A New Reality

It had been three days since they were taken under Lord Lawrence, and now, they were in his household — a dazzling mansion that had quite a tight security. Idris had spent those days navigating the stark reality of his new life, where freedom was a distant memory, and the weight of servitude settled heavily on his shoulders. The opulence of the mansion, with its grand chandeliers and polished marble floors, felt like a gilded cage, and he quickly learned to suppress his yearning for escape. Julius, a seasoned servant with a weary smile, took it upon himself to teach them the intricacies of their new roles, imparting knowledge on how to cater to every whim of their master.

Day by day, Idris found himself adapting to the rhythm of servitude, his identity slowly eroding under the harsh demands of Lord Lawrence's household. He understood now that they were not merely individuals; they were reduced to tools in service to the whims of a man whose power loomed over them like a shadow, a relentless reminder that they were nothing but slaves in this world of luxury and oppression.

'It's all going to be alright,' He thought, his eyes staring at Julius as he stood there, staring outside the window, at the garden of roses and tulips. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, making it shimmer like heated ink. He was tall alright, and his imposing figure had a threatening aura that emanated from it. Idris couldn't ignore this, but something in him knew exactly what that was. Julius was most definitely a mage, and a powerful one to be precise otherwise he wouldn't be the one incharge.

"Idris was it?" Julius said softly. "They say you're an angel, correct?"

"I am." Idris said.

"Good." Julius said. "I have a quick question for you."

Idris cocked a brow. "Yes?"

"How did you lose your wings?"

The question invoked memories he didn't want to resurface. He could almost see it, that one moment of disobedience and how it led to the other. The Reaper, he had seen him, a mere mortal with incredible magic and skills — who single handedly butchered all of them. He gritted his teeth, taking a step backwards as if startled with something. "It was the Reaper."

"Reaper?" Julius turned, staring at him with his sapphire eyes. "What about a Reaper?"

"He's the one who killed my friends, and removed wings." Idris admitted, anger burning beneath his skin. If only he could exert revenge, cut off the Reaper's limbs, one after the other in a repeated sequence.

"I see." Julius said. "I've been alive long enough, but I've never heard of a Reaper."

"Well, he exists and he's the one who took away my wings." Idris gritted his teeth.

Julius broke into a smirk. "I guess that's for the good then, otherwise you wouldn't be here would you?"

'As a slave?' Idris thought, watching with careful eyes as he turned, staring back outside at the garden of roses. There was something about this man that he failed to understand. Apart from being also a mere servant serving the house of Lord Lawrence, he had a domineering presence which somehow demanded submission.

*

*( A few years ago )*

A little girl stood there, her wide eyes fixed on a commotion unfolding before her. A group of rowdy children surrounded a man clad in rich garb, his silk attire gleaming in the sunlight, while a guard loomed beside him, sword at the ready. The man's voice rose above the laughter as he cussed at the kids, anger twisting his features, but their teasing only grew bolder, emboldened by his frustration.

Seizing the moment, the girl crept closer, her heart racing with the thrill of opportunity. With deft fingers, she snatched a handful of gleaming gold coins from the man's pocket, but before she could slip away, his hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength.

"Thief!" he spat, fury igniting his eyes. In a flash of instinct, she drew a small knife from her belt and stabbed his hand, causing him to howl in pain and release her. Gold coins fluttered through the air as she bolted, shoving through the throng of startled onlookers. Glancing back, her blood ran cold as she saw the guard's fierce determination, sword drawn and aimed at her retreating form.

Panic surged within her, but she pushed herself to run faster, darting into a narrow alley just as the guard closed in. Mud squelched beneath her feet, and she lost her balance, sliding down and spinning to face her pursuer. The guard swung his sword, and by sheer luck, her bloodied knife met the blade in a clash that sent her rolling onto the ground. Crouched in the muck, she gripped her weapon tightly, biting the hilt as she narrowed her gaze at him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he warned, his voice low and steady, "but if you resist, I'll be forced to kill you." The tension crackled between them, a standoff between innocence and the harsh reality of survival.

The guard stood tall and imposing, his muscular frame clad in dark leather armor that glinted ominously in the dim light of the alley. His face was rugged, with sharp features and a stern brow that cast shadows over his piercing blue eyes. A scar ran along his jawline, a testament to battles fought and won, and his hair was cropped short, emphasizing the hard lines of his visage. As the girl panted, knowing she was trapped, she grasped her knife once more, its hilt warm against her palm, and steeled herself for another attempt.

