Echo 5 – Through the Veins of Night. [12.0. Scarlet Requiem] – 𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

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This story contains some intense moments, and readers should be aware of the following potential triggers and content:

Violence and Threats of Violence: There are scenes where characters engage in physical confrontations, including threats of harm, knife fights, and moments where characters hold blades dangerously close to each other’s throats. Some scenes may be unsettling or intense.
Foul Language: The dialogue includes strong language and curse words, with some characters using coarse, aggressive speech throughout the story.
Psychological Tension and Manipulation: There are moments where the characters engage in mind games and subtle manipulation, creating a sense of emotional intensity and psychological pressure.
Alcohol Consumption: Characters drink alcohol throughout the story, with some instances of excessive drinking and references to rum and wine.
Themes of Identity and Deception: A significant plot element involves a character grappling with issues of identity, deception, and the revealing of a hidden truth, which could be uncomfortable for some readers.
Emotional Tension Between Characters: There is a tense and sometimes antagonistic relationship between the characters, marked by sarcasm, mocking, and simmering distrust.
Unresolved Conflict: The narrative involves moments of conflict that remain unresolved, contributing to an ongoing sense of unease and suspense.
Psychological Themes: The story explores themes of mental instability, madness, and the psychological toll of power and contracts. Characters wrestle with internal struggles, and the narrative reflects dark psychological states that may be unsettling for sensitive readers.
Toxic Masculinity and Machismo: There are elements of toxic masculinity portrayed in the behavior and attitudes of certain characters. This includes overt displays of dominance, bravado, and reckless behavior, which could be triggering for some readers.
Aggressive and Intimidating Behavior: The characters in the story display aggressive, confrontational behavior, particularly during the fight scenes, where physical and verbal intimidation are employed.
Emotional Manipulation: The psychological manipulation of characters, especially in moments of tension, may be present, where one character pushes another’s emotional limits as part of the psychological struggle.
Dark Humor and Intense Situations: The characters often use dark humor and sarcasm to deal with grim or serious situations, including the occasional mocking of violence and death.
Threats of Harm and Intimidation: There are verbal threats and challenges involving physical violence, and characters engage in aggressive behavior, including intimidation and the implied risk of severe harm.
Mentions of Past Trauma and Death: The story alludes to prior violent incidents that have left lasting emotional scars on characters, contributing to an overall atmosphere of danger and discomfort.
Mentions of exploitation and ruthlessness: Some characters engage in exploitative behaviors and display a lack of empathy or compassion for others.
Mild Body Horror – Some descriptions may be unsettling due to the nature of the physical dares or the characters’ reactions to high-risk actions.
Alcohol Abuse and Recklessness – There are several scenes featuring excessive alcohol consumption, where characters drink large quantities of alcohol in reckless and potentially harmful ways.
Explicit Substance Use – The consumption of strong, potentially lethal substances like high-proof alcohol is depicted in several scenes, with characters drinking to extreme levels.
Moral Dilemmas – The story includes questions and dares that force characters to confront moral boundaries, making them choose between loyalty, power, and survival in brutal ways.
Sexual Innuendo and Suggestions – There are moments of suggestive language, particularly involving one character’s comment about a potential “date,” implying an undercurrent of sexual tension.

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Status: Draft #1

Last Edited: November 26, 2024

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The door to Archduke Light Valor’s office crashed open with a force that made even the massive oak door shudder on its hinges. The room, typically a well-organized sanctuary of power and discipline, was suddenly filled with the chaos of the outside world. The subordinates in the room jumped, their brows furrowing in frustration as they scrambled to their feet.

“By the gods, Captain Kingston! What in the hells—” one of the men began to protest, but his words were drowned out by the unmistakable sound of boots thudding against the stone floor.

Captain Knox Kingston swaggered into the room, a grin spreading across his rugged face as he took in the sight of the office. He was a mountain of muscle, dressed in a loose shirt that was just tight enough to highlight the strength beneath, his skin marked by scars of battles long past. His blue hair, wild and unkempt, matched the defiant gleam in his emerald green eyes. A pirate captain to his core, he seemed to have little respect for authority—or for anyone else, really.

His piercing gaze scanned the room with disdain, taking note of the stiff, nervous posture of the Archduke’s subordinates.

“Oi, what is this? A bloody church service? Get outta here, you bunch of bootlickers,” he sneered, waving a hand dismissively at the men who quickly shrank back, trying not to meet his gaze. Knox was many things, but diplomatic was not one of them. “Light’s too busy ‘fiddling with his papers’ to even show his ol’ mate some hospitality. Well, ain’t that a fine treat!”

Without missing a beat, Knox strode up to the desk with his characteristic arrogance, placing his large, calloused hand on the wooden surface with a thud that sent several loose papers scattering into the air.

Light Valor, sitting behind the desk with his back straight, didn’t flinch. His expression remained the same—cold, calm, emotionless. His piercing red eyes barely flickered up from the papers he was reading. The man exuded an air of dangerous composure, like a predator pretending to be a statue. He didn’t even look up as he spoke, his voice smooth and controlled.

“I’m busy, Knox,” he said, his words as heavy as iron. “I’m fixing things. You’re wasting my time.”

Knox scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Fixin’ things? More like brooding in here like a damn hermit. You couldn’t even be bothered to show your face at the harbor when I arrived. Instead, you sent some lackey to tell me you were busy. Busy? Really, Light? You’re avoiding me, and you’re makin’ it real obvious.”

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Knox began to pace around the office, his boots echoing off the stone floors. He glanced at the shelves of scrolls and expensive-looking books, then eyed the bottles of aged wine behind a nearby cabinet. His grin widened as he walked over and pulled one down, making a show of uncorking it with exaggerated flair.

He poured himself a generous amount of the dark liquid, not even sparing a glance at Light as he sank into the chair in front of his desk. He didn’t offer the Archduke any drink, of course. He didn’t share with anyone—least of all with Light, who, despite being his best friend, had a reputation for being a stoic, no-nonsense sort of bastard.

“Y’know, I don’t get it,” Knox continued as he swirled the wine in his glass, taking a long, dramatic sip. He looked back at Light with a shit-eating grin. “We’ve been friends for how long, and here you are, sittin’ all prim and proper like a damn statue while I’m out there gettin’ attacked by every damn sea creature known to man. And you couldn’t even make time to see me when I docked! I should be celebratin’ my bloody safe arrival with a welcome feast! But nooo… instead, I get a cold shoulder and a messenger boy.”

Light’s calm gaze never wavered as he folded his hands neatly on the desk, leaning back slightly. His voice was flat, but there was a hint of something almost like humor hidden in the coldness. “You’re here now, aren’t you?” he replied, though the underlying tone was clearly one of irritation. “Why waste time on trivialities when there’s real work to be done? You’re not here for pleasantries, are you?”

Knox snorted, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms behind his head, the wine sloshing around in his glass. “Pleasantries? Ha! I’m here ‘cause I’m bored, Light. Haven’t seen my best mate in too long, and you’ve got me sittin’ here like some stray dog beggin’ for a scrap of attention. So, come on—what’s the deal? You’re makin’ me work for it, huh?”

Light finally looked up at him, the coldness in his eyes sharpening for a brief moment. He took a slow breath, then relaxed once more, his gaze flicking to the papers in front of him. “There are matters of more importance than whatever nonsense you’re prattling about.” His voice was icy, like a winter breeze. “I’m dealing with the Empire’s problems. You’re… here. Enjoy your drink, but don’t expect me to entertain you.”

Knox leaned forward, eyes glinting mischievously. “More important than me, huh? You sure about that, Light? You sure you’re not just makin’ excuses? What’s the real reason, eh? You scared of somethin’?”

Light’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing. He wasn’t one for these kinds of games, and yet Knox—damn him—always found a way to drag him into it.

Knox chuckled, taking another long sip of wine and settling back in his chair. “I swear, you’re a bloody mystery. But hey, I get it. You’re always so damn serious about everything. Always the grim bastard. But if you need help with any of this ‘Empire fixin’ stuff’, just say the word. I’ll be your man.” He gave Light a cheeky wink, then added, “Just don’t expect me to start playin’ politics or wearin’ those stuffy suits you love so much.”

Light’s lips twitched, but the smile never quite made it. “I’ll keep that in mind, Knox,” he muttered. But they both knew, in that moment, that Light would never ask for help.

Knox smirked to himself, content to stay in the tension of their silent understanding. He had already won, as far as he was concerned.

“Alright, then. Enjoy the rest of your bloody papers, Light. I’ll be in the corner, waitin’ for ya to stop being so damn uptight.” With that, he leaned back in his chair and took another swig of the rum, the deep burn of alcohol igniting his insides.

The office, for a moment, was filled only with the sound of Knox’s contented drinking and Light’s ever-stoic silence.

Both men knew that nothing would ever change between them. They were best friends, after all. Best friends who could clash and laugh and mock each other, yet still, somehow, find a way to trust one another.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the only thing worth having in a world like theirs.

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The moment was deceptively calm, filled only by the low murmur of shifting papers and the occasional creak of the old wooden floor beneath Light Valor’s boots. But then, without warning, the air snapped with tension.

Knox Kingston moved faster than a viper, launching himself from his chair, a flash of steel cutting the space between them. He wasn’t aiming to kill—at least, not immediately—but the intent was clear: the pirate captain wasn’t one to back down, even from a man like Light Valor.

His knife flashed in the dim light, sharp and lethal. But Light was faster. In one fluid motion, his hand shot out, his own blade—a wickedly curved, deadly weapon—appearing in his grip as if it had always been there, ready to defend him. The two blades collided with a sound like thunder, their tips locked in a deadly embrace.

For a long, suspended moment, the two men stood locked, their faces inches apart, each one silently measuring the other. Knox’s emerald eyes gleamed with mischief as he smiled, a grin that never quite reached the cold emptiness of his gaze.

“Who are you?” Knox’s voice was low, dangerous, but laced with mockery. “This Light Valor might have fooled everyone else, but you don’t fool me, mate. Who the hell are you, really?” His laugh was a sharp, mocking bark, the pirate’s confidence unwavering. He’d known Light too long to be intimidated by this.

Light’s red eyes narrowed, his grip on the hilt of his blade tightening ever so slightly. There was no hesitation in him as he kept the weapon poised against Knox’s throat, the blade so close it could pierce the skin with the slightest movement. He could feel the tension build in the air between them, but Light didn’t move an inch. He wasn’t afraid. He never was.

“You’re still too naive, Knox,” Light murmured, his voice cold, calculating. “You think you know me? You don’t.”

Knox chuckled again, the sound like the clash of waves against jagged rocks. “Oh, don’t I? I know exactly what you’re about, Light. You’re not fooling anyone. Hell, even the body is here. Can’t fake that, can you?” He paused, leaning in, eyes gleaming with an unsettling familiarity. “But you’re not him, are you? Not really.”

For a moment, the air seemed to freeze. The world outside the room stopped moving as if the very earth held its breath. Light’s gaze hardened, the icy fury flashing behind his eyes. His blade remained steady, the edge still perilously close to Knox’s throat. For a moment, there was only silence—the type that presses into your chest and makes you feel like you’re suffocating.

Knox wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from someone like Light. He leaned closer, his lips curling in a cruel grin. “So, you’re a damn imposter, huh? This is all some damn game, and you’re just playing dress-up with the body of a dead man, huh? Light Valor my ass.” He sneered, taunting. “But you can’t fool me, mate.”

Light’s hand trembled slightly—a rare moment of uncertainty. His gaze hardened, his decision made. There was no killing here. Not today. Not yet. Not unless he had no choice.

