Mel and the Senior black cards stepped into the town of Eaglewood, and Mel's eyes widened in awe. The town was nestled among towering evergreen trees, with cobblestone streets winding through rows of charming timber-framed houses. Vibrant flower boxes adorned the windowsills, and the scent of pine and fresh blooms filled the air. A gentle river flowed through the center, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the golden sunlight. As they walked further, Mel couldn't help but admire the intricate carvings on the wooden bridges and the lush green parks scattered throughout the town, where locals gathered to enjoy the serene atmosphere.
As Mel approached the entrance to the festival, a burly man blocked his path. "You can't enter," the man declared, his tone firm. Mel looked up at him, puzzled.
"Why can't he enter?" Draven demanded, crossing his arms in defiance.
The man glanced around, lowering his voice. "This is the All Souls Festival, and everyone here knows who his father is. I won't say it out loud, but if he wants to come in, he'll have to wear one of these." Without warning, the man snapped a bracelet onto Mel's wrist. The moment it touched his skin, it seared into place, and strange symbols began carving themselves into his flesh. Mel winced as he felt his magical power drain away.
"What is this?" Mel asked, his voice strained as he examined the symbols on his wrist.
"That's a magic suppressor," the man replied coldly. "And you'll have to wear it if you want to stay."
"Why does he have to wear it? He's a black card!" Jasper protested, his voice filled with indignation.
The man mocked a gasp of surprise. "Oh, he's a black card? Well, I guess that means he can do whatever he wants, huh?" he sneered, dripping with sarcasm.
Draven gritted his teeth, frustrated. "Come on, Mel." He pulled Mel into the festival, with Kai and Jasper close behind, their moods darkened by the encounter.
A short while later, the four of them strolled through the festival, soaking in the vibrant atmosphere. They indulged in various treats from the food stalls, savoring the sweet aroma of candied fruits and the mouthwatering scent of roasted meats. Jasper, always eager for a challenge, dared Kai to a game of strength. They took turns striking a lever with a mallet to ring a bell, both successfully hitting the mark and drawing cheers from the crowd. Jasper and Kai exchanged cocky bows, clearly pleased with themselves. "Handle that, dragon boy!"
Not to be outdone, Draven scoffed and nudged Mel toward a metal punching machine. "Come on, Mel. Let's show them how it's really done!" Draven squared up to one of the machines, assuming a fighting stance.
Mel hesitated for a moment before nodding. "A-alright," he muttered, mimicking Draven's stance.
With a single, powerful punch each, Draven and Mel struck their machines with such force that the machines shattered upon impact. The crowd stood in stunned silence for a brief moment before bursting into applause and cheers.
As the excitement died down, Mel spotted the sophomores walking by, with Dorian trailing behind them, clearly annoyed as he carried their bags. His irritation was palpable, and he muttered under his breath, "I'm not a pack mule, you know." The sophomores ignored his grumbling, chatting animatedly among themselves.
Close behind, the juniors followed, with Elowen among them, looking embarrassed in a dress similar to theirs. She tugged at the fabric, her discomfort evident as she tried to avoid eye contact with anyone.
Mel called out, waving to catch their attention. "Oh, guys!"
Elowen glanced over, her cheeks flushing as she noticed Mel's grin. "Don't say a word," she warned, narrowing her eyes at him.
Dorian huffed as he shifted the bags in his arms. "Please, someone take these before I drop them on purpose."
"So, how's the training going, guys?" Mel asked, noticing the tension in their expressions.
Dorian handed the sophomores their bags and stretched with a sigh of relief. "Terrible," he groaned. "The sophomores are running me ragged! I've cleaned their clothes, done their homework—everything! But I'll put up with it if it means getting stronger." He clenched his fist, his eyes locking onto Mel with a determined glare that sent a shiver down Mel's spine.
"U-uhh, Elowen. How's your training going?" Mel stammered, turning to her for some relief.
Elowen crossed her arms and gestured to her dress with a frustrated sigh. "They said I need to be more 'elegant.' And on top of that, they expect me to host some fancy party like the Knights of Dawn did last year, claiming it'll make me a better student. I still can't bring out the full power of Excalibur… not like you did, somehow." She shot a pointed look at Mel, and he felt another chill run down his spine.
