Ascension of the Dark Seraph

Escorted by a few stationed guards, Lucivar was finally able to get inside quickly.

His eyes were still throbbing from the camera flashes.

As expected, he doesn't like to be the center of attention—it was tiring and troublesome.

"You'll get used to it soon enough, especially if you're planning to win this tournament," Angel said.

"Huh…" Lucivar chuckled lightly. "Now I'm tempted to lose on purpose."

Coursing through the hall, escorted by a staff of the tournament, Lucivar and Angel were shown their lodging, where their belongings were already placed. All equipment and items needed to be handed over and inspected before today, so that saved them the hassle of bringing the equipment on their own.

Upon reaching their lodging, Angel immediately went to work.

She was going to sweep clean the equipment and the room, to make sure there was nothing dangerous.

Recalling the Nulkiss poison, somebody might be able to go through the tournament organizers' inspection, or worse, have someone they know on the inside. Angel wasn't searching for the Nul Leaf in particular, that wouldn't be placed here—what she was searching for was wire taps or other magical artifacts that could affect Lucivar.

Lucivar also helped here and there, but he was mainly watching.

Even though he groomed Angel to be a good pawn, she could also be his biggest weakness.

He doesn't trust her fully.

Meanwhile, in the neighbouring room, Mirel stepped out.

Seemed like he had arrived here earlier, and he was now already strapped in his combat outfit.

Since the tournament might involve more than fighting, he went with a tight-fitting reinforced yellow and white combat shirt. A few steel plates—were beautifully sewn onto his outfit, protecting his knees and elbows, and the high turtleneck collar rose to shield his throat.

It was compact and minimal, giving enough protection while also not restraining his movements.

"Don't forget your gloves," A woman with white ponytail hair came out.

She handed over a pair of gloves that were humming with the power of lightning.

It was Mirel's only magical artifact that he asked for from the Feradith Family, his sponsor.

"Thank you," Mirel smiled lightly, and wore the gloves.

Just then, he glanced to the side, seeing a big figure walking down the hall.

Caldaros.

Seeing where he was coming from, it seemed he had only arrived and was heading to his own lodging.

Beside him was a woman who had her eyes covered by a white band.

It was a trademark for the members of the Sunrise Clan.

As he walked, he met Mirel's gaze, but he didn't react, not even a simple nod to acknowledge him as he too came from the Bloodhaven Academy. Caldaros walked past him, seemingly not at all interested in Mirel, who, in his eyes, was a nobody.

"I don't know what started your fight, but you should be careful." Mirel suddenly said.

Caldaros stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

"Is that a sign you're going to aim me too?" He raised a brow. "Since you're close with Lucivar?"

"No, I won't, even if he asked me to." Mirel shook his head and turned to face Caldaros. "But I have a feeling he would try something… something bad during the tournament. I am asking you to help if the time comes."

"Oh, I'm surprised…" Caldaros smirked. "I thought everyone around him was bad, but you don't seem to be like the others. But, then again, how could I trust you? You could be lying through your teeth right now to help him take me on."

"Believe what you want. Just be ready when the time comes," Mirel answered and turned away.

His personal assistant followed him on the side.

"Anything you wanted to do—during the tournament, make sure to do it in secret," Caldaros' personal assistant reminded with a warning tone. "You might not be the only champion—the House of Valerius has, but you're still carrying their name. Not to mention, our clan is also quite fond of our reputation, don't mess it up."

Caldaros snorted in response before continuing ahead, heading to his own lodging.

Moments later.

Several times, people budged Lucivar inside his room.

All of them were from the tournament's organizers.

One asked whether he needed anything, another asked him to measure his rank once again, another checked his equipment for the second time, and also explained the rundown to him once again. Every single time it happened, Angel handled it, she handled them all.

Lucivar was now standing in front of the full-body mirror.

Gone was the semi-formal attire prepared by the Blessed Hand Clan—the green polo and white slacks now replaced by his true combat gear. He wore a crimson, form-fitting shirt—paired with black tactical pants, the fabric clinging to his frame like a second skin.

Emblazoned on his chest was a striking white crest.

A fusion of the Blessed Hand Clan's emblem and the Trading Union's logo.

It formed the image of a hand, holding the entire world in its palm.

Naturally, the crest wasn't a normal thing, it was a magical artifact that the Blessed Hand Clan prepared for him. A magical crest that was created by the clan master himself, who was a Holy Spirit Hybrid. It has three charges, and every time Lucivar activated it, his body would be healed back to normal.

From what he has been told, the level of healing was akin to that of a five-star Chrysalis rank.

So Lucivar expected to be healed completely.