“Don’t forget who’s the strongest here,” Light said, his voice as cold as steel. His blade remained pressed against Knox’s throat, but now it was a warning. A threat. The barest amount of pressure, and Knox would be bleeding out on the floor before he even knew what happened.

Knox’s smirk didn’t waver. He was still grinning like a damn maniac, but a flicker of something darker, almost like understanding, passed in his eyes. He raised his hands slowly, as if surrendering. The humor never left his voice, but there was a trace of something else beneath it. Something dangerous. Something that knew he was playing with fire.

“Alright, alright, mate,” he said, leaning back in his chair as Light withdrew his blade with a slow, controlled motion. “I get it. You’re the big bad Archduke now. You wanna flex that power, huh?” Knox’s grin widened as he flopped back in his chair, taking a deep swig of rum, his pirate accent thick and thickening with every word. “But I’m still gonna make your life hell. You know that, right?”

Light sighed, his shoulders stiffening in a way that suggested a mix of frustration and resignation. “I have other matters to deal with. I can’t be bothered to entertain your nonsense, Knox,” he muttered, pushing his papers aside and picking up his quill, resuming his work as though the near-death experience hadn’t just occurred.

Knox didn’t let the tension slide that easily. “So, what’s your name, huh? You know, since you’re not the real Light Valor, it’d be nice to know who the hell I’m dealing with.” He swirled his drink lazily, watching Light closely, as if studying him for a reaction.

Light didn’t even glance up from his papers. He wasn’t interested in playing Knox’s games. But the pirate wasn’t going to let it go so easily.

“Deon,” Light said at last, his voice barely a whisper in the otherwise tense room. The name dropped like a stone in a still pond, reverberating through the room with unexpected weight. “Deon.”

Knox blinked, his cocky demeanor faltering for the briefest of moments. “Deon, huh?” he mused, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, that’s a bit of a twist. Didn’t see that coming.” He leaned back in his chair, laughing loudly, but the sound was tinged with something darker. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. I’m definitely gonna keep messin’ with you, mate. Gotta get some entertainment out of this.”

Light didn’t answer. He was back to his work, his focus absolute. But there was a sharpness to his eyes now, a razor’s edge of calculation behind every movement.

Knox took another drink, grinning like the devil himself. “You know, Light—or should I say, Deon?—you’re a real piece of work.” He paused, eyeing the Archduke as if the thought amused him. “But it’s fine, mate. I’m not here for small talk. You can go back to whatever ridiculous plan you’ve got in that head of yours. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you. Ever.”

Light said nothing, his pen scratching furiously against the paper, as if he were writing his own fate into existence with each stroke. Knox’s voice continued to ring out, but it no longer mattered. It was just noise, like the constant slap of waves against a ship’s hull.

Knox might have been annoying, relentless, and completely unpredictable, but that was just how it worked between them. Nothing ever changed. They both understood that.

And so, as Knox continued to drink and chat with his usual brash tone, Light remained silent, ever aloof, ever calculating, preparing for whatever would come next—because in a world like theirs, it was only a matter of time before everything exploded again.

And when it did, Knox would be right there, laughing as if it were all just another game.

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Light closed the manuscript with a sharp snap, his fingers momentarily pressing into the edges of the paper as if he could feel the weight of the words lingering in the air. The room felt suffocating, heavy with the silence that only he could bear. His gaze flicked toward the door, and with a quiet command, he spoke with the cold precision that was so characteristic of him now.

“Spar.”

It was more of an order than a request, and the simple word sliced through the stillness like a blade through silk. Without waiting for any more acknowledgment, Light stood, his expression as unreadable as ever. The crisp sound of his boots against the stone floor echoed briefly before he walked toward the training grounds, his movements calculated and effortless.

Behind him, Knox Kingston didn’t hesitate. He chuckled to himself, his voice booming in contrast to the quiet of Light’s demeanor.

“So, what’s with the new, uh, quiet act, mate?” Knox’s voice was thick with his pirate accent, as usual, like the guttural rasp of an old shipwreck that’s seen far too many storms. “The old Light Valor was a bit more… chatty, eh? You’d think a man who’s always a step away from insanity might like to talk a bit more, eh?”

Light snorted coldly but didn’t turn back. The sharp sound of the snort was all the answer Knox needed. It wasn’t a reaction of anger—Light’s emotions were a carefully controlled fortress—but it was a response. Knox’s grin widened as he caught up, matching the pace effortlessly.

“Trivial,” Light muttered under his breath, his tone flat but deliberate. “The disguise is perfect, to me.” He didn’t elaborate further, but the words held a strange finality in them. Knox’s grin faded just a touch, but it never fully disappeared. He knew better than to push, but curiosity gnawed at him like a dog with a bone.

Knox tilted his head, rolling the idea over in his mind, before laughing loudly, the sound reverberating through the hallways. “Aye, mate, perfect disguise, sure.” He let the silence drag on a little longer, the smile never quite leaving his face. “But you know, don’t you? You’re not fooling me, not even for a second.”

Light didn’t respond, but the faintest flicker in his eyes betrayed the thoughtfulness behind his impassive exterior. Knox was smart. Too smart for his own good sometimes.

“And how exactly are you so sure, Knox?” Light’s voice remained unflinching, though there was a slight edge to it now. “What is it about me that gives it away?”

The pirate’s gaze sharpened, though he didn’t stop his boisterous banter. “You’re quieter than a damn ghost, mate. And you’re not just staying quiet for the fun of it. It’s like… something’s off. Something’s different, deeper than just the usual ‘stoic’ nonsense. You’re—what’s the word—harder, y’know?”

Light’s lips twisted ever so slightly into a thin line, his stoic expression barely shifting, but his eyes flickered with something darker for the briefest of moments. A flash of something that made Knox’s grin falter, just for an instant.

“Madness,” Light finally said, the word as casual as any other. The answer was short and clipped, but it resonated heavily. “That’s your theory, isn’t it? Madness.”

Knox stopped walking, eyes wide as he let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Bloody hell, I was only half-joking, but… you’re spot on.” His voice softened, no longer mocking, but genuinely curious. “How’d you figure that out, mate? Been getting a bit too cozy in that insane little head of yours, eh?”

Light glanced over at him, his expression unreadable. “It’s not something to figure out. It’s something to survive.”

The tension in the air shifted, growing thicker. Knox’s usual bravado faltered for a second as he processed what Light had said. He took a long drag from his flask, trying to mask the seriousness of the moment with another drink, but the pirate’s gaze was locked on the other man, waiting for more.

“So, what’s the deal, eh?” Knox asked, this time quieter, his usual pirate swagger slipping away just for a moment. “Did you find a cure for it? You know, the madness?”

Light didn’t answer immediately. His steps didn’t falter, but the air around him felt denser now. The silence between them stretched for a long beat, the only sound the muted clatter of boots on stone.

“No,” Light said at last, his voice a soft murmur. “It’s incurable. A contract. A fair exchange.”

Knox’s eyes darkened just a fraction, his expression unreadable. “A contract, huh?” he repeated, the words thick with understanding. “What price did you pay for that, mate?”

Light didn’t look at him, didn’t pause as he reached the doors to the training grounds. “Power.”

Knox let the word sit in the air for a moment. His lips pulled into a twisted, almost rueful smile as he followed Light through the door, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly in the expansive room.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Knox muttered under his breath. “You are a mess, aren’t you? But a damn impressive one. You’ve always been able to handle it better than the rest of us, haven’t you?”

Light didn’t respond, but as the two men stepped into the open air of the training grounds, the distance between them shrunk as their eyes locked in a brief, sharp exchange.

The training grounds were vast, a barren expanse where the sounds of sword and steel rang out like music to a warrior’s ears. It was an arena for the best to clash, a place where even the most perfect of warriors could be shattered by the wrong move. Knox didn’t hesitate as he pulled a sword from the rack, its steel gleaming in the sunlight.

“You ready to really spar, mate?” Knox called out with a wink. “Or are you just gonna stand there and look all moody?”

Light’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile that was gone before it fully formed. “Let’s see if you can keep up,” he replied, drawing his own weapon with a swift motion.

The sparring match that ensued was anything but ordinary. The air hummed with tension, the clashing of steel ringing out with each movement, each swing. Knox’s boisterous laughter rang out as he danced around Light’s calculated strikes, his movements quick, unpredictable—just like the pirate himself.

But Light, silent and controlled, moved with the grace of a predator. Every movement was purposeful, every step measured. He didn’t waste energy. He didn’t need to. And when their blades met, it was with the weight of a thousand unspoken words, the fury of battles fought in silence.

Knox’s grins only grew wider with each strike, the pirate delighting in the challenge, in the chaos.

But for Light, it was nothing more than another fight, another day. The madness simmered beneath the surface, but it didn’t control him. Not today. Not yet. The game wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Knox’s voice rang out one more time as they broke apart, laughing louder than ever.

“I’ll admit it, mate,” Knox called, twirling his sword. “You’re a hell of a lot more fun to spar with now. Didn’t think that madness thing would work so well for ya!”

Light simply nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow, his gaze already shifting back to his next move, his next target.

It was just another fight. Another day.

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The clang of steel echoed across the training grounds, a chorus of violence and power that sent shivers through the spines of the onlookers. The crew of Captain Knox Kingston and the subordinates of Archduke Valor watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they beheld the spectacle.

Knox Kingston’s emerald eyes glinted with excitement, his lips curling into a grin as he swung his sword with the ferocity of a storm. The heavy sabre in his grip hummed through the air, cutting at the space where Light Valor stood, the only sound more thunderous than the impact of metal on metal being Knox’s laugh.

“C’mon, Light! I thought you were supposed to be a maniac! Show me what you’ve got, eh?” Knox’s voice rang out with a roguish mockery, his stance wide and proud, as though daring Light to tear him apart.

Light, the stoic embodiment of controlled rage, met his every strike with precision. His long, black sword—a blade forged for a man like him, cold and unyielding—whipped through the air in a seamless arc, parrying and countering without hesitation. His gaze, unblinking, never faltered.

“Are you trying?” Light’s voice was barely a whisper amidst the clash of swords, but it was a challenge nonetheless. His body moved with an uncanny grace, sidestepping Knox’s savage assault as if he could see the pirate’s every move before it happened. It wasn’t that Knox was slow—quite the opposite—but Light’s movements were deliberate, calculated, as if he were studying the pirate with each swing of his blade.

Knox’s laughter was a deep, guttural sound that resonated with every swipe of his sabre. He launched into another brutal attack, swinging his sword in a wide arc, aiming for Light’s midsection.

But Light was already there, stepping into the attack with eerie calm, his blade flashing as he deflected the sabre with a perfect flick of his wrist. The force of Knox’s strike was strong, but Light’s response was an effortless glide, as if he were a shadow passing through a blade of grass.

“Is that all?” Light’s tone was almost bored, his voice laced with mockery. “Come now, Knox. Don’t tell me you’re holding back.”

“Oh, you bet I am, mate,” Knox retorted with a grin, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Can’t kill you yet—not when you’ve still got so much potential left to annoy the hell outta me.”

The clash of their blades continued, each strike ringing out like the crack of a whip, each movement leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Their footwork was a blur—two warriors, each as deadly as the other, testing each other’s strength, speed, and precision. Sparks flew as steel met steel, and the sound of the blows was deafening.

The subordinates watching the spectacle couldn’t even keep up with the movement, their eyes struggling to follow the deadly dance unfolding before them. Their mouths hung open as they tried to comprehend what they were witnessing.