With determination, she advanced towards him, her heart pounding in her chest. The guard's sword gleamed menacingly as he swung it with practiced precision, each strike carrying depth and power. The blade whistled through the air, narrowly missing her as she danced around it, her adrenaline fueling her movements. Despite her agility, she felt the sharp sting of his blade grazing her skin on several occasions, leaving thin lines of crimson across her arms.

But in a moment of clarity, she dodged a particularly fierce swing, her instincts kicking in as she thrust her free hand forward. A seal, almost like a pentagram, shimmered into existence, pulsating with a strange energy as she aimed it at his abdomen. Just as she thought she could reach him, a blinding explosion erupted before her, sending her sprawling backward into the muck. A cloud of smoke enveloped her, the world around her suddenly chaotic and disorienting.

When the smoke finally began to clear, she lifted her head cautiously, her breath hitching in her throat. There, amidst the dissipating haze, stood the guard, an amused chuckle escaping his lips. "That was a close one," he said, his voice dripping with a mix of mockery and admiration. His demeanor had shifted, the playful glint in his eyes revealing a man who relished the challenge, making her realize that the fight was over.

The guard, advanced towards her with a smirk playing on his lips, his presence commanding the space around them. He crouched slightly before her, his eyes glinting with a mix of intrigue and amusement. "You know," he said, his voice low and smooth, "I've never seen a kid with such talent for magic."

She, still panting and wary, narrowed her gaze at him. "Are you going to throw me in jail?" she asked, her voice laced with defiance.

He shook his head sideways, the smirk never wavering. "I'm better than that."

"Then why did you chase after me?" she pressed, her curiosity piqued despite the danger she felt.

"Because you stole from my Lord," he replied, his tone turning serious.

She scoffed, her indignation rising. "Your Lord is no different from a thief. They steal from the poor and homeless."

He chuckled, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "I'm not interested in what's right or wrong," he admitted, a knowing smile creeping across his face. "I only value my priorities above everything else."

"Then why are you still here?" she challenged, tilting her head defiantly.

He sighed, almost as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "It doesn't matter," he said dismissively, before suddenly shifting his tone. "What's your name, I'm Marcus?"

At the sound of his name, a shiver raced down her spine, her eyes widening as she stared at him. A palpable bloodlust emanated from him, so intense it felt as though her skin might peel away under its pressure. The air around them seemed charged, heavy with an unseen force.

"Are you… the Hollow?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending chills through her. "I don't go by that name anymore," he replied, his aura blazing like a flame around him, a mesmerizing yet terrifying sight.

She couldn't tear her gaze away, captivated by the dark energy that surrounded him. "Elianore," she finally whispered, her name a fragile thread in the charged atmosphere between them, as she tried to grasp the reality of the man before her.

*

(Present)

Elianore resurfaced from the warm pond, the cold water cascading over her skin as she gasped for air, the sensation both shocking and invigorating after what felt like an eternity submerged in her own thoughts. She stood for a moment, droplets clinging to her body, before she dove back into the depths, her eyes closing as she embraced the soothing embrace of the water.

As she swam, her finger traced the spot on her skin where the Slave Seal marked her, a reminder of her past and the chains that bound her. The water enveloped her, and she glided through the depths, pushing herself until her lungs burned from the lack of air. Just when she thought she could go on no longer, she broke the surface again, gasping as her eyes darted around.

To her surprise, she spotted a lady standing outside the pool, her silhouette framed against the sun. The woman had short black hair that framed her face and large, expressive eyes that seemed to hold a world of knowledge. "Lord Julius wants you in the study room in exactly five minutes," she announced, her voice calm and authoritative.

Elianore smiled, her spirit lifted by the familiar face. She swam to the edge of the pool, the water sliding down her skin, glistening in the light. With a graceful motion, she climbed out, feeling the warmth of the sun on her wet body. She quickly grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself to shield her nudity, the fabric absorbing the moisture as she pulled it tight.

Looking at the lady, she said, "I'll be there in no time," her voice steady and full of determination. The weight of the world felt a little lighter, if only for a moment, as she prepared to face whatever awaited her in the study room.

Here in Lord Lawrence's mansion, she had a plan. She wasn't going to be a slave much longer, she wasn't trained to do that. If all had gone well, she wanted to do one thing: Kill everyone and escape.

