Van looked downwards. Inside, he was sneering, but his expression remained stoic. His lack of clothing did not bother him at all.

"Please…mercy…!" Hans begged.

Van raised a brow. Mercy?

This person had the gall to ask Van for mercy?

By nature, Van was not a ruthless person, but he was no saint either. The person at his feet had gleefully taunted him, threatened him, mocked him – how could he remain calm? Not to mention…

Van inspected Hans with a lazy eye. Indeed. It was there in the slant of Hans' eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw and the fist tucked into his side – Hans' killing intent had not lessened in the slightest!

A small smile curled Van's lips. Fine, then.

Others, for good reasons, he had the strength in him to forgive. But Hans? Would Hans have been merciful as he crushed every single bone in Van's body and then left him a useless cripple unable to 'wipe his own a.s.s'?

Like h.e.l.l!

An expression of distaste flickered across Van's features. He felt a small flame begin to burn in his chest.

"Plotting to kill someone just because of your lack of ability…how unsightly!"

Hans flinched back as if he had been slapped. Van mercilessly ground his foot down. The older boy below him winced as his bones began to creak.

Van was relentless with his words.

"They have a special phrase for people like you, Hans. Weak of heart and mind. Unwilling to bear suffering but also unwilling to sincerely push towards the top with their own abilities - only able to endlessly scheme against others. A petty villain in a child's play!"

Hans' expression twisted. Van continued; each word a sword that sliced past the tender skin and into the bleeding depths of a heart.

"You're being used as a disposable chess piece in someone else's game, and you don't even know it!"

Like a bitter elixir, shame and anger mixed into Hans' swirling emotions. His expression morphed between anger, humiliation, regret and viciousness.

"You...!" He spat, face red and the veins in his forehead starkly bulging out.

Van's foot pressed down harder. He remembered the countless taunts that had been tossed his way.

Snap!

Hans howled. The sound echoed loudly between the trees. His face scrunched up; he was barely enduring the pain.

"How does it feel?" Van narrowed his eyes, "This is less than a tenth of what you promised me! Surely, you can withstand more than this!"

There was another snapping sound.

On the ground, Hans convulsed. Van stood above silently. Seeing Hans' writhing form, the flame of anger in his heart calmed slightly. He ran a shaking hand over his face and told himself to calm down. To not let his emotions get the better of him.

He took a deep breath in and out.

At that moment, a slim figure was tossed carelessly to the ground.

Freya tumbled onto the gra.s.s; her face was bloodied, and her hair tangled. Seeing Van in his complete state of undress, she grew timid and looked down and did not raise her head again. The whip was gone.

The large wolf that had unceremoniously dumped Freya settled a heavy paw onto her back and perked its ears. An eager look and a wagging tail were aimed at Van.

The boy smiled.

To Hans, Van's serene smile seemed full of hidden daggers.

True fear had long settled into Hans' stomach.

Not only did this kid possess an astonis.h.i.+ng physical body and an inhuman cultivation speed - his personality was decisive and calm. Although he wasn't a genius, he wasn't an idiot either. Somehow, at every turn, they had been foiled. Hans' broken fingers throbbed painfully with each circulation of blood.

His will to fight started to dwindle. Hans' head hung lower into the ground.

All he wanted was for this endless nightmare to end already. Death? He thought he could almost face it. Living would be nice, of course, but anything was better than the beating his pride was taking. Above all else, Hans' pride was the one thing he could not bear for others to step on! It was his greatest weakness and yet the source of his will and strength.

Being humiliated in front of the Herbal Hall the other week had already tested the limits of his heart – nearly resulting in an internal demon. This…? The fog in his heart and mind were so dense and heavy he felt as if were drowning.

The staff was kicked out of Hans' numbed fingers. He could only watch as it was picked up casually by the figure in front of him.