“How… how are they moving like that?” one of the Archduke’s men muttered, eyes wide in disbelief as he tried to track the fight. “I can barely see them!”

“It’s like watching lightning strike, but you can’t even blink,” one of Knox’s crew members chimed in, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to focus.

The two combatants continued to trade blows, each one faster, sharper, more intense than the last. Knox’s sabre was a blur of motion, slicing through the air with deadly precision, each strike aimed to cleave through Light’s defenses. But Light, with his cold, unyielding expression, dodged, deflected, and parried with a calmness that bordered on eerie.

One moment, Knox lunged forward, a wild attack aimed at Light’s shoulder, the edge of his sabre glinting as it cut through the air. Light twisted, dropping low into a crouch, and in one fluid motion, he slashed his blade upward, deflecting Knox’s attack with a satisfying clang.

Knox grinned, unfazed by the miss. “Better, Light! Much better! What happened to that old edge you used to have? You slacking off, mate?”

Light’s eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening. “Hardly,” he replied, his tone cold and detached. “I’m just figuring out what you’re still holding back.”

In the span of a single heartbeat, the two combatants closed the distance between them. Knox, with his brutal pirate strength, swung his sabre in a savage arc, aiming for Light’s throat. But Light was already there, stepping inside the range of the attack, his blade whistling as it cut through the space between them.

The clash was deafening as Knox’s sabre scraped against the edge of Light’s sword, sending a shower of sparks into the air. In a blur of motion, Light shifted his weight, twisting and redirecting Knox’s strike, sending the pirate stumbling back a step.

“I’d say ‘nice try,’ but that’s beneath you,” Light commented with a dry, biting tone.

Knox laughed again, shaking his head as he regained his footing. “Ahh, I missed that.”

The two fighters paused for a split second, their blades still locked in the air as they sized each other up. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through with a knife, but neither man appeared to be sweating. It was a casual spar, but it felt as though both were dancing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between casual mockery and deadly seriousness.

“You know, Light,” Knox said casually, taking another swig from his flask as if nothing had happened, “I gotta admit. I think I’m startin’ to like this version of you. You’re calm, composed—eerily calm, mate. What’s the secret, eh?”

Light’s lips curled up into a slight smirk. “It’s called not being you.”

Knox raised an eyebrow, the laugh that followed full of dark amusement. “Ahh, touche, my friend. But we both know what the real reason is, don’t we?”

For the briefest moment, their eyes locked, and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Knox lowered his sword, taking a step back as he let the moment stretch out, his grin widening. “Yeah, yeah, I know. We’re both too damn good for our own good. But I gotta say, mate—you really are just testing me now, aren’t you?”

Light’s eyes glinted in return. “Testing you? I’m just getting started.”

The crew and subordinates continued to watch, utterly awestruck, as the fight raged on, each strike carrying the weight of years of friendship, each block a silent understanding of the other’s strength. Despite the bloodlust simmering between them, neither man was truly trying to kill the other. No, they were simply pushing each other, testing the boundaries of their power, their abilities—each one eager to see just how far the other could go before they broke.

Knox’s next strike came in fast, like a ship cutting through the waves. It was brutal, reckless, and full of power. Light’s response was smooth, like water sliding over stone, as he twisted around the strike, letting the sabre pass harmlessly by as he countered with a swift, slicing motion that forced Knox to leap back.

The two men stood there, breathing evenly, their gazes locked. And despite the devastation around them—the destruction they’d caused without even trying—the quiet understanding remained. They were sparring, testing, learning.

“Alright,” Knox said, shaking his head with a mock exasperated sigh. “You win, Light. This time. But next round? I’m gonna really kill ya.”

Light didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The spar had told him everything he needed to know. And with that, he turned, heading toward the exit of the training grounds, his movements slow and calculated.

Knox watched him go, still grinning, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m still friends with you, mate,” he muttered to himself, before turning back to his crew.

“Who’s up for a drink?”

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The dining hall of the Dukedom was a blend of grandiose and grim, as opulent chandeliers hung overhead, casting a warm light on the gathered crowd below. The long wooden table groaned under the weight of food and drink—legs of lamb, roasted vegetables, massive pitchers of wine, and platters piled high with bread and cheese. The air was thick with the aroma of hearty feasts and the unmistakable scent of strong liquor.

Despite the feast laid out before them, Light Valor sat at the far end of the table, his shoulders tense, his posture rigid. He didn’t speak a word as his plate remained untouched, his only movement the occasional sip of water, his gaze never straying from the flickering candle on the table. His mind, however, was elsewhere. Work, plans, strategy—it was all swirling in the cold recesses of his mind, far from the mirthful chatter around him.

Knox Kingston, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of noise and energy, his loud laughter cutting through the air like a blade. He was in his element—surrounded by his crew, cracking jokes, teasing Light, and generally causing a ruckus. His booming voice was like thunder in the hall as he regaled his subordinates with stories from his travels, adding flourish and flair to every tale.

“So then I says to him, ‘That’s not a parrot, that’s my cousin—’”

A round of hearty laughter broke out from his crew, and Knox slapped the back of the nearest pirate, grinning like a wolf.

“You gotta love this guy,” one of the crew members said, raising a mug in Knox’s direction. “Captain’s always got the best stories!”

Meanwhile, the Archduke’s subordinates sat at the other end of the table, exchanging looks that ranged from bewildered amusement to outright confusion. They’d seen Knox’s antics before, of course—how could anyone in the Empire not know the infamous Captain Kingston? But they weren’t used to seeing him interact so casually with their stoic, brooding master.

“Is he always like this?” one of them whispered to his colleague, eyeing the pirate captain.

The other man leaned in slightly, trying to be discreet. “I… don’t even know. But I’ve never seen Archduke Light let anyone drag him into anything. And here he is, stuck at a dinner, barely speaking, while the pirate—what is he, a damn wind-up toy?”

They both glanced over at Knox, who was still talking animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands as he recounted some tall tale. He was drinking, laughing, clearly enjoying himself. His subordinates were all listening intently, hanging on his every word, as if he were some kind of legend. But Light, despite his larger-than-life presence, was silent, cold as ever.

“So, what do you think of them?” The first subordinate asked.

The second man squinted at the pair. “Think about who? Kingston or Valor?”

“Both,” the first man replied, eyeing them with something like intrigue. “I mean, they’re… what, best friends, right?”

The second man chuckled darkly. “Best friends? Well, I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use for them.” He raised an eyebrow. “More like… two soldiers who’ve been through hell together. You saw that sparring match earlier, right? That wasn’t just friendly training. That was a damn near murder attempt.”

The first man winced. “Right. I’ve never seen someone move that fast, let alone two people who seem to want to kill each other while laughing about it.”

A pause settled between them as they both glanced across the table at Light, who was once again staring into his untouched glass of water, his eyes far away.

“He’s terrifying,” the second man muttered, his voice lowered as he leaned toward his colleague. “Even I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”

The first man nodded. “That’s for sure. Look at him, though—he hardly says a word. And when he does, it’s always cold, detached… like he’s above everyone in the room.”

“I thought he was supposed to be diplomatic?” The second man let out a dry chuckle. “Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Across from them, Knox’s voice boomed once more, his pirate accent so thick that it could cut through the tension in the room like a blade.

“—so there I was, stuck on an island with nothing but a dagger, a bottle of rum, and a map to a treasure that didn’t even exist! But I swear, mate, that didn’t stop me! I got that treasure in the end, and it wasn’t a chest of gold—it was a lesson!”

The crew roared with laughter, but the subordinates of Archduke Light Valor just exchanged uneasy glances.

One of them spoke up, voice tinged with apprehension. “Isn’t it weird how he… drags Light around? He doesn’t seem to respect boundaries.”

The second man shrugged. “Knox doesn’t give a damn about boundaries. But here’s the kicker—Light lets him. He’s probably the only one who can.”

Both men turned to look at Knox again, who was now leaning across the table toward Light with a grin that was positively devilish.

“Oi, Light! How about a toast, mate? You’ve been sitting there all quiet like a bloody statue! Come on, let’s have a drink! For old time’s sake!”

Light’s eyes flicked to Knox for just a moment before he leaned back in his chair, his fingers gently tapping the edge of his glass.

“No,” Light said simply, voice devoid of any emotion.

Knox raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Aww, come on, Light! You’ve got to live a little! No fun being all… stiff, right?”

The Archduke didn’t respond, his gaze returning to the table in front of him, and the tension in the room thickened. Knox, however, wasn’t discouraged. He was used to this by now—Light’s aloofness, his impenetrable demeanor.

“Heh, you always were a hard one to crack, mate,” Knox muttered, then turned his attention back to the subordinates, who had been listening to the exchange in stunned silence. “Alright, lads! You know what they say—if you can’t get the man to drink, drink in his honor!”

The room erupted in a roar of laughter as Knox lifted his mug high, the crew following suit, each one shouting their own variation of a toast. The subordinates were quieter, exchanging bemused looks. They were used to Light’s stoicism, but this… this was something different.

“What do you think’s going on in that guy’s head?” one of the subordinates murmured, watching Light as he continued to sip his water in silence.

“I don’t know, but I’m starting to think he’s a different kind of monster,” the second man said quietly, shaking his head. “I’ve seen him fight, seen him command, seen him destroy things with nothing but his presence. But now, I’m wondering if his mind is even more dangerous than his sword.”

The first man chuckled darkly. “Yeah, and it’s probably because he doesn’t care about anything except getting the job done.”

The conversation died down as they all glanced back at the two men at the head of the table—Light, silent and brooding, and Knox, the very picture of charisma and chaos. The contrast between them was as sharp as the swords they carried.

“Best friends…” one of the subordinates muttered under his breath.

“Yeah,” the second man replied, his voice soft with a hint of disbelief. “And that’s the scariest part.”

═════════════════

The dining hall was alive with a strange atmosphere—half chaos, half uneasy silence—as the two very different factions sat side by side, attempting to make the best of a situation that had none of the charm of a normal dinner party. On one end of the long table sat the subordinates of Archduke Light Valor, their posture straight, their eyes sharp, their conversation low and restrained. These were men and women who had seen blood and war, who had weathered the darkest storms in service to their Duke. They were a quiet bunch, but they emanated a palpable, cold professionalism.

On the other end, the crew of Captain Knox Kingston, the infamous pirate captain of the Blood Pearl, was entirely different. A raucous bunch of ruthless scoundrels, laughing loud and often, their pirate accents thick and untamed. Even the term “scoundrel” barely encapsulated them—they were merciless, bloodthirsty, and infamous across the seas, but right now, they were relaxed. They seemed to feel right at home, just as comfortable with the formal decor of the Dukedom’s dining hall as they would be on the creaking, salt-soaked decks of their ship.

Knox, of course, was at the center of it all. His broad shoulders were hunched over, leaning casually toward Light Valor, the Archduke himself, who sat next to him like a rock in a storm, completely unmoved by the chaos around him. Knox’s voice cut through the noise, deep and lively, punctuated by bursts of laughter and rapid-fire insults. He was relaxed, but his voice still carried authority, and he didn’t hesitate to push Light’s boundaries.

“Oi, Light!” Knox slapped the Archduke on the back, so hard that the force of it rattled the table. “Why you always so stiff, mate? You know, I’m starting to think you’re just as cold as that damn ocean, but colder! Not even a little smile for your ol’ friend?”

Light didn’t flinch. His face was a mask of indifference, though his eyes flickered toward Knox for a fraction of a second before returning to the untouched glass of water in front of him. He had been trying to stay out of it, quietly enduring the chaos. He hated social gatherings. Hated the noise, the crowds, the constant, forced politeness. But Knox had dragged him here, and now, he was stuck.