Elianore reached the study, her heart racing with anticipation. As she stepped inside, her gaze settled on both Idris and Julius. A smile crept across her lips as she approached them, her movements fluid and alluring. With her hand resting confidently on her hip, she directed her lilac eyes towards Julius. "Why did you summon me?" she asked, her voice dripping with seduction.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Idris watching her, his dark eyes glinting with silver. A faint blush tinged his cheeks, a sign of his unexpected vulnerability. Elianore couldn't help but chuckle. "Wipe the drool off your face, Idris," she teased, her playful tone cutting through the tension in the room.

Idris quickly looked away, a hint of annoyance flashing across his features as he turned to Julius. The atmosphere shifted, and Julius took that moment to establish the purpose of their gathering. "You both have a mission to establish," he stated, his voice steady and commanding.

Idris cocked an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What sort of mission?"

Julius leaned forward, his expression serious. "This is your first mission. If you try to escape, it will be pointless—your Slave Seals bind you to this city."

Elianore felt her insides twist at the reminder of their predicament. "What exactly is our mission?" she pressed, her voice firm despite the unease creeping into her heart.

A grin spread across Julius's face. "I want you to recruit the new bride for Lord Lawrence. She'll be arriving soon, and you must escort her to the mansion."

Idris raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident. "I don't even know who the bride is."

Julius chuckled, dismissing Idris's concerns. "You've got nothing to worry about. You'll have an escort."

"Escort?" Elianore echoed, her curiosity deepening.

With a clap of his hands, Julius summoned the attention of the room. As the door swung open, the trio stepped into the study, each one exuding a distinct aura that commanded attention.

The first man was tall and muscular, with wild, tousled hair that fell in dark waves around his face. His skin was sun-kissed, and a series of tattoos snaked down his arms, each one telling a story of battles fought and won. His piercing green eyes glinted with mischief, and a confident smirk danced on his lips, suggesting he thrived on chaos. He wore a sleeveless leather vest that showcased his toned physique, paired with rugged trousers and heavy boots, making it clear that he was no stranger to rough encounters.

The second man was leaner but equally imposing, with short, spiky black hair and a striking scar that ran diagonally across his cheek, hinting at a tumultuous past. His dark eyes had a silver glint, sharp and calculating, as if he were always assessing his surroundings. He was dressed in a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing toned forearms adorned with bracelets made of metal and leather. His demeanor was intense, and he radiated a quiet but potent energy that suggested he was both a strategist and a fighter.

The third member of the group was a girl, equally fierce yet strikingly different from her companions. She had long, fiery red hair that cascaded down her back in wild curls, framing her freckled face. Her large amber eyes sparkled with defiance and curiosity, and her confident stance suggested that she was more than capable of holding her own among the men. She wore a fitted leather jacket over a simple white top, and her dark jeans hugged her figure comfortably. Her combat boots hinted at her readiness for action, and the assortment of rings on her fingers glinted with each movement, adding an edge to her already formidable presence.

Julius gestured toward them. "These are your escorts. In case you try to flee… well, let's just say they'll be more than willing to butcher you."

The weight of the situation settled over Elianore like a heavy shroud, but she masked her unease with a confident smile. She could handle this—after all, it was just another game in a world full of danger and intrigue.

Elianore studied the trio, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "What if I just kill these guys first?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock bravado.

Julius's grin widened, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You can try all you want, Elianore, but let's be honest—you aren't that powerful."

Before Elianore could retort, Idris interjected, his tone firm as he sought to diffuse the tension. "Can we ease up on the killing intent? We have a mission to focus on."

Julius chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Alright, alright. Let me introduce you properly," he said, gesturing to the trio. "This is Kael," he indicated the tall, muscular man with the wild hair and mischievous grin. "And next to him is Dorian," he pointed to the leaner man with the scar and calculating gaze. "Lastly, we have Ember," he finished, motioning to the fiery-haired girl whose confidence radiated from her.

Kael nodded, arms crossed, a playful glint in his eye. Dorian simply raised an eyebrow, observing Elianore with a hint of curiosity, while Ember smirked, as if daring Elianore to make the first move.

"Now that we're acquainted," Julius continued, his tone shifting to one of seriousness, "get ready. You have a bride to escort, and she'll be arriving soon."