A calm morning, reletively early for a day to take a break but yet there stood Miden all ready in some cloths that he bought in the local market. They were expensive fiber but not such to meet the expectation of what a noble would wear.
He glanced a reflection of himself in the mirror on the wall. A plain white button-up shirt, a black pant and then an woolen coat on top of his shirt. He smiled at his appearance. He pulled back his hair and tied it in a ponytail.
Then his eyes fell on the mirror again. He saw his own eyes and got lost in them for a while. It was the kind of complete loss, not one of appreciation of the looks or for himself, but rather a complete blackout from the consciousness. Then he snapped out.
He swiftly took a quill and wrote in a neat handwriting;
"If you are reading this I might not be there. I will be back in around evening."
Then he left to go back to the land of Zen. The peaceful rythmn of the wind pleased the scenes of Miden and he took a deep breath. He heard the sound of instruments in the region and appreciated it. The music made him calm.
Miden found a shop where he bought spectacles for him to wear as he figured it would be a nice addition to this look. It sure was. The specs were beautiful.
He visited a café. He found the owners to be a very sweet couple and he so figured the coffee must be nice. He ordered a black coffee and then sat comfertably on the seat; waiting as he looked out of the window to the street.
Then the waiter, who was the owner, came with the black coffee he had ordered. He looked at Miden quietly for a second before asking, "Is this your order?"
Miden nodded in responce and then he placed it on his table.
"Black, eh?" inquired the owner. "Not many people prefer black coffee, you know? Especially kids like you."
Miden gave his coffee a stir and then lifted his cup and then sipped. It was as good as he expected.
"Is that so..." Miden replied to his statement.
He was silent for a while and the waiter took it as a sign to leave. He turned behind to get behind the counter.
"So" Miden started, "What do kids like me usually get?"
He turned back at his question and looked quite intruiged.
"I don't know something like a milkshake, ice-cream or something of that catagory. Sweet that is. That's quite bitter, what you just ordered."
Miden took another sip and nodded with a smile which looked quite forced but it really wasn't.
"Sometimes" he continued, "they get a pastry or some sweets. We do that here."
He completed his scentence and was about to leave when he heard a reply.
"I can't have anything like a milkshake" said Miden, "but I would really like a pastry, if you don't mind."
The owner smiled at this.
"Can we get a pastry here, Honey!" he yelled to the counter, to the second owner, his wife. She came out hearing this. He rose an eyebrow looking at Miden again.
"Which one?"
"I'll go with the Chocolate, please."
"You got it."
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It was still unclear to Miden what had made him go out on this day. It had been about 4 days in Almagica and he did not make any friends outside his squad. Maybe he got out to feel good, or maybe to see Zen. He didn't fully understand it anyway.
The choice of cloths was also might come out an mystery for some, but that was not the case for Miden: he had a reason. The reason for this was that he did not want to get much attention and be seen as a noble, no less a royal. He put on these cloths to feel different.
He walked down the street, which once was quiet when he visited in the morning. The scilence of these markets was always short and after that the venders took over. The air started to blow in a breeze. The sun was fully risen in the air like the proud flag of the earth.
Miden had been walking around aimlessly trying stalls and places. He had adopted a new face. A pony, glasses and a plain peasents outfit. It felt quite right to him. He wished that he could smile but he couldn't because he couldn't come up with an artificial smile, he could only smile a natural and that was quite rare for Miden.
Walking down the street, he stumbled upon an sign. That sign cought his attention and he read;
"The Colosseum:
The battle for glory."
It was an competition. He inquired an local about it and the kind man gave him directions and information. It was an local thing - at least that's what the man had told him. The date was always unfixed. It was always held in the colosseum of Zen. Many of the important events happened there as well. This however was for entertainment.
After he had reached the place, he immediately questioned if students could enter. He man there rose an eyebrow at this question.
"There are no restrictions." said the man, "But they prefer not to anyway. Honestly, why would they? Young bloods."
"I would like to enter then."
He again seemed skeptical.
"You're a student?" he questioned.
Miden did not reply, instead he just left without any words. It was not cold of him to do that, he wanted the man to geuss and that's what he did. He smiled.
"Young bloods."
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Miden had given his name in the competition hoping no other student would and he was quite right about that. He wanted to see how well he would do in fights here and this was his chance at doing just that.
His face turned an unpleasant expression when he saw a fimilier face walking around in the market. It was a noble outfit he wore - ones of the Angels, with a cynical smile and pride in his walk. Heads bowed to this man whom Miden had no wish to meet. It was the face of Barachiel.
He turned around to leave the place. He held no intention of meeting him as it would definitely cause a fight. With his new apperance he would be able to do that easily but Barachiel did not let that happen.
A boy, a very young demon kid, walked down the path playfully with other kid. He seemed to slip on the slope that lead the way. He was flung into the air by a push.
He crashed barely into Barachiel, giving him a push. The boy got up an gave a sigh of relief. Then he looked over to the man he had bumped into. He was all drenched in water. The bay had hit him that's true but he had not landed on him. He had landed over a water bucket that had flew into the Angel.