“No,” Light said simply, his voice cold, his tone sharp as a sword.

Knox laughed, leaning back in his chair, a wide grin on his face, eyes glinting with mischief. “What’s wrong with ya, Light? Been drinkin’ that water too long? Might wanna try somethin’ stronger before I really start gettin’ on your nerves!” He gestured to the nearest pirate, a hulking man named Jax, who immediately shoved a bottle of rum toward Knox.

The crew roared with laughter, but the subordinates of Light Valor sat stiffly, their gazes flicking between the two men. It was an odd sight—the deadly, aloof Archduke and the pirate captain, both sitting side by side, the contrast between them enough to make the air thick with tension. Despite the laughter coming from Knox’s crew, there was something unnatural about the way they all seemed to relax around the pirate. They were ruthless, no doubt, but when it came to the captain, there was an almost unsettling ease.

One of Light’s subordinates, a man with short-cropped hair and eyes that rarely blinked, leaned toward another quietly.

“Is this… normal for them?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, though he kept his eyes on the two men at the center of the table.

His companion, an older woman with a scar crossing her cheek, glanced over at Knox and Light, then back at the room, her gaze flickering between the pirates and their commander. “For them? It’s… not normal. But it’s something. Unnatural for sure.” She sighed, casting a look at the crew. “I’ve never seen them this relaxed around anyone, least of all him.”

The younger man frowned. “You’re saying the Captain can do that to him? Light Valor, the Archduke?”

“Seems so,” the woman replied. “Last time I saw anyone try to touch the Archduke, he ended up a bloody mess.” Her voice dropped lower. “Who knows how many men he’s killed in his lifetime just for stepping into his personal space.”

They both glanced over at Knox and Light. The pirate captain, as boisterous as ever, was once again leaning over the table, grinning at Light like he’d just won some bet.

“Don’t make me do it, Light,” Knox said, voice mocking, but there was a certain fondness in his tone. “I’ll keep makin’ you drink until you break!”

Light’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he simply took another sip of his water, ignoring Knox’s antics.

“It’s strange,” the young subordinate muttered, looking back at the conversation. “I’ve been with the Archduke for years, and I’ve never seen him let anyone get away with this. Not even once. Yet here, with Kingston, it’s like nothing matters. I can’t even tell what’s going through the man’s head.”

The woman next to him chuckled, a low, dry sound. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? Light Valor doesn’t let anyone in. But he lets Kingston get away with it.”

One of the pirates, overhearing, snorted with laughter. “Ha! We all let the Captain get away with it, mate. The man’s got a damn gift for makin’ you forget you’re an enemy until you’re already laughin’ at his bloody jokes.”

The younger man exchanged a look with his companion, then whispered, “And the Archduke just… lets him?”

The older woman leaned back in her chair, swirling the wine in her glass. “Light Valor is many things. A cold, brutal leader, a man of few words. But he’s not a fool. He knows exactly who he’s dealing with. And if anyone can get close to him, it’s Knox.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Knox was doing what he did best—annoying the hell out of Light, though he did so with an ease that suggested they’d done this dance a thousand times before.

“Oi, Light, lighten up, mate!” Knox chuckled. “You might be the deadliest bastard in the room, but I’m the one who knows how to have a good time!” He reached over and grabbed Light’s wrist, pulling his hand toward the mug of rum, despite the Archduke’s expression darkening.

“Knox,” Light said coldly, his voice dropping to a warning tone, “If you—”

“I know, I know,” Knox interrupted with a laugh, “You’ll make me regret it.” He lifted the mug and took a swig, shooting Light a devilish grin. “But this is what friends are for, ain’t it?”

The pirates erupted into another round of boisterous laughter, even as Light let out a long, drawn-out sigh, shaking his head. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this one. At least not until Knox was satisfied.

The strange camaraderie between the pirate captain and the cold, calculating Archduke remained the subject of whispers and confused stares from their subordinates. But to Knox and Light, it was simply the way things were—weird as hell, but it worked. And as much as they both pretended not to care, deep down, they knew there was nothing that could break their bond.

═════════════════

The air in the dining hall grew louder as Knox, always the loudest voice in the room, leaned back in his chair with a triumphant laugh. He threw an arm around Light’s broad shoulders, pulling the Archduke closer, despite the obvious cold glare the other man shot him. It was the sort of look that had a lesser man thinking twice, but not Knox. No, Knox thrived on that glare, the sharpness in those icy eyes, the kind of challenge only someone like Light could present.

“Alright, Light, enough of this brooding, mate!” Knox chuckled, swishing his mug of rum as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “We’re makin’ this party lively, whether ya like it or not.” He grinned wide, clearly pleased with himself as he squeezed Light’s shoulder just a little tighter.

Light, already looking like he was about to sink into his own seat to escape the situation, didn’t even flinch. His expression, if anything, hardened. He didn’t pull away, didn’t push Knox off. He just stayed there—silently brooding, irritated by the constant contact but far too tired to do anything about it.

“Knox,” Light growled low, but it was barely more than a whisper, “Touch me again and I’ll make you regret it.”

“Oh ho! You hear that, boys?” Knox roared with laughter, raising his free hand and giving a dramatic wink to the entire room. “Light here’s still threatenin’ me! I’d love to see him try—hehe!” He finished his drink in a swift gulp, wiping his mouth and slapping Light’s shoulder once more, just for good measure. “But c’mon, mate, it’s all in good fun. The party needs livin’ up, aye? We’ve all been drinkin’ like a bunch o’ landlubbers, and now’s the time to make it interesting!”

Light, with a heavy sigh and a resigned scowl, didn’t argue. He simply let his gaze flicker to the table as if considering leaving, but he knew better. Knox would drag him back in no matter what. It was the pirate way.

The subordinates of Light Valor, the stoic, disciplined warriors who had been trained in the art of battle and patience, were watching with wide eyes, exchanging bewildered glances. This? This was not normal. Their Duke—the cold, calculating, and unapproachable Archduke—was now the object of Knox Kingston’s affection? And Light didn’t even push him away?

One of the younger men, an officer who had only recently joined Light’s ranks, leaned toward the older, battle-hardened woman beside him, both of them still staring in disbelief at the sight of their usually impervious leader being handled so… casually.

“Is this… normal?” the young man asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if afraid of being caught even acknowledging the oddity.

The woman shook her head, her lips pressed in a thin line. “No. Never. Not in a million years. The last time someone touched Light—he—” she paused, looking uncomfortable as she recalled the grisly result. “It didn’t end well for them.”

The younger man’s eyes widened. “So… what’s going on here?”

“Friendship,” the woman said dryly, glancing back at the two men. “Some strange, twisted version of it.” She couldn’t help but shake her head. “Knox Kingston… that pirate has some sort of hold over our Duke, and I can’t quite figure out how or why.”

But the truth was, even they had to admit it—there was something different about the way Knox and Light interacted. There was a rough, brutal camaraderie between them that neither could fully understand. Light might glare, might threaten to tear Knox’s hand off, but in the end, he just tolerated it. He didn’t push the pirate away. And that was… unsettling.

And now, Knox was grinning like the devil himself as he began listing off games to play, his voice growing louder, more animated.

“Alright, mates! Here’s what we’re doin’!” Knox raised his mug for emphasis, making a grand gesture as he looked around the room, letting his eyes wander over his crew and Light’s subordinates. “We’re gonna spice things up! None o’ that stiff noble dinner nonsense. I’ll tell ya what, Light and I are gonna show ya how to really have a good time. The Captain’s rules, aye?”

Light, who had been trying his best to ignore him, finally lifted his gaze. His eyes, normally so distant, cold, and sharp, flickered with annoyance. He didn’t respond to Knox’s words, but the tightening of his jaw said it all. He was done with this.

“Oh, come on now, Light, don’t be like that!” Knox boomed, his accent thick and his grin widening. “You gotta join in the fun, mate. It’s a requirement for the leaders to play. Set an example, aye? You can’t just sit there and look like you’re in a bloody funeral—lighten up! You’re the damn Archduke, for cryin’ out loud. Have some fun for once!”

The subordinates, still watching with wide eyes, couldn’t help but exchange looks of disbelief. Light Valor, the deadly, feared Archduke of the Crimson Empire, was actually letting himself be dragged into a game? By Knox Kingston, of all people?

A tense silence followed, broken only by the sound of clinking mugs and the occasional laugh from the pirate crew. Knox didn’t wait for Light’s approval. He wasn’t asking, he was telling.

Light said nothing, his lips pressed together in a thin line, but his gaze moved from the pirates to his own men. They were all watching him. Expecting him to say something. And yet… he didn’t.

A long pause stretched between them before Light finally sighed. It was a soft exhale, barely audible over the noise. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice cold but resigned. “Pick the game.”

Knox’s eyes gleamed with delight. “Aye! That’s the spirit, mate!”

As Knox began outlining the various games—everything from arm wrestling to something called “pillage the chest,” which, honestly, sounded dangerous—Light didn’t respond. He simply leaned back, his eyes scanning the room as his subordinates whispered amongst themselves, still trying to grasp the absurdity of the scene unfolding before them.

One of the older pirates, a burly woman with a scar cutting through her lip, elbowed her comrade and whispered, “Is this really happening?”

Her partner, a wiry man with a thick beard, just chuckled and shrugged. “You tell me. But I’ve seen Knox do worse—Light’ll survive. He’s made of tougher stuff than most, aye?”

“I still don’t understand how this works,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’ve seen Knox flay a man alive, but here he is, treating Light like his best mate… And Light’s just… letting it happen.”

“Best mates do weird stuff, I guess,” the man responded, raising his mug with a grin. “Now let’s see if the Duke’s up for a game of ‘Pillage the Chest’—that’s bound to be interesting.”

Light’s gaze flickered toward Knox, who was busy explaining the rules of the game to everyone. This… was a nightmare.

═════════════════

The room buzzed with low murmurs and confused glances, eyes darting between Knox, the man they all knew to be a bloodthirsty pirate captain, and the Archduke, who was sitting silently, brooding in his own corner, the cold water in front of him untouched by anything stronger. The Duke was playing a game. A game.

And not just any game, but a ridiculous one Knox had somehow convinced him to join.

“Alright, listen up!” Knox boomed, his voice bouncing off the stone walls of the dining hall. “Gather ‘round, ye scallywags, ye noble landlubbers, ye salty dogs—’bout to teach ya the best bloody game on this side o’ the seas!” He slapped his hands together, making a loud noise that silenced even the most nervous whispers. “The game’s called ‘Pillage the Chest,’ aye? And it’s simple. Real simple. Ya take turns tryin’ to get the treasure, but there’s a catch—ain’t no treasure in that chest unless ye can fight yer way to it!”

He laughed at his own words, swirling his mug of rum in one hand, clearly enjoying the dramatic build-up. “Now, let me lay it out for ya.” He pointed a finger to the chest sitting in the middle of the room, a large, ornate thing with iron locks and brass handles. “That chest there’s got some nice loot. Gold. Jewels. Maybe even a few fancy trinkets I nabbed from a few ships, eh?” His grin stretched wider as the crew and subordinates leaned in, captivated by the notion of treasure.

Light, still sitting at the table like a statue, didn’t even glance at the chest. His lips barely twitched. His eyes were fixed on the surface of his water glass, his fingers lightly tracing the rim. He wasn’t going to play. He didn’t want to play. But, of course, it didn’t matter. Knox was like a child with a new toy—there was no way he was getting out of this.