Van inspected the metal staff in his palms with an admiring look. The metal felt curiously alive in his grasp, giving off a feeling of haughty righteousness. The staff was white-silver in appearance, and its overly simple carvings gave it a strange feeling of incompleteness as if its creator had hastily sent out an unfinished, unpolished product. However, the quality of the material was undeniable and the workmans.h.i.+p impeccable despite its simplicity.

Van spun the staff in his hands, finding it a bit on the lighter side. Ah, but that's right, both Hans and Freya were the rich scions of a famous group of merchant families in Cloud River. This staff probably costed nothing to them.

Remembering his need for treasures and resources, Van gave the older youths at his feet an appraising look.

Keeping with tradition, he poked Jet. The wide-awake ring easily evaded, huffing in annoyance as it did so.

[What?] Jet demanded, [Just kill them and be done with it!]

Van shook his head.

[They will be of much more use to me alive. Look at this.]

Jet swam closer to the forefront of Van's mind and peered through his eyes.

[Eh?]

There was a note of surprise in it's tone.

Excitement filled Van's belly.

[It's a good item, isn't it?]

The ring pulsed. Grudgingly, it spoke.

[…It's even better than what you think. If I'm not mistaken, this incomplete weapon was made from starsteel…Even incomplete, it is not something a mere merchant family from a small country like this can buy.]

[How could it end up in this kid's hands? It doesn't make sense.]

Van frowned, uneasy. He looked down at the staff and ran a hand along the carvings along the sides. The staff responded with warmth.

Such a nice gift had been placed in his hands… it was hard to let go of it. Van turned his attention back to the two figures in front of him.

"This staff," he barked, "where did you guys get it from?"

Hans' head lifted. His eyes flickered to the side uneasily.

"It was stolen."

"From?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't do it, a friend did. He is…following Klaus as well. All I know was that he got it from within the sect."

Van narrowed his eyes. That wasn't much to go off, but at least he knew he would need to be cautious within the sect.

[What do you think, Jet?] Van asked, touching the staff thoughtfully, [If this was stolen from someone important, I will be in serious trouble if they sense its aura on me.]

Jet spun lazily.

[That is something you don't have to worry about. For a certain price in spiritual power, I can store it within my body.]

[Oh? I thought I could just stick it my mindscape?]

The ring was affronted.

[What, you think any old thing can manifest in your spiritual sea?]

Van nodded sheepishly. The only two treasures he possessed had had this ability, after all.

The ring tsked, [Idiot. That green b.a.s.t.a.r.d is not simple.]

[Anyway, I can store the staff within me, but to do this I must siphon off more power as you cultivate. At your level, I only have the capacity to store one item. Though I can hide the staff, you must also hide me from prying eyes.]

The boy nodded and held up the silver staff. Under the sunlight, it grew translucent and disappeared.

There was a shocked gasp from below.

"H-how!?" Hans stuttered.

Van calmly turned, listening to Jet's instructions within his head. When his eyes met Hans' and Freya's, they were fathomless pools of swirling energy.

__________________

A golden-haired figure wearing green robes, reclined lazily on the branch of a large tree, watched as a young boy of about thirteen years of age led another two servants out of the forest. Over forty low-level demon wolves trailed their exit.

The blonde figure, bored, yawned and patted his mouth with a hand. He closed the little black book in his hands.

"My quiet napping spot wasn't so quiet today," he complained, tickling the chin of a small golden monkey with intelligent black eyes.

It scampered about the figure's robes, a look of deep disapproval on its tiny face. In its hand was a small black badge embossed with insignia containing five intersecting triangles. This particular badge was rather bashed up, and weary-looking. It was clearly not well-loved. The tiny monkey poked its finger rather deliberately a few times at the script printed below the insignia. 'Inter-Sect Patrol Team A,' it read.

The golden-haired man nodded sagely, "Indeed, he's lucky he didn't do anything too extreme in front of me, or I would have had to actually do something."

The monkey threw up its tiny hands in anger.