Then, he took the dagger on top of a white table—it was his second magical item.

Possessing many sponsors allowed the participant to bring more than one magical item—which meant those who only had one would have a natural disadvantage compared to the others. Lucivar wasn't going to pass up on that advantage, so he picked two.

He wanted to have three, but the rest of the contracts were too underwhelming.

He feels insulted, so he only settled on two.

Upon holding the dagger, he felt a great sense of satisfaction.

It was because of this dagger that the meeting he had with Dullan stretched for hours.

A lot of paperwork only for him to have this dagger.

Mainly, this sharp dagger with a curving cross hilt—was crafted by a master craftsman, made of a lot of rare materials that made the blade sharp and indestructible, and also has the power of the holy attribute. It was the attribute that he chose for the dagger to have.

Normally, anyone with a tainted soul wouldn't be compatible with the holy attribute.

But Lucivar has the Angel bloodline inside of him, no, better, he has an Archangel bloodline.

Holding a dagger with the holy attribute wasn't a problem for him.

'A weapon with the holy attribute is hard to find, simply because the holy attribute is a higher-tier attribute. So, with this, I should be able to nullify some of Caldaros' sun attribute prowess,' Lucivar thought and grinned. 'Of course, Caldaros might see this and figure out that I'm actually an Angel Hybrid. Someone like me, an avatar of Loki, shouldn't be able to wield the holy attribute, so he might figure it out, but… the thing is…'

'I want him to find out…' Lucivar chuckled inside sinisterly.

Caldaros wouldn't figure it out instantly.

At first, he would be confused, and that confusion would greatly help distract him.

By the time he realized it—it would be too late.

And the face he was going to make then… Lucivar's heart raced at the thought of it.

"I was meaning to ask,"

Angel's voice rang from behind, snapping Lucivar out of his thoughts.

"I never knew you were a red-type of man," She looked down and gestured at his combat outfit. "I was expecting you to choose black—since it suits you. Not to mention, you even asked for long sleeves… Isn't wearing that to fight going to be uncomfortable?"

"Hmm?" Lucivar looked down—and back to her. "Red would mask the blood, and long sleeves would keep me clean. Plus, it's way easier to clean since the only exposed part of my body is my face and my hands."

Upon hearing this, Angel paused for a second, shocked.

Then, she forced out a wry smile, 'He's not planning to kill anybody, right…?'

Soon enough, an announcement was made, calling for all participants to gather in the main hall.

Before Lucivar walked out, he gestured towards the tablet Angel was carrying around.

"Show me the Shadow Clan's champion again," He demanded.

Angel tapped on the tablet's screen a couple of times before turning it toward Lucivar, showing a man with a bad, hunched posture, jet-black hair, and sunken eyes that were ringed in deep shadows, panda eyes that showed lack of sleep.

Renis Thalven, the champion of the Shadow Clan.

He was also the one the Blessed Hand Clan expected him to defeat and humiliate.

"What about that girl, the big one?" Lucivar asked.

Knowing exactly who he meant, Angel swiped the tablet and changed the image.

Now, displayed on the screen was a dark-skinned woman with a very muscular build.

Lucivar branded these people in his mind before he turned around to leave.

He didn't say anything—he only turned around, opened the door, and stepped out.

Angel was left behind inside the room that felt more massive than before, now that she was alone.

A wry, self-pitying smile crept to her lips as she mumbled.

"Good luck…"

…

Meanwhile, Lucivar traced along the corridor with vigilance.

He kept his eyes open for anything or anyone that seemed suspicious, since he still does not know the person—who used the Nulkiss poison on him. Not to mention, with today being the day the poison dissolved, whoever it was would certainly do it today.

One moment of weakness and he might be exposed to all.

And that was the worst-case scenario.

He especially became more alert since participants began to crowd him.

Despite the increased standard, restricting anyone below the four-star Acolyte rank from participating, there were still a lot of eligible participants. Most of them were at the five-star Acolyte rank, those who only participated to gain fame.

Then, he felt someone bump into him from behind.

'Is this it?! Is this person the one who poisoned me?!' He glanced to the side in alert.

Reacting almost on instinct, Lucivar grabbed the person's collar and yanked him hard.

But it was then that he stopped, realizing that it was Mirel.

"You seemed uptight," Mirel said, raising both hands as a surrendering gesture.

"Don't do that," Lucivar let him go. "It could've been dangerous."

"Lighten up," Mirel chuckled, keeping up the pace. "It's not like anyone is going to die, right?"

Although it was light, there was a tinge of sarcasm in his tone.

"Of course not," Lucivar answered without turning, also sarcastic. "It's only a stupid tournament."