“Ye’ve got to get to the chest and unlock it—simple, right? But here’s where it gets interesting,” Knox continued, his voice lowering dramatically. “Ya gotta fight each other for it. No havin’ a chat and politely askin’ if ye can open the damn thing. Nah. We do things pirate-style!” His grin was wicked, gleaming with the promise of mayhem. “Best man wins. Or the most ruthless—aye?”

Some of the pirates at the table were already laughing, their eyes dancing with excitement. The subordinates, however, exchanged wary looks, their hands hovering near their weapons, clearly not quite sure what they were getting into.

“What happens if we don’t fight?” One of Light’s men, a tall, burly man with a scar on his face, spoke up. He was clearly not used to games involving violence—games where life and death could sometimes be part of the stakes.

Knox gave him a playful wink, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “Ah, well, then ye might as well just walk away, ‘cause that chest? It won’t open unless ye fight fer it. The rules are simple: blood, sweat, or tears.” He chuckled. “If ya can’t handle that… well, the chest will stay locked, and ye’ll go back to yer room cryin’, thinkin’ ‘bout yer wasted time.”

His eyes turned to Light, whose posture hadn’t changed at all, still stone-faced and silent, his brooding presence casting an almost palpable shadow across the room. “Right, Light? Ye sure don’t mind doin’ somethin’ bloody for fun?”

Light didn’t even look up. He muttered only one word. “No.”

But Knox was already setting the rules into motion, as if Light hadn’t even spoken. “Aye! That’s the spirit! Now, we’ll start the game—ye get yer turn to try and open the chest. All ye need is to try yer hardest! But, just a fair warning, the more ye get beat down, the less ye get to do, aye?”

He gave a dramatic pause as he stared over at his own crew, and then at Light’s stoic subordinates, some of whom were already hesitating. Knox noticed this and shot them a cheeky smile. “Don’t get too nervous, lads! Ain’t no one here gonna die. Well, not unless ye really piss Light off, aye?”

Light didn’t even flinch at the mention of his name, and no one dared to look at him for too long. The tension in the room was enough to cut through, thick and suffocating. They all had a feeling that, if Light really wanted to, he could kill anyone in this room in an instant. Even Knox, who’d been his closest friend for years, was under that cold weight.

Knox, never one to let the room linger too long in silence, slapped the table with his hand, shaking the dishes and making everyone jump. “Right, let’s start then! Who’s first?!”

A pirate, a rugged man with a patch over one eye, stood up with a grin, drawing a wicked blade from his belt. “I’ll take the first swing at it, Captain!”

The pirate made a show of cracking his knuckles and walking toward the chest, but before he could even touch the lock, Light’s cold voice rang out.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Everyone in the room paused. Even Knox stopped mid-laugh, turning his head slowly to look at Light, who finally, for the first time that evening, lifted his gaze from his water glass. His tone was cold, as if this whole thing were beneath him.

Knox raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, clearly intrigued. “Aye, aye, what’s that, Light? You gonna stop me from playin’ with me crew? Where’s the fun in that?”

Light didn’t move, didn’t even shift in his chair. “I’m not stopping you.” His eyes were still deadpan, and his voice was almost a growl. “But the chest won’t open. No matter what you do.”

The pirate who had stepped up, the one who had been so eager to take the first turn, blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, it won’t open?”

Knox leaned forward with a grin, his hand clasped tightly around his mug, eyes glittering with mischief. “Aye, ye heard him right. If ye can’t handle the blood, then it stays locked. Just the way it is, lads.”

The pirate looked at Light, his eyes narrowing. “So, what? We’ve got to bleed for the treasure?”

Light didn’t answer. He simply reached for his water and took another long, deliberate sip, his gaze never leaving the table.

The subordinates exchanged nervous glances, still not entirely sure if this was a joke or if they were really about to go all-out in some ridiculous game for treasure.

“Well,” Knox said, drawing out the word with a laugh, “I reckon we’ve had enough talkin’. Let’s get this party started, eh?” He slapped the table again, more forcefully this time. “Let the game begin!”

Light didn’t flinch. He didn’t even bother standing up. He just sat there, resigned to the madness unfolding around him, watching as Knox reveled in his chaotic fun.

As Knox began handing out roles and organizing teams, Light’s subordinates continued to stare, more confused than ever. There was no turning back now.

═════════════════

“Do not worry about the damages.”

The words cut through the murmur of confusion and surprise like a knife, and for a moment, the room was dead silent. People blinked, looked at each other, and then—somehow—the atmosphere shifted. A spark of excitement glinted in the eyes of the pirates and the subordinates alike. It was on.

Light had spoken, albeit coldly, but that was all the permission anyone needed. The Archduke—who usually watched every action in the room with a detached gaze, his temper a slow burn waiting to ignite—had given the green light for chaos. As if on cue, the pirates whooped with glee, while the subordinates exchanged surprised glances before begrudgingly cracking their knuckles and readying their weapons.

Knox, perched lazily beside Light with one arm slung around his shoulders, looked unreasonably pleased with himself. “Ye heard ‘im right, mates! No stoppin’ us now!” He laughed, as though Light’s word was a treasure chest filled with the richest plunder.

Light only glared at him, icy eyes narrowing as Knox continued to invade his personal space. If there was a sound to describe Light’s mood, it was that of a hundred swords scraping against each other in the most unpleasant way. Yet, for all the irritability rolling off him in waves, he did nothing to push Knox away. He just let it happen, because that was how it always went between them.

“Oi!” Knox shouted, slapping the table again to draw attention. “We’ll be havin’ a good ol’ fashioned competition, eh? Pirates against the Duke’s finest! Last team standin’ gets the loot! But first, gotta figure out who’s on which side!”

Light didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His cold stare was more than enough. Knox, ever the loud and boisterous one, took it upon himself to gather teams, moving around with more energy than a man who’d just eaten a whole roasted boar.

“Alright! We’re doin’ this the pirate way,” Knox announced, his thick accent making the words sound even more outlandish than usual. “Every team’s gonna have to fight fer the chest, but ye gotta outsmart yer opponents first. No mere brute strength—use yer wits, yer trickery, yer chaos, aye? That’s how pirates win!”

He slapped a pirate on the back with a thud that nearly knocked the man off his feet, before rounding up the rest of the players.

“Subordinates, get yer swords ready!” The pirate grinned, already lurching forward to grab one of the weapons from a nearby rack. “We’re gonna make this interesting, aye?”

The first round kicked off with an unexpected burst of energy, as pirates and subordinates mixed together in teams, charging at each other with fierce grins and wild battle cries.

One team, composed of a few pirate bruisers and a couple of Light’s more brawny subordinates, squared off against another pair of pirates and a well-dressed diplomat from the Duke’s side. At first, it looked like the pirates would trample them. They were burly, grinning maniacs, clearly enjoying the chaos of the fight.

The first clash of swords rang out as the two sides collided. A pirate slashed his blade, but the Duke’s subordinate, a tall man with a long, dark braid, parried with the smooth grace of a practiced fighter. They locked swords for a second, eyes locked in a brief moment of mutual understanding: this wasn’t about honor, it was about survival. The pirate yanked his blade back with a feral grin, aiming for the man’s ribs, only to have the subordinate sidestep and slam his knee into the pirate’s stomach.

“Ahh, ye missed! Try again, ye great idiot!” the pirate laughed, his voice thick with glee. “Yer gonna need a lot more than that to get past me, mate!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the field, two of Light’s more strategic subordinates—a lanky, sharp-eyed man and a quiet woman with a knife at her waist—teamed up against a couple of pirates who were twice their size. They were completely silent, barely breaking a sweat as they evaded every slash and stab. The lanky man ducked under a wild swing from the largest pirate, then darted forward, delivering a quick strike to the pirate’s side that sent the man stumbling back with a yelp.

The woman grinned, her sharp features lighting up as she sidestepped another pirate’s lunge, kicking him straight in the knee. The man collapsed with a grunt, clutching his leg. “You’ll need better footwork than that to keep up with me,” she remarked dryly.

The pirate cursed under his breath, and from the sidelines, Knox watched all this with a loud belly laugh.

“Aye, that’s the spirit! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he bellowed, ignoring the fact that his voice was so loud it made the entire room wince. “Look at ‘em go, Light! Ain’t it fun? Blood and bone flyin’ everywhere—just the way I like it!”

Light’s eyes flicked briefly to Knox, his cold expression betraying nothing but indifference. His lips barely moved when he spoke, voice a low mutter.

“I’ll never understand your enjoyment of senseless violence.”

“Ha! That’s ‘cause ye ain’t a pirate, mate!” Knox shot back, throwing an arm around Light’s shoulders in a familiar, possessive manner. “We live for chaos! Ye need that in yer life, aye? A little bit o’ madness to spice things up!”

Light said nothing in response, his attention once again turning to the game unfolding before him. He leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his water as his subordinates and Knox’s crew tore into each other. It was as if his indifference was a shield, keeping him untouched by the absurdity of the situation, even if he was forced to endure it.

But Knox? Knox was another story. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his excitement spilling out of him in every direction. “Ha! Look at this lad here! Tryin’ to take on three of my best men, and he’s barely breakin’ a sweat! What’s the matter, mate?” He yelled at one of the pirates, who was struggling against one of Light’s subordinates. “Get in there! Don’t let ‘em show ye up, ya lily-livered fool!”

The pirate cursed, pushed back, but grinned all the same, taking the challenge to heart.

All around them, the chaos swirled. Swords clanged, men grunted, and laughter and curses filled the air as the teams fought and played. The goal was simple: outlast the other teams, get to the chest, and claim the prize, all while avoiding serious injuries (for now).

Through it all, Light remained silent, brooding, his gaze cold and sharp, but he didn’t interfere. Not even when Knox leaned in close again, nudging him with his elbow and whispering, “What do ye think, Light? Is this more fun than sittin’ at yer desk?”

Light glared, his voice barely a whisper. “Still stupid.”

But even as the game raged on, and the sound of clashing blades and wild laughter echoed through the room, Light knew one thing: this was what Knox lived for. And for some reason, Light couldn’t help but stay. Even if it meant watching this madness unfold, step by step. Even if it was all just a game, it was their game.

And somehow, he was still part of it.

═════════════════

The game had come to an unexpected close, with the final team triumphing in a way that no one saw coming. A pair of pirates and two subordinates from Light’s team, who had fought like demons and danced around their opponents with grace and power, emerged victorious. They stood amidst the broken wreckage of the field, weapons in hand, panting but grinning like madmen.

“Ha!” Knox yelled, slapping his hands together. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! That was a fight!” He cackled loudly, making the walls shake with his laughter. The victorious team cheered, hooted, and patted each other on the back, while others clapped, some bitter, but most just admiring the skill displayed.

Knox wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. “Aye, ye lot did well! Well bloody done! Now then—time for the real fun, aye?” He turned to Light with a mischievous grin plastered across his face, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “How ‘bout ye and me go at it? One last round! The two leaders, what do ye say, eh? Bet ye a mountain of gold, I win!”

Light didn’t even look at him, simply continuing to sip his water in silence. His posture was unnervingly calm, as always, but the air around him seemed to freeze over. Everyone else fell silent, sensing the shift in the room.

“No,” Light replied flatly, his voice like ice.

Knox’s grin faltered for just a moment. He leaned in closer, squinting at Light, as though he were trying to gauge whether he was joking. But when he saw no change in Light’s stoic expression, Knox’s grin returned full force. “Oh, come on, mate! Don’t be a spoil sport! Let’s see who’s the best, aye? Just for fun!”

Light turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Knox for the briefest of moments. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

“If you put money on the table, I’ll actually kill you,” Light said, his voice as calm and collected as ever. But there was an undeniable edge to it—a chill that ran down the spine of everyone in the room.

