Elijah's mind buzzed with murderous intent. His hatred for Officer Allan, the man who had taken Oliver from him, burned like a raging inferno. A thousand scenarios played out in his head: poisoning him, ambushing him, burning him alive with magic. But as much as his heart screamed for vengeance, his rational side held him back.
With his current abilities, Elijah wouldn't stand a chance. Allan was a high-ranking officer, someone who had perfected his craft over decades.
No, patience was key.
He would wait for the right moment, just as a patient worm catches the tastiest bird.
His dark thoughts were interrupted when he spotted a street vendor grilling barbecue at a side stall. The smoke curled into the crisp air, carrying with it the savory aroma of spiced meat.
For a fleeting moment, he thought of Kieran, who had jokingly asked him to bring back barbecue. He walked to the stall, staring blankly at the variety of skewers on display—beef, squid, shrimp.
The memories hit him hard. Oliver.
This was the place where he and Oliver used to come after school. They would try everything from grilled meat to fried dumplings, laughing over nothing. Oliver had always been the one to recommend what Elijah should eat, teasing him for being too picky.
Oliver. The name echoed in his mind, bringing with it a wave of misery.
Elijah clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as a hollow ache filled his chest. The vendor, a kind-looking woman in her late forties, noticed his somber expression. "What would you like, young man?"
"Wrap everything," Elijah said, his voice distant and hollow.
The vendor worked quickly, neatly packing every skewer and snack available. She handed him the bags with a gentle smile. "That'll be two silver coins," she said.
Elijah reached for his pouch, but before he could pull out the money, the vendor shook her head. "You look like you're going through a tough time," she said softly. "Consider this my treat."
Her words startled him. Elijah's eyes wavered, and for a brief moment, his icy demeanor cracked. "Thank you," he said, his voice quieter than a whisper.
He rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a single gold coin, worth far more than the meal. "I can't accept such kindness for free," he said, placing the coin on the counter. One gold coin equaled fifteen silver coins, and one silver coin was worth twenty copper coins.
He doesn't deserve such kindness.
Before the vendor could protest, he vanished into the distance, using his Reduce Gravity technique to leave without a trace.
An hour later, Elijah arrived back at camp. The rain had cleared, and the sun shone brightly, drying the damp ground. As he entered the dorm, he found Kieran sprawled on the couch, snoring lightly, while Visconti was seated in an armchair, reading a thick book.
"What's that?" Visconti asked, glancing at the bags in Elijah's hands.
"Food," Elijah replied tersely.
At the mention of food, Kieran stirred. His eyes snapped open as he sniffed the air. "Barbecue?" he exclaimed, jumping off the couch with a newfound energy.
He grabbed some plates from the kitchen and began unloading the food. The variety was staggering—beef, squid, shrimp skewers, fries, dumplings, and more.
"You bought the whole stall!" Kieran joked, his eyes sparkling. "How are we supposed to finish all this?"
Visconti, however, looked at the food in clear disdain. "What's that?" he asked, his voice dripping with disapproval.
"Street food," Kieran replied, grabbing a skewer. "Don't tell me you've never tried it?"
"Of course not," Visconti said with a scoff. "Why would I eat something so unhygienic and unhealthy?"
Kieran rolled his eyes. "How picky. You're missing out." He picked up a fry and held it out. "Here, try this. It's made from potatoes."
Visconti grimaced. "Why would I eat that?"
"Just eat the damn fry," Kieran snapped.
With great reluctance, Visconti took the fry and bit into it. His eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked his reaction. "It's… tolerable," he said.
Kieran grinned. "See? Told you! Now try this." He handed him a dumpling.
Despite his protests, Visconti eventually gave in, sampling each item as Kieran and Elijah pushed more food onto his plate. He grumbled and complained, but by the end, his plate was clean.
As they ate, the room fell into a companionable silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils and Kieran's occasional quips.
Then, Kieran leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "The Corps killed the closest thing I had to a family," he said suddenly, his tone heavy.
Elijah and Visconti froze, startled by the sudden confession.
Kieran took a deep breath, his fists clenching. "I can't forget that. I don't want to become one of them."
"What happened?" Visconti asked cautiously.
Kieran's jaw tightened. "One of the Corps officer killed my family. Officer Allan said it was a 'necessary sacrifice for the greater good." Kieran's voice grew bitter. "But my family was not a 'necessary sacrifice."
The room grew somber. Kieran's usual lighthearted demeanor had vanished, replaced by raw pain.
"You two may not understand this now," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "Because they haven't taken someone you love yet. But I hope the Corps never does. Because it's something you shouldn't ever have to experience."
Elijah looked down, his throat tightening. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
"The system feels unfair, doesn't it?" Kieran said, his voice quieter now. "Hey, do you know what they do to Espers who are too weak for the Corps to use?"
"What?" Elijah and Visconti asked simultaneously.
"They execute them," Kieran said flatly.
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Kieran shook his head. "They call it a 'humane disposal.' They say it's better than letting weak Espers become rogues or fall into villainy. But it's murder. Plain and simple."
Elijah's fists clenched under the table. His mind raced with thoughts of Oliver. Had he been deemed "too weak"? Was that why he was missing?
Kieran sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The Corps isn't just flawed—it's broken. And the more I see, the more I realize it can't be fixed."
Silence settled over them again, heavier this time. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, grappling with the grim reality of the world they were a part of.
---
Later that night, Elijah sat alone in his room, staring at the lifeless gray magic stone on his desk. The day's events replayed in his mind: the vendor's kindness, Kieran's confession, and the harsh truth about the Corps.
He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. The Corps had taken Oliver from him. Whether through lies, manipulation, or outright violence, they had stolen the person he cared about most.
Elijah's hands trembled as he whispered, "I'll wait for the right time. But when that time comes…"
His eyes glowed faintly, a dangerous light reflecting his growing resolve. "…I'll burn it all down."