REALISTIC ISEKAI: I didn't read this in my novels!

Twenty minutes earlier:

As Miriam's figure moved past the buildings with startling speed, a male figure silently followed her.

'I wonder where this person is going this late and with such urgency too.'

The cold wind blew against his face as he increased his speed abruptly. His ash-brown hair shone in the soft glow of the moonlight, a cheerful smile plastered on his face.

'Hmm...I wonder if my bestest friend is doing okay. I'm supposed to be in the academy tomorrow or Celdric will start throwing a tantrum again~'

A few hours passed as he expertly evaded the senses of his target, and a modest inn illuminated with a softly glowing lamp came into his view.

'Isn't that where he stayed? Drok told me he stayed here before moving in with Dad. What's this person doing there?'

He crouched on a roof near the house, his lips frowning in confusion.

His ears glowed with a blue hue immediately after the person entered the inn.

Focusing his attention on the inn, his ears twitched as he listened to their conversation.

"I'm looking for one Clark Thompson." The voice transmitted, "And I'm not a night walker, but we do have some sort of relationship."

"...A relationship? With my best friend? The voice is altered, has a visual altering cloak on—a high-grade one at that—and is moving in the cover of the night. I have come to the undeniable conclusion that this person must be a threat to his safety. I've heard enough. Time to make adequate preparations.'

A tree rustled as he departed from the location with a cheerful smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Back to the present:

A dense purple aura spilled out of Miriam's frame as she spoke with a voice laced with annoyance and unrestrained fury. "The sun is about to rise. You've thwarted my plans for no reason. And you'll regret standing in my way."

Densdor's wild smile didn't falter after hearing her true voice; rather, he became more excited. "Miriam Rothschild. Looking for my best friend. I've heard rumors, but even I wasn't crazy enough to believe them, but here we are!"

Miriam's body flinched as she dodged the mace, the purple aura covering the edges of her eyes. "Wait. Did you say Clark was your best friend? And how are you still conscious of your actions in this state?"

Densdor's attacks halted for a moment, his eyes flickering with clarity. "Yes. Clark is my best friend. We share a very deep bond."

Miriam clenched her teeth as she intertwined her body. "You said what? Clark doesn't share a deep bond with anyone but me!"

Densdor's grin faltered for the first time as the aura slammed into him. His breath hitched, and his face became unbearably pale.

Miriam's expression was filled with fury, her entire body covered in dense purple as she stepped forward, Densdor's face paling with each step. "Clark is no one else's but mine. I didn't stop him when he wanted to leave. So he has no right to be with another man!"

The black aura surrounding Densdor spiked immediately. Veins bulged on his forehead as he steadied himself and charged with a roar.

Purple and black auras clashed, each with ferocious looks on their faces. Miriam's cloak had long disappeared, and she was left with amethyst armor.

"Your soul severance might have killed anybody else. But too bad I'm not anybody else!"

Miriam gritted her teeth as she aimed a kick at his temple.

A punch was launched at her face immediately after her foot connected, but no one moved from their positions. Gusts of wind flew out due to the impact, and the cracking of glass became louder.

"Do you know why people that are burdened with the aura of destruction almost never survive?" Densdor asked, his mace colliding with Miriam's blade. "It's because they fail to do away with their feeble meaning of pain and grief!"

Miriam's eyes blazed, her voice cutting through the clash like a whip.

"Pain and grief? Don't you dare speak as if you know what they mean to me!"

Her blade roared with purple arcs as she shoved him back, forcing the mace upward. The impact sent sparks scattering, rattling the warped space. Densdor staggered, but his wild grin returned instantly.

"Hahaha! That's it! That's the voice I wanted to hear!"

The mace came crashing down in a wide sweep, tearing through the stone beneath them. Miriam ducked, the weapon missing her head by inches, and twisted, her knee slamming into his ribs.

Crack!

Densdor coughed up black mist, but his counter was immediate—a brutal backhand smashing into her jaw.

Her head snapped to the side, blood spraying across the broken ground. She didn't fall. She spat the blood aside and glared. "You hit like a beast with no leash."

