"I'd hate for us to fight unfairly," Kori chuckled; "don't you think fighting in here leaves you at a slight disadvantage... what, with those large swords and all," Kori shrugged, "and we'd endanger [Y/n]. I doubt she's going to want to leave." Both males looked down at [Y/n], who seemed to be deep in thought, though did process Kori's words and shook her head to affirm that she was staying. Nyais sighed.

"You mostly fight long-range, Kori," Nyais pointed out - "if you feel disadvantaged, don't try to pretend that it's the other person you speak in the favour of," he muttered, "though if you feel it necessary, I have a space downstairs where you and I can fight."

"Downstairs?" [Y/n] echoed. Never once had Nyais revealed to her that he had a downstairs area.

"I'm afraid you can't come with us, [Y/n]. It's too dangerous for you," Nyais explained.

"I'm staying with you," [Y/n] muttered, "I don't want to lose you again!"

"I can't fight properly if you're there," Nyais said calmly. "Please. Stay here. I trust that Mitzu knows better than to leave yet, anyway. If he tries, he'll lose his legs," Nyais hummed. Though Nyais' voice was not cruel or malicious, Mitzu understood that Nyais wasn't making an empty threat.

"Fine..." [Y/n] tailed off, "but if you die I'll kill you!" she huffed — truly, she was trying to add some light to the situation, but she couldn't really think of many ways to do that. He laughed softly regardless, before beckoning for Kori to follow him. [Y/n] couldn't help but tag along behind at a distance, simply wanting to know where this 'downstairs' was.

He walked to the end of the corridor, straight towards a plain wall. "I'll have to break the wall down. I'd appreciate it if you stepped back a little, Kori," Nyais said monotonously. To his surprise, Kori did step back with a respectful nod of his head. He was taking this oddly seriously for a hate-driven lunatic.

Nyais quite easily kicked the wall down, and it was then that Kori realised something slightly disturbing. For him, at least.

Perhaps this fight was truly out of his league. He and Aytsa had used the element of surprise the first time - the fact that Kori can make himself entirely silent does help, but such a show of brute force... Kori definitely didn't have the strength to kick a wall down first try, and nor did he have weapons that would match against a pair of swords close range. He needed to use strategy, or else this fight could be his last.

The kicked down wall revealed a very dark room - Nyais flicked on a dim light which hung on a cord that was barely a string, flickering now and again. The room below... for starters, it was cold, but Kori also noticed that there was something very sinister about it. It looked as though it may have once been used for storage, but someone had altered it and turned it into a prison-looking room. Kori only hoped the blood splatters here and there had been placed there by a previous tenant.

"Cold feet?" Nyais laughed sarcastically as he waited for Kori at the bottom of the staircase. The boy shook his head, walking down the stairs. Kaist had told him so many times to never underestimate the strength of an elite. Kori assumed he only said that because Kaist wanted to put him off of challenging him, but now Kori wondered if this was what he had meant. He didn't know Nyais' relative strength in comparison to other elites, though he assumed he was stronger than average as he'd mentioned being close friends with King Olli. Kori looked back up the stairs to see the shocked face of [Y/n] peering down into this strange place. He only hoped that this would warp her view of Nyais a bit.

Finally, Kori pulled his shuriken from his pocket. He was also trained with throwing knives and daggers, though he figured this fight would be in need of some creativity on his part. Nyais' weapon was both awkwardly limited and amazingly mouldable, it really depended on skill level. But then Nyais did something that really threw the boy off. He cut a segment of fabric from the jumper he wore and tied it around his eyes.

"Why are you handicapping yourself?" Kori questioned.

"Someone taught you how to conceal yourself," Nyais responded, seeming to answer the question, though possibly dodging it too. Kori took a couple of paces back, narrowing his eyes. He was almost right — Kori had been subconsciously training himself to silence himself since he was small. Kaist explained to him the technique he was using and helped him to improve; but it seemed that would be useless now. Well, the boy had come prepared. He just needed to wait for the right opportunity to use it.

Each time he took a step, Nyais took one accordingly. The man was constantly ahead of him, which frustrated Kori but didn't dishearten him. Both were aware of the disadvantages of making the first move, and both were aware of the consequences of waiting too long.

Unexpectedly, Nyais made the first move, dashing to Kori's right side and causing the boy to jump back in a defensive reaction — but Nyais hadn't left any of himself open, so the boy could only hop back and hope to keep himself on his feet. Nyais repeated the move from before, and this time Kori dodged differently, swerving past Nyais' swords to get behind him. But the older man knew exactly what he was doing; his sword extended to where Kori ran to, carving a gash into the boy's right arm. Kori hissed out in pain but kept himself upright, dodging to the side again.

He switched his blade to his other hand; it wasn't his dominant hand but he could fight with it just as well. He took aim and let go of it, the throwing knife making a beeline for Nyais' chest.

Nyais' parry was so quick that the boy had hardly seen it, but the blade was on the floor and Nyais stood unharmed.

