Journey of the Scholar

Suddenly, a sudden commotion erupted from the end of the street. Ruchir turned to see Garret and Robert stumbling toward them, bickering loudly and shoving each other like two squabbling children.

"I told you it was your fault, you brainless dolt!" Garret yelled, pushing Robert with enough force that he nearly toppled over.

Robert, not to be outdone, retaliated with equal fervor. "Oh, sure! Blame me for your own stupidity, you overgrown ape!"

The two of them continued to throw insults at each other, completely oblivious to the spectacle they were making.

It was clear from their disheveled appearance that they'd been at this for a while, and it didn't look like they planned on stopping anytime soon.

Alice, watching the scene unfold, raised an eyebrow and sighed. "Some kids never grow up, do they?"

Garret, hearing Alice's comment, spun around with a furious expression. "Who are you calling a kid, huh? You think you're so mature just because you're not in a brawl?"

Alice crossed her arms, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Well, I'm not the one throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the street. Maybe you should save the fighting for someone who cares?"

That did it. Garret's face turned beet red, and without thinking, he lunged at Alice. "Why, you—!"

Before Garret could reach her, Alice expertly sidestepped him, causing Garret to crash into a nearby fruit cart instead.

Apples and oranges went flying everywhere, and the vendor let out an indignant shout as Garret struggled to disentangle himself from the mess.

Robert, now laughing hysterically at Garret's misfortune, was too distracted to notice when Alice turned her gaze on him. "And what's so funny, Robert? You're not exactly the picture of maturity either."

Robert tried to stop laughing, but the sight of Garret covered in fruit juice was too much. "I— I can't— Garret, you look—"

But before he could finish, Garret, still dripping with fruit pulp, launched himself at Robert, yelling, "I'll give you something to laugh about!"

The two of them quickly descended into a wrestling match right there in the middle of the street, rolling around and trading punches that, while meant to be serious, only looked ridiculous to anyone watching.

The onlookers couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

Alice shook her head, her smirk growing wider. "Honestly, it's like they're still five years old."

Just as Garret managed to pin Robert down, Ruchir decided enough was enough. He stepped forward with an exasperated sigh and grabbed both of them by the collars, lifting them off each other.

"Alright, that's enough, you two," Ruchir said sternly, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to suppress a grin. "You're supposed to be catchers, not circus performers."

Garret, still fuming, tried to wriggle free. "But she started it!"

"Did not!" Alice retorted, crossing her arms in defiance.

Ruchir sighed again, shaking his head. "You're all acting like children. Let's not forget we're in the middle of the capital, okay? We have a reputation to uphold."

Garret and Robert both muttered something under their breath, but they didn't resist as Ruchir set them back on their feet. Alice, looking entirely too pleased with herself, flashed Ruchir a cheeky grin.

"Thanks for the assist, Ruchir. I think I could have handled them, but it's nice to know you've got my back."

Ruchir rolled his eyes, releasing his hold on Garret and Robert. "I'm sure you could've, Alice. But let's save the brawls for the training grounds next time, okay?"

Garret, still looking grumpy, muttered, "She's just lucky I didn't take her down."

"Oh, please," Alice shot back. "You couldn't take me down even if you tried."

Ruchir stepped between them again, holding up his hands. "Okay, that's enough from everyone. Let's get out of here before we cause any more trouble."

With a final glare at Alice, Garret muttered something unintelligible and stalked off, Robert following closely behind while still chuckling. Ruchir and Alice exchanged a look, both shaking their heads.

"Well," Ruchir said, rubbing the back of his neck, "that was... eventful."

Alice just laughed, a light, carefree sound. "What can I say? We make a great team of chaos."

Ruchir couldn't help but smile as they all walked off, the scene behind them finally calming down. As chaotic as it had been, there was something endearing about their little group.

_____

Under the dim light of a waning moon in Faze Hillland, the air was thick with the scent of blood and the clang of clashing weapons.

The night echoed with the frenzied laughter of the Sickle Prince, the pride of the Sky Demon Cult, as he tore through the ranks of martial artists like a hurricane sweeping through a fragile forest.

His black robes, embroidered with the sigil of the cult, billowed behind him as he moved with a deadly grace, a sickle in each hand, gleaming with a menacing red aura.

The group of twenty to thirty martial artists, all adorned with jade coroneted emblems on their clothing, struggled to hold their ground.

They were the elite of the renowned Jade Family, a powerful clan known for their martial prowess and influence in the Four Spirit Holy City.

But tonight, their skills and reputations were being tested against a force of nature—against the Sickle Prince, who seemed to thrive in the chaos of battle.

"Hah! Is this all you Jade bastards amount to?" The Sickle Prince's voice rang out, filled with manic glee. He twirled his sickles, sending arcs of crimson energy slicing through the air, cutting down two more warriors who dared to challenge him. "I expected more from a family that claims to be so powerful!"