A collective shiver swept over the group. The subordinates exchanged nervous glances, the pirates momentarily pausing in their revelry, unsure if Light was simply making a joke. But they knew—they knew well enough that Light didn’t joke about matters like this. And Knox, the notorious pirate captain with a bloodlust as legendary as his gold hoards, knew it too.

Knox paused for a second, his face lighting up with that unmistakable joy. Then he burst into laughter, loud and raucous. “Ha! HA! That’s the Light I know!” He slapped Light hard on the back with enough force to make the man stumble slightly, but still, Light didn’t move—didn’t flinch. “Aye, you’d actually kill me, wouldn’t ye?” Knox laughed again, shaking his head, clearly delighted by the fact that his friend, the Duke of all people, had just threatened him.

“Aye, mate,” Knox continued, grinning like a madman, “we both love our riches. I live for the chaos and bloodshed, but ye, yer a money grubber through and through, aye?” He reached for his flask, taking another long swig, then held it out to Light with a wink. “But ye won’t actually kill me… not with a gold coin between us, eh? C’mon, Light, it’ll be fun!”

Light didn’t react, didn’t even acknowledge the flask. His eyes never wavered, and he went back to drinking his water with the same detached calm he had maintained the entire night.

Around them, the atmosphere was one of a strange kind of uneasy tension. The subordinates and pirates alike exchanged looks, trying to process what they were witnessing. It wasn’t just that Light had threatened to kill Knox in front of them all—it was the casual, almost bored way in which he said it. As though he could do it without blinking an eye. And yet, the way Knox laughed and kept pushing, it was clear that this strange friendship had been forged in the fire of a thousand violent, bloody moments. They were both monsters, in their own ways.

“Jeez, ye’re cold,” Knox muttered, wiping a tear from his eye. He took a long gulp from his flask, savoring it. “I love it.”

Light, as always, said nothing, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the chaos of the room. The clinking of glasses, the muffled laughter of the others, and the general rowdiness didn’t seem to faze him. But it wasn’t hard to notice that despite his calm, the tension around him was palpable. There was a deadliness there, a certain sharpness that no one dared challenge.

The room fell into an awkward silence for a moment, until one of the pirates cleared his throat and raised his glass.

“Eh, just bloody weird, isn’t it?” the pirate said, half-drunk, still eyeing the two leaders. “Two men like that—killers, scoundrels, the worst of the worst—and yet they’re… mates?”

There was a general muttering of agreement. Even the subordinates, who had grown used to their Duke’s cold demeanor, found the way he and Knox interacted a little off. It didn’t make sense. They weren’t just allies, and they weren’t simply best friends, either. There was something darker at play.

One of the subordinates—who had been quiet for most of the evening—finally spoke up, his voice low. “You think they’d actually kill each other?” He glanced at the two men, unsure whether it was a rhetorical question or not.

“No bloody doubt,” another pirate responded with a grin. “But not today. No, today they’re in a good mood, eh? They like each other… in their own twisted way.”

“Funny thing, isn’t it?” a third pirate added with a chuckle. “Two men who’d slit your throat without a second thought, and yet… here they are, actin’ like it’s a friendly game.”

It was an unsettling realization: The pirates and subordinates were more used to the violence, the chaos, the bloodshed—but this was something else entirely. Something personal.

As the conversation lingered in the air like the faintest trace of sulfur after a storm, Light’s voice cut through.

“Go ahead and enjoy the chaos. I’m done here,” he muttered. He stood up without another word, brushing past Knox, who let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Ah, ye sure, Light? I was hopin’ for a bit of a fight, aye! But I reckon we’ll let the money stay in yer pocket for now,” Knox joked loudly, grinning.

Light didn’t even turn to look at him, his only response a soft grunt as he made his way toward the door, ready to escape the madness. But even as he disappeared into the shadows, there was no denying it: in this strange, twisted world of chaos and violence, the Duke and the Pirate Captain were closer than anyone could understand. Too close.

═════════════════

The room was still, like a tense breath held just before it would explode, everyone watching the exchange with rapt attention. Light had already turned away, heading for the door, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, looking for a way out of this chaos. But Knox, with his ever-present grin and that spark of mischief in his eyes, knew just the thing to drag him back.

“Aye, Light!” Knox called out, his voice carrying over the stillness of the room like a challenge thrown down. “I got somethin’ that’ll make even you come back for another round!” He held up something in his hand, something that sparkled faintly even in the dim light of the room. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder as they tried to make out what it was.

It wasn’t just any treasure—it was the treasure. A gleaming jewel, encased in gold, with strange markings running through it, pulsing with an aura that made everyone’s breath catch. It looked ancient, valuable—something that would make even the hardest of hearts pause.

Knox’s eyes sparkled, his lips curling into a devilish grin as he dangled it before Light’s cold gaze. “This here… is a once-in-a-lifetime treasure, mate,” he said, his thick pirate accent dripping with relish. “I’ve had me eyes on it for weeks, and now it’s mine. But I reckon, if ye want it, ye’ll have to beat me fair and square in a game, eh?”

The room held its breath, and Light stopped mid-step, his back to the door. His eyes narrowed, flicking to the treasure in Knox’s hand.

“You’ve come prepared,” Light muttered, his voice a quiet, cold observation.

Knox laughed loudly, slapping his thigh. “Aye, ye know me too well, Light. I’ve been planning this for ages. Ye’ve always been a greedy bastard when it comes to treasure,” he added, smirking at the Archduke. “I can’t say I didn’t bring it just for ye, mate.”

Light didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. His face remained cold, aloof—nothing more than a highborn lord in the midst of his own empire. But those violet eyes, burning with quiet intensity, turned back toward Knox. And the way he flicked his fingers was like the snap of a whip.

Without a word, the butlers and servants sprang into action, moving like clockwork. In mere seconds, the dining area was cleared and reset: the tables were pushed aside, the leftover food cleared away, and a large game table was laid out in the center of the room. More luxurious drinks were brought out, elegant dishes set before the guests, and comfortable seating was arranged—everything meticulously clean, efficient, and professional.

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Light, the Archduke of the Crimson Empire, prepared for the game. The air had shifted, thick with anticipation.

Light, who was known to be the very epitome of aristocratic distance, the cold, untouchable duke who walked through life as though everyone else was beneath him—he was the one who had just agreed to play. And now, as the servants finished their preparations, the subordinates exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn’t like Light. Not at all.

But there was something in the way he moved now, an unspoken seriousness that sent a ripple of tension through the crowd.

With a swift, fluid motion, Light stepped towards the game table. His coat, long and imposing, fluttered slightly as he shrugged it off. It was left behind on the chair like a royal cape, a symbol of his power, discarded for the moment, as his hands moved to roll up his sleeves—exposing his muscular arms to the room. The room seemed to hold its breath, watching as his broad shoulders, toned from years of training, rippled beneath his fitted shirt.

Light brushed his short, black hair back from his forehead, his violet eyes—those unsettling, piercing eyes with their intricate patterns—glinted with a cold fire. For the first time that night, he looked completely alive. His aloof, distant demeanor was gone. The Duke was gone. In his place was the focused, determined man who would not stop until he had what he wanted. The very air around him seemed to freeze, like the quiet before a storm.

Knox grinned like a devil, sitting back in his chair, casual and relaxed, his feet kicked up on the edge of the table. He took a long swig from his flask, sloshing the contents around. “Well, well, well, looks like ye actually took the bait, eh?” he said, his voice laced with amusement, his thick pirate accent rolling off his words like waves crashing against the shore. “Can’t say I’m not bloody surprised. I thought ye were too good for a simple game, Light. But ye’ve got a thing for treasure, eh? I knew it.”

Light didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing, his fingers flexing as he readied himself for whatever Knox had planned.

Knox chuckled darkly. “So, ye gonna play or what, mate? Or are ye just gonna sit there lookin’ pretty and broody like usual?” He swirled his flask in his hand, not in the least intimidated by Light’s sudden seriousness.

“I’m not here for your games,” Light replied flatly, his voice even, emotionless.

Knox leaned in closer, his grin widening. “Aye, ye are now, mate. We both know it. Ye want that treasure, don’t ye? I’ve heard stories ‘bout yer taste for trinkets. So, what’ll it be? Game on, or ye just gonna run away like a little pussy?” He spat the word with glee, taunting the man who was already known as the deadliest predator in the room.

Light’s lips twitched, his violet eyes gleaming dangerously. “I’ll win. You will lose, Knox.” His voice was low, cold, and when he spoke, there was no doubt in his words. It wasn’t a challenge—it was a statement.

Knox’s face lit up with laughter, his entire body shaking with it. “Aye, I bloody well know, Light. I bloody well know,” he said between bursts of chuckles, “but let’s see who’s the real greedy bastard, eh?”

As they began to prepare for the game, the tension in the room was thick, the guests muttering among themselves. Knox, the ruthless pirate captain who lived for chaos and bloodshed, and Light, the cold, calculating Archduke, the ruler of the Crimson Empire—they were both dangerous. But what made them more dangerous than anything else was that they were friends—or something like it.

The rest of the room could only watch in silence, unsure what to expect next. It was a bizarre, twisted game they were about to witness—a game not just for treasure, but for pride, for power, and for the sheer thrill of it all. And no one knew who would walk away the victor.

But everyone knew one thing for sure: It was going to be a hell of a show.

═════════════════

The room froze at Light’s calm declaration.

“If I lose,” the Archduke said with chilling composure, “you will be given detailed instructions on how to bypass the Imperial Palace’s defenses. For your… heist.”

A ripple of shock shot through his subordinates. Whispers broke out like waves crashing against rocks.

“The Imperial Palace?” one whispered incredulously.

“That’s treason!” hissed another, his voice barely audible.

“Why does he even know that?”

Knox, however, burst into a roaring laugh, slapping the table hard enough to make the plates jump. “Aye, now that’s what I call stakes! Bloody hell, mate, ye’ve got some guts to throw somethin’ like that on the table!”

Light wasn’t done. He added, with the same cold, calculated tone, “You may also select one item from my personal vault.”

The reaction to this was even more dramatic.

“The vault?”

“The vault?!”

“Isn’t that thing practically a legend?”

Knox’s grin grew impossibly wider, his gold tooth gleaming in the light. “Oh, Light, mate, ye sure know how to spoil a pirate. Yer vault’s damn near a bloody dragon’s hoard, innit? I’ve heard stories—half the treasures in there could buy kingdoms! And yer lettin’ me choose anything?”

Light inclined his head slightly, his expression unmoved. “If you win.”

Knox whistled, leaning back in his chair like a king surveying his court. “Right, then! If that’s the stakes, we’re gonna need a proper setup for this. Oi!” He gestured to the butlers, who stood nearby, stiff and professional despite the chaos unfolding. “Bring me yer heaviest, finest, and rarest bottles o’ alcohol. All of it. And none o’ that common swill—bring me the good stuff. Thousand-year-old wines, imported rums, vodkas, whiskies—ye know the drill. The kind o’ liquor even the Imperial family’s too cheap to drink!”

The butlers exchanged brief, knowing glances, before bowing in unison. They moved with practiced efficiency, vanishing and returning within moments, their arms laden with bottles of dazzling variety.

The crowd gawked as the table filled with treasures of the liquid kind—crystal decanters holding amber liquors that shimmered like molten gold, wine bottles sealed with wax older than some of the guests’ bloodlines, and ornate glass jugs filled with spirits so rare their names were whispered like secrets.