"These two are going to be the end of me," he thought, glancing nervously around for an escape.
Suddenly, Dorian noticed something on Mel's wrist. "Mel, what's that?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
Before Mel could answer, Elowen grabbed his wrist, inspecting the strange bracelet with a frown. "This… it's a magic suppressor, isn't it?" she said, her voice laced with concern. "Why are you wearing this?"
Mel hesitated, glancing around the festival as if searching for an explanation. "Some guy at the entrance put it on me," he finally admitted. "He said it was necessary because of… you know, who my father was."
Dorian's eyes narrowed in anger. "So, they're still treating you like you're some kind of ticking time bomb, huh? That's messed up."
Elowen's grip tightened on Mel's wrist. "We need to get this off you. There's no way you should be walking around with your powers suppressed."
Mel forced a small smile, trying to ease the tension. "It's okay, guys. I'll manage. Let's just enjoy the festival for now."
The three continued their stroll through the festival, taking in the sights and sounds. Suddenly, Mel's eyes widened as he spotted a food stall ahead, laden with delicious-looking treats. "What in all that's wizardry is that?!" he exclaimed, practically dragging Elowen and Dorian along with him as he sprinted toward the stall. They both yelped as they were momentarily lifted off the ground, helplessly pulled along by Mel's enthusiasm.
"What is it?!" Elowen asked breathlessly as she looked up at the stall.
Mel pointed at a picture of a chocolatey, fluffy, crunchy treat. "What's a 'samore'?" he asked, pronouncing the word poorly, his curiosity evident.
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You've never had a s'more? I thought they fed you well in the Bastille."
"They did, but it was mostly Moonberry tarts… and only when I asked," Mel replied, approaching the stall with wide-eyed excitement. He spotted a bell on the counter and couldn't resist ringing it. "Ooh," he gasped, ringing it again and again, his fascination only interrupted when Elowen gently stopped him.
"Three s'mores, please," she sighed, addressing the technological screen on the counter. Moments later, three perfectly made s'mores rose up from the floor of the stall, ready to be enjoyed.
The three grabbed their s'mores, and as soon as Mel took a bite, his taste buds exploded with joy. He let out a loud "Whoo hoo!" as he jumped into the air, unable to contain his excitement. He landed back on his feet, quickly devouring the rest of his s'more with a satisfied grin.
Just then, Draven strolled up to them, arms crossed and a cocky chuckle escaping his lips. "Look at my three students, being more studious than ever," he teased.
Elowen raised an eyebrow as she ate her s'more. "Your students? You're a senior, not a teacher," she retorted matter-of-factly, smacking Mel's hand away as he tried to sneak a piece of her s'more. Mel winced and rubbed his hand.
Draven sighed in agreement and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We were actually thinking, to avoid any discomfort or tension, maybe we should assign one senior each to oversee the sophomores, juniors, and freshmen. Instead of just the upperclassmen choosing a freshman. It'll also teach us how to be better leaders. For example, me over the freshmen, Jasper over the sophomores and Kai over the juniors"
As Draven spoke, Elowen nodded, considering the idea. Meanwhile, Mel's attention wandered to Dorian's untouched s'more. He reached for it, only for Dorian to move his hand away just in time.
"What are you doing?" Dorian asked, eyeing Mel suspiciously.
"You're not even eating it!" Mel pointed out, eyeing the s'more hungrily.
"So? I'm saving it for later!" Dorian replied with a casual shrug.
Mel, undeterred, grabbed Dorian's arm. "Share!" he whined, his voice dripping with desperation.
Dorian hissed, baring his fangs, and the two started wrestling, much to Elowen's amusement.
Mel and Dorian tumbled, with Dorian eventually ending up on top, chomping down on the s'more with a triumphant grin. Mel groaned and looked up to see a man flanked by two imposing bodyguards. The man regarded them with a warm smile.
"Hello, boys!" he said with a hearty chuckle. "I'm the mayor of Eaglewood. I noticed you're all black cards from the institute. I'd like you to fight in our All Souls' Tournament. What do you say?"
Mel quickly pushed Dorian off and sprang to his feet, bowing deeply. "You! You must be the genius behind the s'more phenomenon, mustn't you? My gratitude knows no bounds!" He whistled, and in an instant, his fish entourage swarmed around them, lifting the mayor and his guards off their feet, eliciting gasps of surprise.
