The courtyard was quiet, the sun dipping below the blood-hued skyline of Bloodforge City. Iris sat on the old stone bench beneath the spirit tree, legs tucked beneath her, chin resting on her knee. Her eyes hadn't left the gate in hours.
Malikai had gone into the Battle Tower.
The wind blew through her long hair. She hugged herself. It was evening now. The sky burned in red and purple streaks, and the wind felt colder without him around.
Just as she started to drift off, a deep, heavy pressure rolled through the courtyard.
Her eyes snapped open.
He was back.
She turned—and there he was, stepping through the gate like a shadow being pulled from the abyss. Malikai Doom. His presence was different now. Before, he'd always felt strong, like a beast straining against its own skin. But now...
Now, he was refined. His aura no longer raged wildly. It sliced like a blade honed for war but docile at the same time.
"You're back," she said quietly, standing up, trying to seem calm.
His crimson eyes glanced at her, then softened just a bit. "Mm."
That was all. A hum. But Iris had come to understand him. That hum meant he was okay.
They didn't say much as they walked inside. No words were needed. Not yet.
Later, they sat beneath the lanterns, the courtyard lit in soft golden glow. Plates of food were spread before them—simple spirit beast meat and soft buns. Malikai ate quietly, calmly, while Iris watched him from across the low table.
Then, he reached into his spatial ring and pulled out a black bottle sealed with a blood-red cork.
"I need a drink," he said.
"You need a drink?" she blinked.
"Asuras love blood, wine, and women. I'm still an Asura myself, even if i don't act like one." A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.
He popped the cork, and the smell hit her instantly—rich, dark, and dizzying. Her cheeks flushed.
"This wine was from my mother. A bottle strong enough to knock a Nascent Soul demon flat if they drink too much."
"You shouldn't drink it then—" she started.
"I said if they drink too much," he said, already pouring them both a cup.
They drank. One cup. Two.
Iris was already red in the face by the third, her posture looser, her eyes glassy. She kept scooting closer with each sip, until she was basically leaning into him, giggling softly.
"You look different," she mumbled, her face pressed slightly against his arm. "Handsome... you were scary before. Now you're scary and more handsome..."
He didn't respond.
Her warmth against his side stirred something deep. A flicker of the Asura blood that howled in his veins. His eyes darted to her collarbone, where her robes had loosened just slightly in her drunken haze. Her skin glowed in the soft lantern light, her breath hot against his chest.
A flicker of lust flashed in his eyes.
Then vanished just as fast.
He shut it down with a breath, pouring another half cup only for himself. She was drunk. Too drunk.
"Malikai..." she whispered, voice soft. "I feel... funny. Warm... everywhere..."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, and within seconds, her breathing slowed.
She had fallen asleep.
He didn't move.
Instead, he sat still, one arm loosely draped near her, crimson eyes closed as he slipped into silent meditation. The scent of wine lingered, sweet and dark like old blood.
Morning.
Iris stirred, groaning softly as her senses returned. Her head pounded, her body still warm, limbs tangled and sore.
But what hit her first wasn't pain.
It was his scent.
Gods, it made her so dizzy.
Her face turned red instantly. Her eyes snapped open—and there she was, practically wrapped around Malikai's side like some clingy lover. His robe smelled like cold spice, metal, and something darker. Something intoxicating.
She looked up.
He was still sitting there. Unmoving. Meditating, as if nothing in the world had changed.
She panicked.
Her heart slammed in her chest, and with a squeak she launched to her feet, tripping over herself and bolting from the courtyard with a face red enough to challenge the sun.
She didn't even look back.