The Bookkeeper

Raiden's eyes flickered as he stared at the person before him. He felt nothing—no presence, not even a whisper of one. That scared him. His dragon instincts had failed him, and worse, so had his assassin's instincts.

He was a masculine man with short, messy, dark hair that had volume and slight waves. Golden-yellow eyes gleamed behind thin, round-rimmed glasses, giving him an intense, almost mysterious air. His mustache and goatee were neatly trimmed and dark, matching his hair. He wore a white shirt, black tie, and black vest—formal and precise.

"My name is Zion," he said with a cocky smile, approaching them from up in the stands with his golden aura flowing around him.

Both Noelle and Raiden shifted into ready positions, prepared for anything.

"Don't be scared…" Zion said as he sat down, keeping his distance.

"What do you want?" Noelle asked dryly, her tone demanding.

His voice turned deep and steady. "I want to fight with you."

"No, I'm not interested." Noelle's response came instantly, cutting through his words.

Raiden was confused as he looked between them. Zion was a number five, just like Noelle. Considering they had come all this way just to get stronger, why wouldn't she fight? Was he missing something?

"There are four armadas," he gestured to the banner, a menacing smile crossing his face. "That is the Chaos Armada. They sail the deserts with some of the strongest and most powerful forces."

He gestured to the next banner, the one with an arsenal depicted on it. "The Fertility Armada. Strong and determined, the most decent among the armadas."

He pointed to the red banner with a sword across it. "The Misery Armada." Turning to them with a smile, he added, "As the name suggests, they show no mercy."

"The one with the hourglass is the Justice Armada. They sail even beyond the borders of this kingdom."

Zion narrowed his eyes and stood up. "To survive in this shithole, your only option is to get selected by one of them—bought as a bodyguard or work your way up the ranks in whichever armada takes you."

He turned and began walking away from the arena. "I was hoping to see your full potential, but I think you enjoy the idea of living among the stench."

Raiden narrowed his eyes, watching Zion walk away. Noelle wasn't bothered by his words at all; she simply kept eating her bread. But Raiden wanted more, something beyond what he had witnessed from Noelle.

He slapped his forehead and began shaking his head with a smile.

What was I thinking?—he thought.

He always got things his own way, and so why was he treating Noelle like she was above his schemes?

He set Ash down on Noelle's lap and hurried after Zion. "Hey, wait a minute."

Zion paused and turned to him with a fierce expression. Raiden smirked, still walking toward him. "What if I give you a fight instead?"

Zion's expression softened, obviously intrigued. "If I win, you do everything in your power to pave a path for us to join one of the armadas."

"And what's in it for me?"

"If you win, Wolf is yours. Test her abilities to your heart's content."

Zion smiled, gesturing toward the few warriors still remaining in the arena. "There are plenty of people here who would kill each other just to prove their strength to me. I wouldn't even have to lift a finger."

Raiden giggled. "But those aren't the ones you want, are they?"

Zion squinted at him.

"The person you want is Wolf. That's why you went out of your way to interact with her directly." Raiden shrugged with a smile. "This seems like a pretty good bargain to me… you get access to her ability either way."

Zion let out a sigh. "Not many people have a mind like yours, kid."

He looked toward Noelle. "How sure are you that she'd be okay with this?"

Raiden looked at her—sitting peacefully, patting Ash gently while eating her bread. "Trust me, she wouldn't have a choice."

Zion brushed past him, heading to the field. "Let's finish this in the next two hours… I am a busy man."

Raiden watched as Zion headed to the field. He began to feel cozy, finally appreciating the cold breeze of evening, even with his black scarf wrapped around his neck.

He didn't intend to win—the outcome mattered little when he'd get to assess Noelle's abilities either way. Still, unease settled over him. His emotions felt tangled, and confusing.

But he didn't let himself dwell on it. He released a slow breath and walked over to Noelle.

"You're fighting him, and I'm what's at stake," Noelle said, cutting him off before he could say a word.

Raiden shrugged.

"I suppose that's fair—getting a taste of my own medicine. I was the one who made you a wager first."

She turned to him with an unreadable look. "Just so we're clear—I don't care if you live or die. Ash is already well cared for."

Though she spoke of Ash as if she were mere property to be fought over, her words planted a seed of worry in Raiden's mind. What would happen to his familiar if he died before she did?

He descended toward the field to meet Zion. He had no intention of dying, so worry seemed pointless. While winning had its appeal, it wasn't worth his life. If the fight became too much, he'd forfeit without hesitation.

As soon as he stepped onto the field, he found Zion waiting—calm, hands tucked casually in his pockets, golden aura rippling gently around him.

"Night fights go unrecorded, so our little arrangement stays private…" He beckoned Raiden forward. "Don't hold back. I want everything you've got, kid."

Raiden smiled. "Getting cocky, aren't you? Let's have a little fun while we can."

Confusion rippled through the crowd. Seeing someone of Zion's stature face an unknown like Raiden should have sparked excitement, yet they kept their voices low, heads bowed, exchanging only hushed whispers. Everyone knew how this would end, Raiden included. This wasn't a fight—it was an examination.