He smirked, breath heavy. "And you cut like a woman terrified to lose."

Their auras surged, colliding again—purple fire against black smoke, the clash sending shockwaves that tore apart the ground. Miriam twisted her blade into a vertical thrust, but his mace caught it halfway, sparks blinding the air.

She pressed forward, eyes narrowing. "Clark isn't yours to protect."

"And he sure as hell isn't yours to cage!" Densdor roared, slamming his mace into the earth. The impact split the ground, hurling both of them backwards.

Miriam landed in a crouch, her blade dragging across the ruined floor, leaving a glowing scar of violet energy. Her armor flickered, soul severance gnawing at her already unstable emotions.

Densdor rose too, panting, with blood on his lips but still grinning—wilder now, darker.

Their eyes met.

And without hesitation, they charged again.

The ground shattered as they met each other in another brutal battle. Mace against sword, feet against fists, and the sun slowly peeking out of the sky.

Sweat began forming on their foreheads; Miriam's purple aura receded, and Densdor's pitch-black aura began gnawing at the edges of it.

"You had a good run, but Clark is mine and mine alone. Once he's back from the elven kingdom, I'll make sure he never gets hurt again!"

Miriam's eyes widened. "He's in the elven kingdom? What is he doing there?"

Densdor's face flashed with confusion as his attack slowed down. "You don't know?" He scoffed. "Yet you claim he's yours."

Dodging a weak jab at her ribs with an annoyed expression, she replied, "I haven't seen him in months, okay? Just tell me what happened!"

The sun had gone halfway through the sky by now, and the faint unlocking of doors reached their ears.

Densdor formed a complicated expression as his aura receded. "But I want to kill you."

"I want to kill you too, but not before we know how Clark's really doing," Miriam urged, her expression flustered. "My attendants don't know I was here, and your dumb formation is going to collapse anytime soon."

Wiping blood from the corner of his lips, Densdor nodded reluctantly and snapped his fingers.

The air warped around them as a blue formation glowed on the shattered floor. "You'll have to come up with a good excuse for your attendants because you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

Miriam didn't respond and let herself be drawn into the space alongside Densdor as she chugged a golden potion.

A few minutes passed, and the space distortion formation collapsed completely. Broken concrete, destroyed shops, and other minor damages were laid bare for the wandering people to see.

"What in the world happened here?!" A man shouted in the distance, his voice filled with anger as he examined the damage. "They destroyed my shop too! I paid a lot of tax money for that!"

People started gathering, each with varying expressions as they whispered amongst each other.

"Someone call the Regulators. Whoever did this has to be punished!" A woman protested as she picked the shards of glass from her window.

Their voices became louder as they marched towards the Regulators' headquarters.

A shadowy figure moved unnoticed on the walls; its formless shape crawled onto the damaged area. "A man who dares to fight with Lady Miriam with such a lack of restraint. I don't know if I should be impressed or scared of him," it cackled. "One thing I am sure of, though, is Master Oliver's reaction to all of this."

The shadowy figure crawled onto a moving carriage as it muttered. "The city of Vossier should be prepared for that bloodthirsty man."

In a well-furnished room with mana lit lamps placed at each corner, Miriam and Densdor sat opposite each other.

"You've been staring at me for a while," Miriam spoke with an annoyed expression. "I have to get back before my attendants get suspicious."

"Are you scared of these 'attendants' of yours?" Densdor chuckled. "That saddens me."

Miriam's eyes narrowed. "I need to know how Clark is doing."

Densdors smile faded as Clark's name was mentioned. "He's not any of your business."

"That's up for debate. A debate we will have later on." Miriam replied.

The smile floated back to his face. "Very well. I didn't know how for that long, but I can confidently say I know him way better than you ever will."

"That's also up for debate." Miriam replied, her expression deadpan, but her fists clenched tightly by her sides.

Densdor's cheerful laughter echoed in the room and he leaned forward, his eyes squinted.

And so he began telling the tale of Clark to his beloved. A story which would either make or break her.