Just then, Goda appeared, dramatically holding Mel's cape. His scaly head bore Mel's fox, which had turned a vivid shade of red and orange. "Here you are, my liege, your cape of freedom!" Goda announced with a flourish.
Mel accepted the cape and looked at Goda with confusion. "Why did you bring my fox?"
Goda carefully removed the fox from his head. "She seemed agitated from being away from you. Notice her color? She's turned blood red."
Mel took his fox back, feeling a pang of guilt. "She turns blood red when she's angry, but right now, she's just hungry. Maybe I shouldn't mention that her favorite food is fish." He sighed, contemplating the potential implications.
Dorian, Elowen, and Draven all exchanged puzzled looks. "When did your fish people arrive? Only black cards were supposed to be invited," Draven asked, his brow furrowing.
Mel scratched his head and raised his black card. "The magic of texting! I invited a few classmates. Was that a problem?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Draven shook his head. "It's fine, but I didn't expect you to bring your whole class."
Elowen glared at the mayor, who was being hoisted on the shoulders of his fish attendants. "So you're the one who made Mel wear that magic suppressor, treating him like some sort of...animal?" she demanded. The mayor, wiping sweat from his brow, offered a sheepish smile. "Yes, I'm afraid so. The townspeople felt uneasy with his powers, so we had to take precautions."
Elowen crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. "Well, I refuse to participate in your tournament, right guys?" She looked at Dorian and Mel, who were now brimming with enthusiasm.
"I'm in! I want to get stronger!" Dorian hissed, his fist clenched tightly. "And I'll compete to show my appreciation for the s'mores!" Mel declared with excitement.
Elowen sighed in resignation. "Should've known."
Mel handed his fox to Elowen. "Please feed her. If you don't, she might just devour my entire kingdom," he said with a playful yet serious tone. Then he followed the mayor, leaving Elowen to deal with the fox.
Draven crossed his arms, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "No one usually wants to join these tournaments because the competition is weak, but with Dorian and Mel in the mix, this should be entertaining!"
He rubbed his hands together, excitement in his eyes. "Let's grab good seats!" He swooped his wing around Elowen, lifting her off the ground and causing her to yelp in surprise.
A few moments later, Mel and Dorian found themselves in the heart of the city, standing in the center of a massive arena that had drawn a crowd. The ring was encircled by a shimmering purple barrier, and Mel tapped it with his knuckles. "This must be a protection orb," he observed quietly.
"Oh wait! That's the boy who cried for his mommy on the first day!" Someone in the crowd laughed, causing the arena to erupt into laughter.
Dorian, with an air of focused determination, unsheathed a dagger adorned with a vampiric symbol. "You know what a protection orb is but not a s'more?" he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Mel's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. "You're using a weapon? I thought this was just for entertainment!" he exclaimed.
Dorian's gaze turned steely, his red eyes narrowing as he fixed Mel with an intense stare. "Melanthius, since I arrived, I've been overshadowed by you. If I want to achieve my goals, I need to surpass both you and Elowen. I hope you understand and don't take it personally."
Mel met Dorian's intense gaze, feeling the weight of his words. "I get it," he said, a mix of respect and concern in his tone. "Let's make this a fair fight."
As the words left his mouth, Dorian lunged at Mel with blinding speed. "1000 Fanged Slices!" he shouted, unleashing a flurry of rapid dagger strikes. The crowd erupted in cheers, convinced Dorian had landed his attack.
"Yes! I got him!" Dorian thought, a triumphant grin forming on his face. But when he turned to see Mel, his eyes went wide with disbelief. Mel was calmly inspecting his robe, unharmed.
"Lucky me! Dorian's so fast, I had to dodge just to make sure my robe didn't get cut," Mel remarked, seemingly oblivious to the danger.
"He dodged it?! And only to save his robe?!" Dorian exclaimed, his frustration boiling over as he tightened his grip on the dagger, anger flaring in his eyes.
"Melanthius, I'd appreciate it if you didn't hold back. Fight me like you would a real villain," Dorian demanded, setting up in a fierce stance, his determination unwavering.
