. I take what I want."
Requiem stopped, his smile turning sharper.
"Take what you want?
Curious. Maybe you think you’re the protagonist of this story, but let me enlighten you: you’re just a pawn in a game bigger than you can imagine.
And I, my dear emissary, am here to flip the chessboard."
Aton clenched his fists, the ground beneath him cracking slightly.
"You’ve chosen your fate, Requiem."
"Ah, finally, some action.
You know, Aton, I like your style.
But I must warn you: my deck is full of surprises."
He took a step back, ready to play his first card.
"Alright, dear emissary, let’s see who has the better hand."
The sound of heavy footsteps and a hoarse laugh interrupted their confrontation.
From the shadows emerged Urano, dragging Love by the arm, unconscious.
Her fragile and wounded body hung like a broken doll, her clothes torn and stained with blood.
Urano’s self-satisfied grin shone under the dim light as he advanced, looking like someone who had just won a hunt.
"Ah, Aton, you’re looking for this bitch, huh?" he exclaimed, his voice booming through the silence.
With a gesture of disdain, he threw Love’s lifeless body to the ground, making it roll to Requiem’s feet.
"And look who’s back... that fucking jester."
Requiem immediately knelt beside Love, his eyes revealing a flash of concern as he gently touched her face.
"Love..." he murmured through gritted teeth, his usual smile vanishing for a moment.
Urano laughed again, his massive figure standing like an iron wall.
"What’s the matter, jester?
Your little princess broke before you could do your big heroic act?"
Aton, who had remained still until then, watched the scene with an unreadable expression.
His eyes briefly glanced at Love, then lifted toward Urano.
"You’ve never had a delicate touch, have you, Urano?"
Urano shrugged nonchalantly.
"Delicate touch? Why would I, when it comes to this scum?"
Then he turned toward Requiem, tilting his head in a mocking gesture.
"And you, fool?
What trick do you have up your sleeve this time?
Do you really think you can stop me with your playing cards and cheap jokes?"
Silence fell.
Requiem, still kneeling beside Love’s body, didn’t move immediately.
His hand trembled as he gently touched the girl’s cheek, his face for the first time completely stripped of its usual irony.
A deep breath broke the silence, a sound that seemed to come from the depths of his being.
Slowly, Requiem stood, every movement calculated, precise, as if fighting against a primal urge threatening to overwhelm him.
His posture, usually relaxed and almost theatrical, was now rigid, and his body emanated an aura he had never shown before.
A red smoke began to rise around him, crawling like tongues of fire, dancing along his arms and torso.
It seemed alive, pulsating, and with each passing second, it grew denser and more threatening.
The air around him grew heavy.
Requiem slowly raised his head, revealing a face transfigured by rage.
His eyes, which normally had a single point like a dice, began to spin uncontrollably.
First one, then the other, his eyes transformed into incandescent spheres, spinning like two mad slot machines.
The tension grew as the red aura intensified, the shadows around him seemed to twist and bend under the weight of his fury.
With an almost imperceptible movement, Requiem turned toward Urano and Aton.
There was no haste in his gestures, only a chilling calm that was far more terrifying than any outburst of rage.
When his eyes settled, there was no number to decorate them.
Both bore a single symbol: the Jolly.
"You made the mistake of thinking this was a game."
He took a step forward, the red smoke now so intense it seemed to envelop him in a spectral cloak.
"You threw a little girl to the ground as if she were nothing.
You reduced her to a trophy... a whim.
But now, you’ll discover that every action has a price."
The tension in the air was unbearable.
Every fiber of Requiem’s body vibrated with anger, each step he took seemed to weigh like a boulder.
“And I’m here to make you pay the bill.”
Everything suddenly went dark.
“They're all yours, Karna.”
"Rip them apart."