Azrael wasn't surprised that the decision ultimately fell to him. The weight of expectation from all parties present hung heavy in the air, but his choice had already crystallized in his mind.
After a mont of contemplative silence, he voiced his verdict with quiet confidence. "Very well. I accept."
The compensation offered by the Mizuno family held little appeal for him, his recent Association rewards had left him with more materials than he could reasonably use, and additional wealth seed redundant at this point. What truly motivated his acceptance was the opportunity to witness Crowley's inevitable breakdown when reality shattered his delusions of superiority.
As for potential retaliation from the Mizuno family afterward, Azrael found such concerns laughable. Did they truly believe they hadn't courted death quickly enough already? Their current predicant should have taught them the futility of opposing soone under Master Lucian's protection.
Moreover, Azrael's solitary status provided natural insulation against most forms of revenge. The Mizuno family couldn't target non-existent relatives, and any attempt to threaten Alice would require suicidal levels of desperation. Even underhanded tactics seed implausible, the only active criminal organization he knew of in Pixar was the Crimson Oath Society, and ironically, he held mbership in that very group.
If such a scenario ever materialized, he'd relish observing the Mizuno family's reaction to that particular revelation.
The announcent of his decision triggered varied responses from those present.
Ottarl hadn't expected Azrael to accept the challenge, his weathered features showing genuine surprise at this developnt. anwhile, Crowley could barely contain his euphoric reaction to this unexpected opportunity.
Perfect, Crowley thought with savage satisfaction. My previous defeat only occurred because all my cards except ng Po were on cooldown periods. This ti, I'll make him regret ever crossing .
In his twisted rationalization, the humiliating loss had resulted purely from unfamiliarity with his opponent's abilities and unfortunate timing. With proper preparation and full access to his card roster, victory seed inevitable.
Despite the intense scrutiny from Master Lucian's cold gaze, Crowley managed to conceal his dark emotions behind a mask of grudging respect. "Thank you, Student Azrael, for granting this opportunity for redemption."
He paused, adding with calculated humility, "Even if I erge victorious, the compensation promised will be honored in full."
Flexibility distinguishes true n from petty children, Crowley reflected silently. Though his heart burned with rage, jealousy, sha, and resentnt, the prospect of crushing Azrael publicly in the near future filled him with intoxicating anticipation.
Observing this exchange from the sidelines, Zidaine felt resigned acceptance settle over him. The Mizuno family had sohow managed to escape complete annihilation once again, though he questioned the wisdom of their chosen path.
While Azrael held the distinction of being Master Lucian's disciple, Zidaine remained skeptical about the young man's chances in formal combat. His intelligence networks had provided detailed assessnts of Crowley's capabilities, and the Wu heir had maintained Silver-level status for considerably longer than his opponent.
From a purely analytical perspective, Crowley's victory seed predetermined. I wonder why Master Lucian agreed to such theatrical nonsense, Zidaine mused with professional detachnt. Perhaps age is finally affecting his judgnt.
He shrugged ntally, deciding the outco held little relevance to his broader responsibilities. If Master Lucian hadn't intervened today, this entire situation would have remained beneath his notice.
Master Lucian, however, possessed entirely different expectations based on his recent evaluation of his disciple's true capabilities. Having witnessed Azrael's remarkable card collection and combat potential firsthand, he found the Mizuno family's confidence genuinely amusing.
"The arrangents are settled," Master Lucian announced with finality. "You'll receive notification of the ti and venue shortly."
Three days elapsed with remarkable speed. Azrael adjusted his formal attire with practiced precision before departing for the Pixar Lore Cardian Dueling Center under Shadowkhan escort.
Upon arrival, he discovered the venue packed beyond capacity with eager spectators. The massive crowds suggested this event had captured public attention far beyond normal academic competitions.
"Father, do you suppose Master Lucian's advanced age has affected his ntal faculties?" Crowley whispered to Ottarl as they observed the elaborate preparations surrounding the dueling platform.
The father and son truly hadn't anticipated Master Lucian would orchestrate such a public spectacle. Today's attendance roster included virtually every influential figure in Pixar, with many prominent faces from across the province visible in the premium seating areas.
Most significantly, live broadcasts were being transmitted throughout Greenridge Province, ensuring their confrontation would reach audiences across the entire region.
"What if that boy attempts to renege on our agreent after losing?" Crowley asked with genuine concern.
While he appreciated Master Lucian's decision to create such a grand stage, assuming it reflected misplaced confidence rather than strategic thinking, he worried about potential complications if the victory proved hollow.
Ottarl adjusted his grip on his walking cane, his voice carrying cold satisfaction. "His teacher clearly believes in his chances of victory."
"Are you confident in your abilities?"
Crowley's lips curved in a bloodthirsty smile that spoke volus about his intentions. "That pathetic child will never defeat again."
The massive audience only heightened his anticipation. If Master Lucian truly intended to honor their agreent rather than seeking escape clauses, this public humiliation would prove even more satisfying than private revenge.
I'll demonstrate to Master Lucian exactly how foolish his choice of disciple has been, Crowley thought with vicious glee. I am the superior practitioner! I deserve recognition!