Mel scratched his head, looking puzzled. "Why would I do that? We're friends—I'm not going to hurt you for real."
Dorian's eyes narrowed, his voice low but firm. "That's exactly why you should fight me seriously. If you keep holding back, I'll never know my true strength. I need to push past my limits, and the only way to do that is if you stop treating me like a friend and start treating me like a real opponent."
Mel hesitated, sensing the intensity behind Dorian's words. He could feel the weight of his friend's determination pressing on him, the air between them thick with unspoken challenges. "Alright, Dorian," he finally said, his tone more serious. "If that's what you really want, then I won't hold back."
Dorian lunged at Mel with all his speed, but Mel smoothly reached out, catching Dorian's momentum and flipping him into the air with a flawless Aikido throw. As Dorian sailed upward, he gasped in shock, barely managing to shift into a swarm of bats before crashing to the ground. He reformed a few feet away, breathing heavily, his mind racing.
"He's not even using magic, and yet he threw me like I was nothing… That kind of raw strength—how can I even hope to match up to him?!" Dorian's frustration boiled over, his lip quivering as he bit down hard enough to draw blood, which dripped onto his shirt. "This is infuriating! His father was a overlord, but mine is Dracula! There's no way a boy raised in captivity should be able to beat me!" His voice cracked with desperation, and the blood that spilled from his lip began to boil, evaporating into steam the moment it touched the ground.
As Mel turned to face Dorian, a sudden sting cut across his cheek, so fast he barely registered the movement. His eyes widened in shock as he felt a surge of immense magical pressure radiating from Dorian, more potent than anything he'd sensed before. Dorian's eyes blazed with a fierce determination as he stood up, his dagger glowing with a dark, crimson aura. With a swift slash, he sent a blade of blood-red energy slicing through the air, striking Mel across the face and drawing a cry of pain from him.
Dorian didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his movements a blur, and slashed across Mel's chest, leaving a searing line of pain in its wake.
Dorian's relentless assault left Mel no time to recover. Each slash from Dorian's dagger was precise and brutal, carving deep lines into Mel's flesh. The first strike tore across Mel's cheek, sending a searing pain through his face. Before he could react, another slash came, this time across his chest, the force of the blow driving him back. Mel staggered, but Dorian was already upon him, his movements a blur of speed and fury. The dagger sliced across Mel's arm, then his side, each cut drawing blood and adding to the agony. Dorian's attacks were relentless, fueled by rage and desperation, and Mel could feel his strength waning with each passing second. Despite the pain, Mel struggled to stay on his feet, his mind racing to find a way to counter the vicious onslaught. But Dorian was unyielding, his eyes burning with a dark intensity as he continued to slash at Mel, determined to prove himself in this desperate battle.
"Did you see that? Dorian's going all out!"
"I can't believe Mel's taking this much punishment—how is he still standing?"
"Dorian's like a man possessed! Those slashes are brutal!"
"Mel's in trouble—he's bleeding all over the place!"
"Is this really just a friendly match? It looks like a fight to the death!"
"Come on, Mel! You've got to do something!"
"Dorian's not holding back at all—he really wants to win this!"
"This is getting intense… Are they going to stop the fight?"
"Mel's strong, but Dorian's fighting like he's got nothing to lose!"
"What's Dorian thinking? He's fighting like he's trying to take Mel down for good!"
Goda stood tall, raising his fist. "All of you, shut up! My king isn't losing! Just look!" His voice cut through the crowd, and the murmuring ceased as all eyes turned back to the ring.
Mel slowly removed his robe, revealing a deep cut in the fabric. With deliberate care, he walked to the barrier's edge and set the robe down, almost reverently. Turning back to Dorian, his purple eyes blazed with fury. "Dorian, we're friends, but I've endured a lot in the Bastille—beatings, stolen food, cuts. But no one, not even the worst of them, has ever laid a hand on my robe!" His voice was a low growl, and Dorian, still in his vampiric state, met his glare with tense silence.
Before Dorian could react, Mel moved. In a blur, he kicked Dorian, though no one saw the actual impact. Yet, Dorian was hurled across the ring, slamming into the barrier with a force that made the crowd gasp.
