Serenity tensed the air as his long fingers synced with the music from the grand piano. Micheal.... What was his last name again?—was a solemn soul that night as he sat one among no other in the field, his rhythm with the wind.

The moon cast it's dim light like a fabric over him, giving vibrance to his silver hair and an even pale color to his skin. Eyes closed, the whispers from within the shadows didn't seem to have bothered him, but what itched his concentration a bit was the sudden groan from without— the distressing critism of a woman driven for revenge.

He smiled. But his eyes never looked. His hands didn't stop playing. "You found me." He said. "Wrong timing I must confess."

"You bastard! You have murdered my family—" The woman was almost yelling, only if she'd been more farther than a few feets from him. "It's just the right timing for you to die."

Curious, Michael stopped playing. He opened his eyes; a pair of silver sapphires; and dawned on her. She was ascribable, simply on a hunter's armor, her blue hair was messy, her face stained with blood.

Nothing particular at the very least.

"Ah... Let me get you on track." He said. "An oracle prophesied that the cause of my death would be seduction. However, those things on your chest aren't even big enough to seduce me.

How then do you intend killing me?"

Rage. That's all that enclosed in her mannerism as she charged at him. "Go to hell!"

She swung a dagger that had suddenly appeared in her hand, but even the force wasn't enough to break the barrier that was sectioned only a inch from him. She was sent aback, but her anger didn't stop her from charging again as she tried to break through the barrier.

"One mistake every last one you make is letting your emotions overshadow responsibilities." Michael gaze was expressionless. He was fully conscious and aware that a two-foot long dagger dared to impale into his eyes, but he didn't flinch.

"This is a barely a C-Rank barrier. And even an A-Rank like you should be able to break through it, but you've lost diplomacy."

"Shut the fuck up!!" She slashed again, rather more forcefully this time. A dust of light, but that was all there was... The barrier still remained imperishable.

Michael sighed. Was he getting bored? He had taken the time to observe her chest from a even closer distance... But still his self-care could contain the size, he had seen bigger ones that he wasn't even moved by what he saw before him.

Yeah... He was bored.

"Well on the good side, I found someone so powerful and yet so reckless." He smiled. "You'd fit just right in my collection."

The lady still wasn't listening. She had leaned for the strongest blow yet when just quickly, a poker card flashed before her— it was a "A" and a Heart. She blinked to understand, but what she saw instead was a large burrowed hole where her heart used to be.

"So you really are just a physical type. I guess I've overestimated you." Michael's face wried doubt. "But isn't it weird? You're dead and yet I'm unable to see your soul."

Sheer panic. Astonishment. That was all she had on her face before she fell down unconscious to the floor, her blood repainting it's vibrance. Her eyes petrified in shock.

Michael sighed. There was no exact summary to why she had no soul, she was being pulled the string of emotions afterall, like a normal human would.

Why then wasn't her soul—

"What an effort..." He was interrupted by a voice behind him. "Usually my clones do all the work for me, but you were able to beat one of them. I must commend your guts."

Michael was starting to get the hang of it. Apparently, the one he'd just killed wasn't the original, but a clone.

"Ah, I see." He simply replied, craning his neck to face her. She looked almost the same as her clones, except that she had bigger tits. Why did she make that distinction between her and her clones? Was it perhaps morality? If it was, then he'd love to see her give that up.

"I hate that I have to involve directly with my opponents. But if you were able to cause all these trouble without moving a bone, then I should deal with you myself." The woman dissatisfied tone was evidence of her supposed strength.

"You seem really calm." Michael said. "Aren't you the least thirsty for revenge?"

"I am by all means, but it's like you said... I can't let emotions overshadow my responsibilities." There was a grimace on her face. "Besides— No one said I won't be getting vengeance."

Maybe he heard her right, or maybe he was just slowly falling asleep. But Michael realized he had suddenly dropped his guard the moment he saw her chest. He dropped to the floor, unable to resist the sleep that clouded his eyes.

What was this skill? He wanted it by all means. But what were the chances he'd wake up safe or even at all?

"I just prefer my things slow-paced."

The last thing Michael saw was a woman before him. No— a delicate pair of tits.