I Don't Want To Be Heir.

In the training yard behind Vaelorian Manor, Azrael and Sylas engaged in a tense standoff, their eyes locked as they circled each other, attempting to anticipate the other's moves. Gathered in the background, Ravenna and several other knights from the Vaelorian household observed the impending battle.

Sylas's eyes glowed a fierce crimson as he declared, "This time, I won't be gentle, young master."

With those words, Sylas surged forward at astonishing speed, leaving behind a crimson blur as he closed in on Azrael. In an instant, Sylas's clawed hands clamped onto Azrael's neck and drove him into the ground with a force akin to a massive boulder. Azrael struggled within Sylas's unyielding grip, but it felt as though he was trapped in a vice, with no chance of escape.

"You're still too weak," Sylas stated coldly as he released Azrael's neck. He stood up, dusted himself off, and glanced over to where Ravenna watched, an amused glint in her eyes.