"This is my technique: Cloud Martial Arts; Hidden Cloud," Mel said, his voice cold and controlled. "I figured there might come a time when I couldn't rely on magic, so I developed my own fighting style. What do you think?" His expression was still furious as Dorian, stunned, glanced back at the crater left in the barrier behind him.
"Did you see that? He moved so fast, I couldn't even follow him!"
"He sent Dorian flying without even touching him? What kind of strength is that?"
"Cloud Martial Arts? Never heard of it—looks like it's something Mel came up with himself!"
"Did he say he trained without magic? Who does that in this day and age?"
"That kick was unreal—Dorian didn't even have time to react!"
"I knew he was strong, but this is on a whole different level!"
"Is that really just pure technique? It's almost like he's using some kind of invisible force."
"No wonder he's the top black card. Even without magic, he's a force to be reckoned with!"
"That poor robe though… Dorian might've just signed his own defeat by tearing it."
"Look at the barrier! He hit Dorian so hard it left a crater! What kind of monster strength does this guy have?"
The crowd's reactions heighten the tension, each comment reflecting the awe and fear of Mel's raw power and skill.
Elowen's eyes widened as she watched Mel's display of skill. "I didn't realize he could fight like this without any magic. This is incredible!"
Draven, leaning against the barrier with a smirk, replied, "Told you. Mel's more than just his card rank. He's got raw talent and determination. It's what makes him dangerous."
Elowen frowned, glancing at Dorian struggling to recover. "And what about Dorian? He's pushing himself too hard. He's so desperate to prove himself."
Draven shrugged. "Desperation can be a powerful motivator. But it's clear he's outmatched. Mel's holding back, trying not to seriously hurt him."
Elowen sighed. "This isn't just about proving strength. There's a lot more at stake here. I hope Dorian realizes that before it's too late."
Draven chuckled. "Well, it looks like Mel's showing everyone exactly what he's made of. If Dorian can't keep up, he'll just have to deal with the consequences."
Dorian sprang into action, launching a vicious kick at Mel's head, followed by a swift, cutting slash imbued with his boiling blood. Mel barely managed to block the slash, but the razor-sharp edge still cut into his arms. With a quick sidestep, Mel countered with a rapid barrage of kicks aimed at Dorian's face. "Cloud Step!" Mel shouted as his kicks landed, sending Dorian's head snapping back.
Enraged, Dorian roared and seized Mel by the shoulders. With a fierce growl, he sank his teeth into Mel's neck, his vampiric bite fueled by desperation and anger.
Mel seized Dorian's wrist and hurled him into the cage's wall with a powerful throw. "Not only did he bite me, but he also drank a bit of my blood," Mel muttered, glaring at Dorian. Dorian, now munching on Mel's skin, looked up with a satisfied smirk. "Thanks for the meal, Melanthius," he said, his eyes shifting from red to purple, mirroring Mel's.
Fuming with anger, Mel charged at Dorian, only for Dorian to sidestep with surprising agility. In response, Dorian unleashed a precise flurry of kicks, mirroring Mel's moves with flawless execution. "Cloud Step!" he shouted, perfectly replicating Mel's technique without a single misstep. Mel blocked the oncoming kicks, but Dorian quickly followed up with slashes of boiling blood that sent Mel flying back, his arms now even more severely slashed. "You copied my move!" Mel shouted in disbelief.
Dorian's eyes remained a fierce purple as he sneered. "Vampiric Style: Bitten Mimicry. You think you're the only one with special abilities?" With that, Dorian filled the barrier with a thick cloud of smoke, mirroring Mel's Cloud Magic. Mel spun around, trying to locate him amidst the dense fog.
"Your powers are impressive," Dorian's voice echoed through the smoke, "but I think they look much cooler on me." Suddenly, Dorian leaped high, his dagger poised to strike down on Mel.
But Mel was ready. "Here's a thing that copycats need to know," he muttered, just as Dorian descended, spinning with precision. Mel's heel connected with Dorian's jaw in a brutal kick. "Don't fuck with the original." In one fluid motion, Mel dragged his kick downwards, slamming Dorian into the ground with bone-crunching force.
Dorian groaned, his eyes fading from purple back to their original red. "I'm sorry, Mel…" he murmured before losing consciousness.