The boy was terrified. He kneeled and then apologised to the Angel with a really sorry face and a pitiful expression on it.
"Forgive me kind sir." said the boy, he looked for his friends; who had already left at this time because of this. "I beg your mercy, good sir."
He ran a hand over his face and then splased the water on the other side. He had a furious face and there was no pity in his eyes. He rose his fist against the child. He mummurd something, probably a curse. He was about to land his attack but it was stopped by a different hand.
"You" he said with a still fury in his expression, "Who are you? I warn you to get away."
"Leave the child and I will." replied the one who had held his hand.
His face immediately twisted into a cruel smile instead of rage and he said with that,
"I haven't met someone like you for a long time. Are you taking a dare, a fight?"
The man rose his head with flowing red hairs and the same blue eyes with an deapth to it but with glasses. With a confident voice he said,
"Geuss again. You have."
This face of Miden drove him into an even crazier state of emotions. He cursed at first at him and then Miden looked around for any squad mates that might have been with his; there weren't any. Again, with a fury he yelled,
"What are you doing here." he observed his cloths carefully and then smirked, "Have you dropped so low already?"
In a flash, a kick landed his face and broke his nose. Blood gushed out of it and then he stood up and his lips parted to speak.
"Barachiel Thunderclap. Was it?" Miden interrupted, "That's what I belive it was. Doesn't matter."
Barachiel stood up on his feets and the pushed the guards, that had been with him, away and asked them to back off.
"Answer this," Miden continued distracting Barachiel, "are you a hypocrite? I belive you are. This is taking it to a whole different level, even for you. You attack the weak and poor even when there is nothing to achive. Your foul words don't come out as generous as people praised the angels to be. The nobels face shed no tears but crumbles as a mask while you don't even conceal your hidious face. You are a Hypocrite. That's the ultimate truth."
With each word that came out of his mouth, Barachiel became more furious. The words that he spoke had a bitter truth that he didn't want to hear; nither did he admit that's a truth.
"You are high" he smirked after some thought, "You are high on the thought of your royalty. In what you spoke you are a greater hypocrite than me. That name, Abyssheart is what you were known for. You are not anymore. This is not Kolasi, this is Zen!"
Now it was Miden who became furious, at the last sentence he said, 'Abyssheart is what you were know for...' . Miden did not say anything for a while and then he smiled.
"You are merely weak." he continued.
"Barachiel," smiled the prince, an artificial one, "you are absolutely no match. No match for the strength I posses, nor the mind I hold or even humanity I have."
Barachiel lost it. He raised a fist in a fast pace and then striked his face with heavy power. It was a mere wind scratching Miden, he caught it with a quick efficiency.
"You..." sneered Barachiel. "Who do you think you are?"
"A Prince" came a voice from within the crowd and then from there emerged a well-known face for both of them. It was Reo.
"What do you think you are doing here?" demanded he.
"You stay out of this, you understand. Reo!" yelled Barachiel.
"He is a higher rank than you, you see, Barachiel."
"What does it mean now." he laughed, "He is a student like us in here. We are the same."
"Don't you get it now?" said Reo.
"What are you talking about?"
"The rank."
At this the Angel's face turned red.
"We had a talk about this just now." raged he.
"That is what I'm trying to say." rejoiced Reo. "The rank. It does not matter anymore. What is it that you have pride for while stomping the poor? The weak you bully, what is the joy? It is that you enjoy what you do. You enjoy to stomp the one a lower rank than you, I suppose. What was the diffrance there, you think? It was of the rank."
Barachiel was left speechless and Miden was happy seeing this. He found an impact in Reo's words that had driven him to this state. He was happy to see this.
"Instead" continued Reo, "Why don't you have a fight? The Colosseum?"
Miden quickly lost all the respect that Reo had gained, at least during that time. It was a disappointment on his poor face. Miden did not want to fight a classmate. He would be willing to take in a seasoned fighter rather than this to happen.
"Great" declared he, those were the only words left on him, "I will fight."
A whisper went among the crowd one of the match that was about to occur. It was the time Miden hoped he could avoid. He wanted to run far away but he couldn't. He wanted to refuse but he couldn't, he had a standard to hold for him and a image to have in public.
Miden walked away.
"Miden!" yelled Reo as he walked away. Miden turned to face him. "I'm really sorry. You see, I didn't mean to, really I didn't. But what could I do. To hold respect for you. I had to take this path."
Miden hushed Reo. He had a quiet expression on his face, so quite that it was expressionless.
"Please forgive me for what I have done." he said one last time hoping for a reply.
"Are you done?" questioned Miden in a cold way.
"I'm-"
"Sorry? Don't be. It was not your fault." he looked up to the bright blue sky and appriciated his beauty. "It's not like I don't wish to fight, anyway. You were trying to upheld my glory and... you were successful in doing so. I won't object."
They both looked at each other'sface for a while and then they burst out laughing, nearly at the same time.
"What were you doing here anyway?" questioned Reo, smiling.
"What were you?"
"Just roaming. Just walking around."
Miden smiled.
"Would you like a pastry? I know a delicious cafe here. It's right around here."
Reo smiled.
"Let's go."
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