The possibility of Azrael's victory never entered his calculations. Such an outco seed too absurd to warrant consideration.
In the prestigious first row of the observation deck, Master Lucian and Zidaine occupied seats alongside other dignitaries including the Pixar Association President and the Chancellor of Cambridge University.
"Old friend, what prompted this sudden theatrical display?" the Cambridge Chancellor inquired with obvious curiosity.
Having remained unaware of the personal vendetta between Azrael and the Mizuno family, the university administrator found this elaborate production puzzling.
Master Lucian shook his head with mysterious amusent. "All will beco clear once the combat begins."
The Chancellor blinked in surprise. "You're being remarkably secretive about this."
A representative from Riverstone University suddenly interjected, "I'm familiar with Master Lucian's disciple, Azrael. During a previous inter-school battle club exhibition, his abilities resulted in significant structural damage to our facilities."
"Really?" The Cambridge Chancellor's interest peaked imdiately. "Chisaki never ntioned such an incident to ."
Despite acknowledging Azrael's destructive potential, the Riverstone representative maintained doubts about the upcoming contest's outco. After all, Crowley's reputation for arrogance was matched only by his genuine combat capabilities.
I still don't understand Master Lucian's motivations here, the representative mused silently.
Zidaine chose to remain silent on the subject, having decided that discretion served his interests better than unnecessary comntary. In his assessnt, Master Lucian was attempting to salvage his disciple's dignity through public relations rather than genuine confidence.
After all, isn't it perfectly normal for a recently advanced Silver-level practitioner to lose against soone of Crowley's experience? Zidaine rationalized with barely concealed disdain. At least Master Lucian is providing face-saving explanations for the inevitable defeat.
Such political maneuvering struck him as distastefully manipulative, though hardly unexpected from Association leadership.
anwhile, in Cambridge University's Battle Club facilities, Oliver and his teammates had gathered under Chisaki's supervision to observe the broadcast.
"Brother Oliver, who do you predict will erge victorious?" Sun-Myun asked with deceptive casualness, though his eyes glead with barely suppressed malice.
His gaze lingered on Crowley's pre-match warmup routine before returning to his teammates with calculated interest.
Oliver naturally recognized Crowley's reputation, but mories of Azrael's devastating performance during their previous encounter left him genuinely uncertain. "Crowley should win," he said hesitantly, "though I'm not entirely confident in that assessnt."
His hesitation stemd from tactical analysis rather than wishful thinking. If Azrael's signature beam attack failed to connect with its target, his combat options beca severely limited against a prepared opponent.
Sun-Myun's mood lifted imdiately upon hearing this tentative prediction, though he maintained his facade of supportive concern. "It would be wonderful if Azrael could achieve victory."
"Though losing wouldn't necessarily reflect poorly on him, after all, Brother Oliver, even you might struggle against Crowley."
The backhanded comparison was delivered with a aningful glance toward Choi-Gyu, whose expression of disgust provided exactly the reaction Sun-Myun had hoped to provoke.
Oliver fixed his teammate with a cold stare, recognizing the deliberate provocation behind the seemingly innocent comnt.
Far away in Velkairos, Gabi watched the live broadcast alongside her father Gustav, her emotions churning with complex uncertainty.
After several minutes of silent observation, she finally voiced her growing confusion. "Father, are you absolutely certain this Azrael is the sa person I knew in school?"
Gustav nodded solemnly, his weathered features reflecting the gravity of the situation. "He's definitely your forr classmate."
Gabi drew a sharp breath as the implications struck her. "How is he already Silver-level? Father, you're only Gold-level yourself."
Gustav remained silent for a long mont, processing the remarkable advancent tiline they were witnessing. "The younger generation surpasses the older, though I admit Azrael's progress exceeds even my most optimistic projections. Still, rapid advancent should be celebrated rather than questioned."
Gabi rolled her eyes at her father's philosophical deflection. "Then who do you think will win?"
Gustav considered the question carefully before responding with asured analysis. "Based on the tiline, Azrael likely achieved Silver-level status during the winter break, aning his advancent is still quite recent. While I'm unfamiliar with his opponent's specific capabilities, the introductory materials suggest Crowley has maintained Silver-level for considerably longer."
"Although I genuinely hope Azrael can secure victory, rational assessnt suggests Crowley holds significant advantages."
Hearing this pessimistic evaluation, Gabi's cheeks puffed with indignant determination. "I don't care about rational assessnts! I believe Azrael will win!"
Gustav adjusted his glasses with helpless affection, choosing to accommodate his daughter's optimism. "Very well then, Azrael will erge victorious."
Despite his acquiescence, Gustav found himself secretly hoping his initial analysis would prove incorrect. The prospect of witnessing such an unexpected upset held genuine appeal.
Back at the Pixar Lore Cardian Dueling Center, Azrael made his entrance to thunderous applause and intense scrutiny from the assembled crowd.
The stage was set for a confrontation that would reshape public perception of both combatants, though only one participant truly understood the magnitude of what was about to unfold.
As he walked calmly toward the dueling platform, Azrael felt no nervousness, only quiet anticipation for the mont when Crowley's delusions would collide with harsh reality.
The ti for words had passed. Now, only actions would determine the truth.
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