As the barrier dissolved, Mel stepped out, his body battered and bloodied. The crowd fell silent, caught between confusion and fear. Mel, trying to catch his breath, smiled wryly. "Sorry, everyone. A man who cusses isn't a gentleman, but at that moment, I couldn't help it. The rage took over." Despite his injuries, he stood tall, his presence commanding even in his bloodied state.
As Mel stepped out of the barrier, the crowd remained hushed, unsure of how to react. Then, a ripple of murmurs began to spread.
"Did you see that kick? He sent Dorian flying!"
"He's not just strong—he's terrifying…"
"I didn't know someone could fight like that without magic."
The mayor, who had been watching with wide eyes, finally found his voice. "By the gods, that boy… he's something else entirely," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Elowen, still processing what she'd just witnessed, clenched her fists. "He… actually did it," she said, her voice a mixture of pride and concern. "But he's pushing himself too far."
Draven, grinning from ear to ear, couldn't contain his excitement. "I knew he had it in him! That's the kind of fight I've been waiting for! Mel's on a whole different level!" He elbowed Elowen playfully. "You're not still mad at him, are you?"
Elowen sighed, shaking her head. "I'm more worried about him."
Goda and the other fish people, who had been anxiously watching from the sidelines, rushed over to Mel. "Our king! You were magnificent!" Goda exclaimed, holding up Mel's robe like a sacred artifact. "You showed them all your true power!"
Another fish person chimed in, "We knew you wouldn't lose! You're the strongest, no matter what!"
Mel, still catching his breath, looked down at his loyal followers with a faint smile. "Thank you, but this wasn't about showing off. It was… necessary." He glanced back at the still-unconscious Dorian, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Sometimes, even friends need to understand boundaries."
The crowd, sensing the depth of what had just transpired, began to cheer more earnestly, though some still whispered among themselves.
"Is that really the kid from the Bastille?"
"Maybe he's more like his father than we thought…"
Ignoring the whispers, Mel turned to the mayor. "Sorry if I scared anyone," he said, his voice steady. "But Dorian needed to know—a man's property is his castle."
The mayor nodded quickly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Of course, of course… Well, I think that concludes our little exhibition. Let's… give both of these young men the respect they deserve!"
As the crowd's cheers grew louder, Mel's fish people surrounded him protectively, their eyes filled with admiration and pride. Despite the pain in his body and the weight of what had just happened, Mel couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. He had defended his honor—and his robe.
Later, Mel was in the infirmary of the city and his shirtless body was bandaged up and he sat up on the bed. He ran his finger over the scar across his face and the nurse came to him. "Drink this," she handed him a cup of medicine which he drank then winced. "Thank you." He said and she nodded.
The nurse gave him a gentle nod, her expression one of quiet admiration. "You're lucky to be alive after a fight like that," she remarked, her tone a mix of awe and concern.
Mel glanced around the room, his eyes landing on a glass of water. After taking a sip, he noticed a framed picture on the wall depicting a massive, menacing spider-like creature. Intrigued, he pointed at it. "What's that?"
The nurse followed his gaze and sighed. "That's the legendary Wild Storm Spider," she explained, her voice tinged with a hint of reverence. "It's the stuff of our town's nightmares, a scary story passed down for generations."
Curiosity piqued, Mel stepped down from the bed and approached the picture. "Why is it called the Wild Storm Spider?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the creature's fearsome form.
The nurse was just about to respond when a knock came at the door. Elowen stepped in, her eyes immediately finding Mel. "How's he doing?" she asked, her tone a mix of concern and relief.
As soon as she spotted him, Elowen stormed over and landed a solid punch to his gut. Mel doubled over, coughing up a bit of blood with an exaggerated wince. "Why did you push yourself so far?!" she scolded, her voice a mix of anger and worry.
Mel rubbed his stomach, then scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I just wanted to give Dorian what he wanted," he said, offering her a lopsided smile. "A fair fight."
"Don't worry, I gave him the same treatment," she said with a half-smile, chuckling softly. "He might not be able to talk to you about it, though—not just because his jaw is broken." She paused, her smile fading slightly. "He feels terrible about what happened. But he did stitch up your robe for you."
"Well, maybe another time, we'll become friends again." He looked at his palm and clenched his fist.