"What happened to you?"

Azrael asked calmly.

His head tilted upward, staring at the stars already appearing in the sky.

"Lord Azrael, I am sorry for not being able to protect you, and for troubling you to take me to the hospital."

As she spoke, Azrael heard a thud on the floor behind him.

He turned back slowly toward the source of the sound.

There was nothing. Not even Clara.

His gaze dropped on instinct.

There she was, on her knees, head pressed all the way to the floor.

"Stand up," Azrael said, his tone firm.

His usual playful manner was entirely absent.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Clara begged, still on her knees.

"Clara, I went through one of the worst experiences of my life today. You do not want me venting my frustration on you. Just stand up, and if possible, leave me alone and bring my food to me later."

Silence fell between them, the kind that felt louder than any noise.

Then Azrael exhaled loudly before he turned away and began walking toward the main palace.

Clara remained rooted in place, speechless, shocked, and unable to move.

She had never seen Azrael speak like that.

Even though they had only been together for two days, it was enough to learn about Azrael’s personality for a person of her level.

Her eyes trailed his retreating figure as it faded into the darkness of the night.

A strange feeling began to stir in her chest as his words replayed in her mind.

’I have failed my Lord,’ she thought, a single tear dropping from her eye.

She rose slowly and made her way toward the palace kitchen.

In that moment, a quiet resolve took root in Clara’s mind. She would protect Azrael for as long as she lived.

Azrael strode through the long hallway of the palace, eyes fixed ahead.

Unlike before, he did not acknowledge the maids who bowed as he passed.

The illusion, though most of its effects had been cleared by the receptionist, still left traces in the corners of his mind.

He reached his door quickly.

He was always alone in this wing of the palace, even though it was meant to house the heirs and the Patriarch. They were almost always on the battlefield, rarely spending enough time in the estate to make their presence felt.

A soft click echoed through the silence as Azrael’s hand pressed against the door knob.

The door opened with a creak.

He stepped inside and pushed it shut behind him.

He did not bother locking it. He knew Clara would be coming with food soon.

Azrael pulled his clothes off quickly and stepped into the bathroom.

The soft sound of water hitting tiles broke the silence for a stretch before going quiet again.

He stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist.

A knock came from the door at that exact moment.

"I am coming," Azrael replied, unhurried despite everything.

He knew Clara would not dare enter without permission.

He walked to his wardrobe, pulled out a set of clothes, and changed.

"Come in," he said as he settled at the edge of his bed.

The door clicked open and Clara pushed a trolley inside.

She glanced at Azrael sitting at the bed’s edge, then curtsied.

"Good evening, Lord Azrael," she said, unfolding the trolley into a table.

Azrael nodded in response, then pulled the table closer.

"You can leave now," he said.

He picked up a spoon and began eating.

Clara bowed lightly and left.

The door shut softly behind her.

Azrael raised his head briefly from his food, then returned to it.

A few minutes later, he was done.

"Clara," he called gently.

She walked in almost immediately, as if she had been waiting just outside.

She extended the table back into its trolley form and rolled it out.

The door closed quietly.

Azrael sat in silence for a moment, his expression blank.

Then he spoke.

"System."

The system flickered to life in his vision.

"Why did you not warn me that I was in an illusion?" Azrael asked calmly.

The system was quiet for a moment.

[Because telling you would have put you at ease, and you would not have found the drive you needed.]

Azrael was about to respond when the system continued.

[Seriously, why are you even asking about this when your teacher already explained the entire purpose of the illusion?]

An eye rolling emoji appeared on the screen.

Azrael sighed.

"Then why did you briefly appear during it?"

[You were slandering me.]

"You could not hold out until I was finished?" Azrael asked.

[No.]

Azrael shook his head at the system’s pettiness.

[You still have rewards you have not used. Why are you taking them one at a time?]

"Seems like you genuinely enjoy watching me suffer," Azrael sighed.

The system said nothing.

"Which ones are left?"

[The core advancement potion and the tier two advancement potion.]

Azrael looked over the remaining items.

"I could use both today, I suppose," he shrugged. "But what is the difference between them? They look the same to me."

[The tier two advancement potion will either advance you directly to tier two once consumed, or grant you essence comparable to a tier two cultivator.]

"That is fairly self explanatory," Azrael muttered.

[Then you should already know what the other one does, Mr. Encyclopedia.]

"Just tell me."

[The core advancement potion increases the grade of your core. In your case, it would upgrade your Mythic grade core to an Infernal grade one.]

Azrael did not speak immediately.

But after a moment, he thought about it. This was a system capable of granting him the racial trait of another species without any difficulty. An Infernal core was not out of reach for something like that.

[You are finally beginning to understand my capabilities.]

"You need to remember that you are a guide, not the power itself."

[Truly, thank you for that. Very helpful.]

A teary emoji flashed on the screen.

"Psychopathic weirdo," Azrael muttered, shaking his head.