Knox eyed the growing pile with an approving nod. “That’s more like it! Now, this is a setup worthy of the stakes.”

One of Light’s subordinates couldn’t contain himself. “Doesn’t the Archduke hate drinking?” he muttered to his neighbor, who shrugged helplessly.

“How much money does he even have?” another whispered, voice tinged with awe and disbelief.

“I mean, we knew he was rich, but this? This is ridiculous.”

Light, as always, remained unaffected by the murmurs, calmly seated with his hands steepled before him, his violet eyes cool and detached. His subordinates might have been panicking, but this level of opulence was simply routine for him.

Knox poured himself a generous helping of one of the finer rums and took a hearty swig before slamming the glass down on the table. “Alright, mates, here’s the game: truth or dare—but not that childish shite ye played as kids. No, this is Truth or Dare: Deathwish Edition. The rules are simple. Ye get a choice: answer the question, take the dare, or drink. But let me make one thing bloody clear.” His grin turned wicked, and his tone dropped, menacing and conspiratorial. “Ye best not lie, and ye best not half-ass the dare. If ye do, well…” He gestured to the crowd of pirates and soldiers, many of whom smirked darkly in understanding. “We’ve got ways o’ makin’ sure ye pay fer it. And aye, they’re nasty.”

The room erupted in cheers and nervous laughter, the tension lightening just enough to let the chaos begin.

“And what if they drink?” one of the Archduke’s more cautious subordinates asked.

Knox leaned forward, his gold tooth catching the light as he grinned. “If ye drink, that means yer chickenin’ out, don’t it? So, the stronger the drink, the bigger the punishment fer the next round. Simple as that!”

Light arched a brow, his sharp features as unyielding as stone. “Your games never fail to lack elegance,” he said flatly.

Knox cackled, clapping him on the back—earning a glare that could freeze a man solid. “Aye, and yet ye’re still here, ain’t ye? Come on, mate, loosen up. It’s a party!”

Light said nothing, instead flicking his gaze across the table as though calculating the quickest way to win. His subordinates exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring amongst themselves about the surreal nature of the evening.

“Who goes first?” someone called out.

Knox raised his hand, already halfway through another glass of rum. “Why, me, o’ course! And me first question’s fer Light!” He turned to the Archduke with a wicked grin.

The room hushed, all eyes on the stoic duke as Knox leaned closer. “Truth or dare, mate?”

Light’s response was as icy as his gaze. “You’ll have to try harder than that to intimidate me, Knox.”

The pirate captain roared with laughter, slapping the table. “Aye, this is gonna be good!”

═════════════════

The room fell silent, the weight of anticipation thick in the air as Knox leaned forward, his grin sharklike. “Well, mate, what’s it gonna be? Truth or dare?”

Without missing a beat, Light spoke, his tone cold enough to frost glass. “Dare.”

The crowd erupted in a mixture of shocked gasps and rowdy cheers. Light’s subordinates exchanged uneasy glances, while Knox’s crew whooped and hollered, raising their glasses in approval.

Knox’s gold-toothed smile widened. “Ah, startin’ strong, eh? Good. Wouldn’t expect any less from ye. Alright then, let’s see…” He leaned back, stroking his chin theatrically before pointing a finger at Light. “I dare ye… to pierce an apple dead center with a dagger—while blindfolded—and while someone’s holdin’ it. No missin’, no grazin’. Dead. Center.”

A collective inhale swept through the crowd. One of Light’s subordinates visibly paled. “That’s insane,” he whispered.

Knox grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “And the one holdin’ it’ll be one o’ yer own men. Make it interesting, aye?”

The room erupted again, half in horror, half in exhilaration. But Light didn’t flinch.

“Fine,” he said simply, his voice devoid of any emotion as he rose from his chair.

Knox slapped the table in delight. “Now we’re talkin’! Someone fetch an apple! And one o’ ye brave sods step up—no, don’t all volunteer at once!”

The Archduke’s men exchanged terrified glances before one of the younger knights stepped forward, his face as pale as parchment. He stood rigid as the butlers hurriedly placed an apple in his trembling hand.

Light removed his coat with calm precision, handing it to a butler. He rolled up his sleeves, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he unsheathed a sleek, wickedly sharp dagger.

A pirate tossed over a blindfold with a laugh. “Good luck, mate! Yer Duke’s got an arm like a cannon—hope ye don’t need that hand o’ yers after this!”

The knight holding the apple visibly gulped but stayed silent. Light tied the blindfold over his eyes, the black silk stark against his pale skin. He tested the weight of the dagger in his hand, his posture relaxed yet lethal.

“Ready,” Light said coldly.

The room hushed, the only sound the faint clink of glasses and the shuffle of boots. Light took a single step forward, his head tilting slightly as if calculating the exact location of the apple. Then, without warning, his arm moved in a blur, the dagger slicing through the air.

A thwack echoed through the hall.

When the knight opened his eyes, the apple was pinned to the wall behind him, split perfectly down the middle, the dagger embedded so deeply the hilt quivered.

The crowd exploded into cheers and stunned laughter.

“By the gods…” one of the knights breathed.

“Dead center. He actually did it,” a pirate said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Knox laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair, pounding the table with a fist. “Bloody brilliant, mate! I knew ye had it in ye!”

Light removed the blindfold, his face as expressionless as ever, and returned to his seat. “Your turn,” he said, his violet eyes glinting with a dangerous light.

Knox wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning. “Aye, aye, I’m game. Dare, o’ course. Let’s see if ye can outdo yerself.”

Light’s gaze narrowed slightly, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow colder. “I dare you,” he began, his voice calm and cutting, “to walk across the banquet table barefoot—on top of the plates. Without breaking a single one. And if you fall or fail, you forfeit all your winnings.”

The pirates burst into laughter, while the Archduke’s men stared in disbelief.

“Bloody hell,” one pirate muttered, grinning. “That’s downright evil.”

“A dare?” one knight scoffed. “That’s impossible!”

Knox, however, only laughed louder. “Yer a cruel bastard, Light, but I like yer style!” He stood, downing his glass in one swig before kicking off his boots. “Alright, lads, clear the plates! I ain’t losin’ me winnings to this miser!”

The butlers, horrified but efficient, quickly reset the table, leaving it an intimidating stretch of polished wood laden with delicate porcelain.

Knox stepped up onto a chair, his bare feet stark against the lavish setting. He grinned down at Light, who watched him with an unblinking stare.

“Alright, mate,” Knox said, balancing his first foot on the table. “Let’s see if this pirate’s got the grace of a ballerina!”

He took a careful step, the table creaking faintly under his weight. The first plate wobbled but didn’t break.

The room collectively held its breath as Knox began his precarious journey, muttering curses under his breath every time a plate shifted.

Halfway across, one pirate yelled, “Don’t trip, Cap’n! Yer dignity’s at stake!”

“Dignity?” Knox shot back, his voice tinged with strain. “What bloody dignity?”

Against all odds, Knox made it to the end of the table without a single plate breaking. He hopped down, raising his arms in triumph.

The room erupted into cheers and laughter, pirates and knights alike clapping and hollering.

Light simply raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Impressive. Barely.”

Knox clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “Aye, admit it, mate—I’m the better man.”

“Hardly,” Light replied, his tone flat. “Shall we continue?”

Knox laughed. “Aye, but don’t think I’ll go easy on ye!”

The game was far from over.

═════════════════

The game continued to teeter on the edge of insanity, drawing gasps and laughter from the gathered pirates and knights alike. When the next round fell to Light, he leaned back in his chair, his violet eyes sharp and calculating.

“Truth,” he said coldly, his tone final, as if daring anyone to challenge the weight of his decision.

Knox’s grin spread wide, gold tooth glinting. “Well, well, aren’t we feelin’ brave, eh? Alright then, mate, let’s see…” He stroked his beard theatrically, drawing out the moment. “Tell me the one treasure—the one bloody thing—ye’d trade yer entire vault for.”

The room went dead silent.

One of Light’s knights whispered, “He wouldn’t…”

A pirate chimed in, voice dripping with disbelief, “Doesn’t even seem possible fer him to have a treasure like that!”

But Light’s expression didn’t waver. He didn’t flinch or hesitate. His reply was as cold as steel.

“My freedom.”

The air seemed to shatter. Knox stopped mid-swig, lowering his tankard as the weight of those words settled over everyone.

“Freedom?” Knox repeated, his pirate accent tinged with disbelief. “Ye mean… yer a bloody Archduke! What freedom d’ye not have?”

Light’s lips curled faintly—not a smile, but a ghost of one, icy and distant. “The freedom to stop,” he replied simply, each word razor-sharp.

Knox’s face flickered, a mix of understanding and something darker. But then he guffawed, slamming the table. “Well, hell, mate, if that ain’t the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard! Someone get this man another glass of water!”

The room erupted into a mix of shocked murmurs and uneasy laughter, but no one dared question the Archduke further.

Light’s turn.

Knox leaned back, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Truth, o’course,” he said with a smirk.

Light tilted his head slightly, studying Knox like a predator sizing up its prey. His voice came out low and deliberate, freezing the room once more. “Name the one person in your crew you’d leave behind to die if it meant saving your ship.”

The pirates immediately broke into loud protests.

“Cap’n would never!”

“That’s madness, even fer ye!”

“What kind of question is that?”

Knox, to his credit, didn’t flinch. Instead, he burst into a booming laugh. “Ain’t that just like ye, Light, diggin’ for the blackest answers? Fine, mate, I’ll play along.”

He glanced around the room, his sharp eyes locking briefly with each crewmember’s face. There was a long, tense silence as everyone waited for his response.

Finally, he leaned forward, the grin never leaving his face. “Easy. It’s me bloody self,” he said, slamming his fist on the table. “The Blood Pearl comes first, always.”

His crew erupted into cheers, roaring their approval.

“Aye, Cap’n!”

“Always knew he’d say that!”

“Crazy bastard!”

Light’s lips twitched ever so slightly—whether in approval or bemusement was anyone’s guess.

Knox turned to him, raising his tankard. “There’s yer answer, mate. And no, ye can’t use it against me later when I’m too drunk to steer the ship.”

Light said nothing, but his eyes glinted with a quiet respect.

The game went on, spiraling into increasingly absurd, dangerous, and outright terrifying dares and truths. Each challenge became a deadly dance between the two men, neither willing to back down, both clearly enjoying the unspoken battle for dominance.

And through it all, the knights and pirates watched in a mix of awe, horror, and reluctant camaraderie, their shared disbelief at the lengths their leaders would go to only strengthening the strange bond between them.

═════════════════

The game had devolved—or evolved, depending on who you asked—into a mix of escalating madness, unrelenting tension, and absurd feats of bravado. The truth-or-dare match between Knox and Light was no longer just entertainment; it had become a psychological battleground, a duel with stakes known only to the two participants.

Light tilted his head slightly, violet eyes glinting with cold calculation. “Truth,” he said, his tone as clipped and frosty as ever.

Knox’s grin widened, sharp and predatory. “Alright, mate,” he said, voice dripping with mischief. “Tell us what the worst thing ye’ve ever done fer power is. And don’t ye dare sugarcoat it.”

The room fell deathly silent. Even the pirates—battle-hardened scoundrels who had seen and done the unspeakable—looked uneasy. The Archduke’s knights exchanged worried glances, knowing their master’s boundaries and his propensity to enforce them with blood.

For a long moment, Light remained still, his gaze piercing through Knox as if weighing the question against his entire existence. The silence stretched so taut it felt like the air itself might snap.

Then, without a word, Light reached across the table, grabbed an ominously heavy bottle of vodka—its label boasting that it was “distilled with the fury of hellfire”—and uncorked it in a single, fluid motion.