"You wanted a rematch, but so far you're fighting like a small child who wants his toys back," Nyais laughed sarcastically, listening to the boy's muscles tense as he began to get more irascible. Nyais shook his head and removed the blindfold from his eyes, showing the amused expression to Kori.

"Why the fuck are you smiling, old freak?" Kori hissed. Nyais raised a brow.

"You have a lot to learn before even thinking of challenging me properly, Kori," Nyais hummed, "I put on that blindfold to see how fit you were to challenge me seriously. You were very lucky in your ambush before, but now I see that if I were to genuinely try to fight you, I'd likely end up killing you by accident," he hummed. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at self restraint, and... well, knowing what you've done to [Y/n], you must understand that I'd be enthralled to see you live out your days in a cold, dark cell. And I really don't want to be sentenced for murder — I have someone to look after." He turned his gaze up the stairs to [Y/n], who still peered down with a worried gaze.

Kori stared for a moment, seeming blank, before letting out a snort of laughter. He covered his mouth to prevent any more chuckles leaving his lips, but his expression was visibly enlivened.

"If I had any fear of death then I wouldn't have come here in the first place," Kori shrugged, pulling his shuriken from his pocket. "I'm afraid you shouldn't take yourself too seriously, Nyais. You want to protect [Y/n]?" he questioned, his smirk only growing.

"Then do it."

* * *

"Your Highness! Your Highness, I'm afraid this is urgent!" Daon, an elite guard, called frantically into the room in which Olli was situated. He was in a large, empty training room. He didn't train as much as he used to, but to remain king he understood that he couldn't slack off. Not for a second. He turned to face the man who'd opened the doors to the training room, pointing his sword at him with a cold, distasteful expression.

"So urgent that you'd risk losing your hands?" he asked, his tone brimming with boredom. The man nodded fretfully.

"Y-yes Your Highness, I-it's about Nyais. W-well he's dead—"

"That is manifestly self evident," the king interrupted angrily, taking a few strides over to Daon, his gaze clouded with disdain. "If you've come to harp on about old news then I'd very heavily advise you to leave, before I use you as a training mannequin," he muttered. The man bowed his head.

"I-I'm sorry Your Highness, I-it's just that..." he paused, slowly raising his gaze a little to meet Olli's callous one, "a couple of elites reported... um... they said they'd seen him going off to his apartment. He was all bloody and... and um... h-he—"

The man paused when they saw the small smirk that'd formed on the King's expression. Such a sudden change in stance, expression and aura. Daon wondered whether he was about to die.

"When you see him, welcome him back for me, would you?" Olli smiled.

* * *

"Hey Rayne, what are you doing?" Aytsa questioned, perching himself on the operating table in Rayne's office as he watched the doctor try to patch up the hole in the ceiling. Rayne turned his gaze to Aytsa with a warning glare that told him to shut the hell up, but Aytsa didn't really feel like being quiet. "Your practical skills are basically non-existent," Aytsa giggled, watching Rayne try to figure out how the hell he was supposed to screw the board to the ceiling. He held his screwdriver awkwardly in his hand, before groaning.

"I've only ever used this thing on people... hell if I know what it's former use was," he rolled his eyes, "I'd usually hire someone else to do this for me."

"So why didn't you?" Aytsa pressed. Seeing Rayne's incompetence was genuinely going to kill him. As someone which plenty of experience in the art of making and fixing things, he was so close to spontaneously combusting out of sheer rage and frustration in just watching Rayne's incapability that he had to take a series of deep breaths. In and out he inwardly chided. In and out.

"Because no one would ever accept a business offer from me now. They all either hate me or fear me," Rayne shrugged, "and I seem to have become a bit of an urban legend for the lower classes." Aytsa definitely saw an element of pride in Rayne's gaze regarding his new 'urban legend' status but chose not to comment, instead focusing on keeping his rage at bay regarding Rayne not being able to do something as painfully easy as fixing his ceiling. Maybe Aytsa was supposed to offer a hand or something? But that's effort, and Rayne's annoying, so maybe not.

"How'd you break the roof?" Aytsa asked, leaning back a little as though he wasn't annoyed. Totally not annoyed. Deep breaths.

"Why'd you keep asking questions?" Rayne muttered.

"Because you look like you're in a good mood," Aytsa shrugged, "I mean you're holding a screwdriver and you haven't even threatened me with it yet." Rayne stared at the screwdriver and then at Aytsa, before shrugging. "See! Something's happened. What is it?" Aytsa smiled - it was a bit forced, but who cares? Rayne didn't respond, so clearly not him. "Hey! Down here! Stop ignoring me or I'll knock down that stepladder," Aytsa huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Imprudent brat," Rayne rolled his eyes, "if you so much as try I'll cut off your toes and stuff them into your eye sockets," he mumbled, still trying to work out the whole screwdriver thing. "I've merely fucked up someone's life a bit. Nothing more, nothing less," he hummed.

"Who's? Mine? Laion's?" Aytsa pressed.

"No, you're not significant enough for me to care," Rayne responded levelly. Aytsa rolled his eyes.

"You don't care about anyone, though," Aytsa muttered.

"Ah, you're right..." Rayne tailed off. "I don't."