The knights gaped. The pirates whispered frantically.

“Is he… drinkin’?”

“Thought he hated booze!”

“Bloody hell, he’ll keel over!”

Light lifted the bottle and tilted it back, pouring the contents down his throat with the precision and composure of a man drinking water. The liquid disappeared in seconds, the empty bottle landing on the table with a soft thunk.

Not a single muscle on his face twitched. His violet eyes remained sharp and cold, unfazed by the lethal dose of alcohol he had just consumed.

Knox cackled, slapping his knee. “Knew ye wouldn’t crack, but damn if that ain’t a sight! I’ll drink to that!”

The room erupted into cheers, but it was tinged with disbelief. No one, not even Knox’s hardened crew, could reconcile the image of Light Valor—a man known for his aloof detachment—with the sheer recklessness of his action.

Light’s turn.

Knox leaned back, his smirk widening. “Truth,” he declared, no hesitation.

Light didn’t even pause to think. “Which of your crew would you kill first if mutiny ever broke out?”

The pirates gasped in unison.

“No bloody way!”

“He wouldn’t!”

“Cap’n loves us too much fer that!”

Knox froze for half a second before throwing his head back and laughing uproariously. “Ah, ye bastard,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Ain’t no way I’m answerin’ that!”

He grabbed a hulking bottle of rum—his personal favorite—and ripped the cork out with his teeth. The pirates cheered as he downed it with gusto, finishing it in seconds and slamming the empty bottle onto the table.

“Don’t even look drunk,” one of the pirates muttered.

“Course not,” replied another. “It’s the Cap’n. Rum’s probably part o’ his blood by now.”

Light’s lips quirked—barely—but it was there, a faint trace of satisfaction.

Knox grinned, leaning forward. “Now, let’s spice this up, eh? New rule: If ye pull off the truth or dare, the other bloke drinks. If ye fail…” He gestured grandly at the table piled with deadly spirits. “Ye drink yer damn pride away.”

Light nodded without hesitation. “Agreed.”

The crowd buzzed with renewed excitement as the stakes rose.

Knox’s next truth was brutal: “Name the one person ye’d never trust, even with yer life on the line.”

Light completed it effortlessly with a sharp, chilling answer. Knox, to the surprise of no one, took his penalty drink with a flourish.

And so the game spiraled further, truths and dares growing increasingly unhinged and perilous. Each round was a deadly dance, a testament to their mutual respect and unyielding wills.

By the end of the night, both men were entirely sober in demeanor but had consumed enough alcohol between them to kill a dozen lesser beings. Their crew members, on the other hand, were utterly annihilated, sprawled across the room in a drunken stupor, too awed to even care.

Light stood, buttoning his coat with calm precision. “As expected,” he said coolly, glancing at Knox, “a waste of time.”

Knox barked a laugh, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Aye, mate, but admit it—ye had fun.”

Light didn’t dignify that with an answer.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The quiet of the hallway was a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind in the dining hall. Most of the crew and knights were either drunk, unconscious, or muttering nonsensical threats of revenge in their stupor. Knox, the unflappable Captain of the Blood Pearl, led Light back to his study with his usual swagger, his pirate accent now muted after the night’s exhausting festivities.

Standing before the heavy oak doors of Light’s office, Knox turned to make some quip—no doubt at Light’s expense—but stopped mid-breath when the Archduke did something wholly unexpected.

Light knelt.

The sight was so absurd it rendered Knox silent for the first time in what felt like decades. The world’s most powerful, enigmatic man, infamous for his unshakable pride and untouchable aura, was on one knee before him.

“What in the hell…” Knox muttered, brows shooting up.

Light reached for Knox’s hand, gripping it with deliberate gentleness. His touch was cold but firm, as was his nature. Without a hint of hesitation, he lifted Knox’s hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss against it.

Knox blinked. Even women, in their most desperate ploys for his favor, had never dared this level of formal deference.

Light’s violet-patterned eyes rose to meet Knox’s, but there was no humility there. They burned with calculated intensity, like a predator assessing its prey.

And then, the unthinkable: Light smiled.

It was not the kind of smile that inspired warmth or camaraderie. No, this was a glacial curve of the lips, frigid and sharp, carrying the weight of an executioner’s blade.

Knox stiffened slightly, and not out of fear. Amusement flickered in his dark eyes, though he kept his smirk subdued.

“I’m not surprised you’re another Player,” Light said, his voice low and cold, the words carrying the weight of a thousand silent conclusions.

Knox’s smirk faltered, but only for a heartbeat. “Ah, so ye figured it out, mate,” he replied, his voice dropping the familiar pirate cadence and adopting a tone much smoother, more polished.

Light’s grip on his hand tightened. It wasn’t painful, not yet, but it carried a silent warning.

“To think you’re here,” Light murmured, his tone almost contemplative. Yet there was something dangerous beneath the surface.

The Archduke leaned forward, brushing his lips against Knox’s palm with mockery that couldn’t have been more deliberate. “Yoon Ha-joon.”

Knox’s eyes widened, but only slightly. His smirk quickly returned, though it was sharper now, less playful and more calculating.

“Well, ain’t that somethin’,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Took ye long enough.”

Light stood fluidly, the movement as precise and controlled as a blade’s edge. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said coldly. “You deceived me longer than most, yes, but in the end, you slipped. That must sting, doesn’t it?”

Knox laughed, the sound rich and carefree. “Sting? Nah, mate. I’m impressed, honestly. Took a while, but you got there. Still—” His gaze swept over Light’s imposing frame, the hulking muscles and regal demeanor. “Gotta say, didn’t expect to find ye hidin’ behind that.”

Light’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes narrowed slightly. He turned and pushed open the study door, not bothering to reply to Knox’s taunt.

The office was a stark contrast to the man’s usual icy demeanor. Luxurious yet meticulously organized, every surface gleamed with polish, the furniture crafted from the rarest materials. Knox whistled low as he stepped inside, dropping into one of the armchairs with his usual swagger.

Light took his seat behind the massive desk, his movements unhurried as he leaned back and steepled his fingers. He said nothing, allowing Knox to fill the silence as he always did.

“So, what’s it like?” Knox said, grinning as he leaned forward. “Tradin’ yer scrawny, spooky little real self for this, eh? Feels good, don’t it? Bein’ all sex on legs and terrifying?”

Light’s expression remained unreadable. “Your commentary is unnecessary,” he said, though there was no bite in his tone.

Knox chuckled, kicking his boots up onto the desk. “Ah, don’t be like that. I’m just sayin’—yer real self’s a far cry from this.” He gestured broadly to Light’s sculpted form. “If I’d known ye could look like this, I’da asked Fang Dokja for a makeover myself.”

The corner of Light’s mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “Your lack of taste is as appalling as ever,” he said.

Knox laughed again, slapping his knee. “There he is! Thought I lost ye in all that broody silence. So tell me, mate, how long we gonna play this cat-and-mouse game?”

Light’s eyes glinted with something dangerous. “Until I’ve decided what to do with you,” he said smoothly.

Knox grinned, leaning back with a lazy confidence that belied the tension between them. “Fair enough, mate. Fair enough.”

═════════════════

Light sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed in the faintest irritation, as he stared across the desk at the pirate-turned-Emissary who’d decided to barge into his study without so much as a formal request. Knox, sprawled casually in one of the armchairs, was grinning like the cat that had caught the canary.

“So, why are you here?” Light asked, his tone clipped, but carrying that edge of authority that made anyone who heard it feel like they were a hair’s breadth away from being shredded.

Knox, unfazed, leaned forward, balancing a bottle of something dark in one hand. “Well, mate, I’ve been wanderin’ around the place, gettin’ all sorts of messages from the real world, and thought I’d pop by. You know, clear the air, have a chat. Pretty quiet here, actually,” he added, looking around at the pristine opulence of the room. “Gotta say, didn’t expect you to be this fancy. But yeah, figured you’d appreciate a little visit.”

Light raised an eyebrow, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of his desk. “Are the other Emissaries with you?”

Knox shook his head nonchalantly. “Nah, mate. Just me. Yuye’s off doin’ his thing, and the others have their assignments. I finished up first, so I thought I’d drop by for a bit of fun. Figured I’d mess with you, eh?”

Light’s gaze flickered to Knox’s face, and there was a brief flash of annoyance in his eyes. “As usual,” he muttered, but didn’t bother arguing. It was typical of Knox to show up when Light least expected it—especially after the Emissaries had been on their usual rounds, operating under the radar as always.

Knox, sensing the slight tension in the air, grinned wider. “Ahh, you’re still mad about me showing up unannounced? Relax, mate. Just havin’ a little fun, that’s all. So… what’s the deal with your messages? Not seein’ them?” He took a long swig from his bottle, a dark liquid sloshing inside.

Light sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in his chair. “I was… busy.” He didn’t look at Knox directly. His eyes were fixed on some invisible point, clearly distracted by the weight of the countless messages he had been ignoring, ones that no doubt contained updates on everything happening in the real world. His mind had been preoccupied with the absurdity of Knox’s impromptu visit and the bizarre nature of their entire situation.

Knox’s lips twitched. He loved messing with Light, testing his patience, watching the Archduke’s composed mask crack—just a little bit. “Oh, I get it. Real busy, huh? Sounds like you need a break. A vacation, maybe? Just the two of us. You and me, no other Emissaries or secret missions. It’s been ages since we’ve had some proper time together, yeah?”

Light let out a long exhale through his nose. He could feel his patience fraying. “Reine and Nagy are also Players here,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing at Knox.

Knox snorted, scratching at his chin. “Ahh, so that’s what’s got you all bent out of shape. Your two buddies are also in the mix, huh? No need to worry, I’m not after them. I just want a proper competition with you, like the good old days. You know, back when it was just the two of us—no Emissaries crowdin’ the place, no other players, just us.”

Light’s gaze turned icy, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You do realize, of course, that if you get any ideas about coming into contact with any of my other groups, including Reine or Nagy, I’ll kill you,” he said, his voice so cold it could have frozen the air between them. His words were blunt, calculated. He didn’t take kindly to any interruption in his carefully controlled chaos.

Knox held up his hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his eyes never wavered. “Alright, alright, no need to get all dramatic on me. I get it. But how about a competition anyway? We’ve got that fire in us, don’t we? Whoever wins, gets something. You know, no holds barred.”

Light sighed, leaning back in his chair once again, his fingers moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “What’s your proposition, then?”

Knox’s eyes gleamed. He leaned forward, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. “Simple. We compete for the ending. Whoever wins, gets to take something from the other. Maybe I’ll get a date back in the real world, eh? Something like that.” He winked, the pirate grin widening, as if he had just suggested the most innocent of ideas.

Light’s eyes narrowed. “You never change.”

Knox laughed, uncaring, leaning back in his chair as he took another swig of his drink. “Not much fun in changin’, mate. You know how I like it—chaotic, bloody, and messy.”

Light stared at him for a long moment, the gears in his mind clicking into place. He had been interrupted, thrown off course, but he was always a step ahead. He could never let his guard down, especially not when it came to someone like Knox—or, more accurately, Yoon Ha-joon, the Player behind the game.

With a sigh, Light leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Fine. But no more games after this. We finish what we start.”

Knox raised his glass in a mock salute, grinning. “Aye, aye, mate. Let’s see who gets the ending this time, eh?”

The game was set. But even in this strange moment of camaraderie, a storm of silent rivalry raged between them. Neither would give an inch.

Echo 5 – Through the Veins of Night. [12.0. Scarlet Requiem]

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