Raoul Jade, the young master of the Jade Family, stood behind the remaining guards, his once-pristine robes now stained with his own blood.

His chest heaved with the effort of simply staying upright, and his vision blurred as exhaustion and blood loss took their toll. The guards around him fought desperately to protect him, but even they were starting to falter under the relentless onslaught.

Raoul clenched his fists, frustration and fear twisting his expression. Who would have thought the Sickle Prince had already broken through to the Supernatural realm?

The realization struck him like a cold dagger. A prodigy like the Sickle Prince, who had amassed so much power and skill, was terrifying enough in the Mortal realm.

But now, as a Supernatural being, he was a monster—a predator that the Jade Family had never anticipated facing so soon.

The analogy of the jungle was fitting. In the world of martial artists, the strong were like apex predators, ruling over their domains with unquestionable might.

The Jade Family had always been the dominant force, the lions of their territory.

But tonight, they were facing something far more dangerous—a beast that thrived on bloodlust and chaos, a creature that didn't just hunt to survive but for the sheer thrill of the kill.

"Come on! Give me more!" The Sickle Prince howled with laughter as he slashed through another wave of attackers. His movements were a blur, his sickles leaving trails of dark energy in their wake.

Each strike was precise and lethal, claiming the lives of the Jade warriors with ruthless efficiency.

The martial artists tried to regroup, to form some semblance of a defense, but it was like trying to stem a tide with bare hands.

The Sickle Prince moved through them like a wolf among sheep, his eyes gleaming with an unholy light. To him, this wasn't just a battle—it was a game, a twisted form of entertainment where he was both the player and the executioner.

Raoul Jade's breath hitched as he watched another of his guards fall, his head rolling across the ground in a sickening display. He was cornered, outmatched, and out of options.

The weight of his family's legacy pressed down on him, the realization that he might be the last of his line filling him with dread. But what could he do against a monster like the Sickle Prince?

A man who had surpassed the very limits of human strength and ascended to a level where the laws of the mortal realm no longer applied?

The answer was simple: nothing.

As the battle raged on, it became clear that this was not a fight—it was a massacre. The Jade Family's elite troops, who had once been the pride of their clan, were reduced to mere fodder before the Sickle Prince's might.

The ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen, their blood soaking into the earth, staining it a dark, ominous red.

"Is this really all the Jade Family can muster?" The Sickle Prince's voice dripped with mockery as he flicked the blood from his sickles.

His eyes locked onto Raoul, who was now the last man standing. "Pathetic. I expected more from the so-called elite."

Raoul could only stare in horror as the Sickle Prince approached him, each step measured and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

The sickles in his hands gleamed with a malevolent light, the dark energy swirling around them like a shroud of death.

"Any last words, young master?" The Sickle Prince's voice was low and taunting, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Or will you simply die like the rest of your worthless family?"

Raoul opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His throat was dry, his mind a whirl of fear and despair.

The image of his father, his siblings, all of them flashed before his eyes, and he wondered if they would ever know what had happened to him. Would they mourn him? Or would they simply move on, as if he had never existed?

But before he could find an answer, the Sickle Prince struck.

With a single, fluid motion, the Sickle Prince's sickles tore through Raoul's defenses, slicing through his body with brutal efficiency.

Raoul's eyes widened in shock as the pain hit him, searing through his nerves like fire. He staggered back, blood pouring from the wound, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down.

The Sickle Prince watched with satisfaction as Raoul crumpled to the ground, his life force ebbing away with each passing second. "And so ends the tale of the Jade Family's so-called prodigy," he muttered, his voice devoid of any emotion.

But before Raoul could draw his last breath, the Sickle Prince was already moving on, his attention shifting to the remaining survivors.

He would leave no one alive, no witnesses to tell the tale of what had happened here tonight.

The Jade Family would be nothing more than a memory, a footnote in the annals of history, crushed beneath the heel of the Sky Demon Cult.

When the battle finally ended, the hill was silent, save for the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

The bodies of the Jade Family's warriors lay scattered across the ground, their lifeless eyes staring up at the sky as if seeking some final solace in the stars above.

But there was none to be found.

Raoul Jade's body was gone, his fate unknown. Perhaps he had been spirited away in the chaos, or perhaps his remains were among the countless dead, indistinguishable from the others.

Whatever the case, the news of this massacre would send shockwaves through the Four Spirit Holy City. The Jade Family had been one of the pillars of the city's strength, and now they were no more.

The Sickle Prince, drenched in blood and victorious, stood atop the hill, his sickles hanging loosely at his sides. He took a deep breath, savoring the scent of death that lingered in the air, and a twisted smile spread across his face.

"This is only the beginning," he whispered to himself, his voice carrying on the wind. "The world will tremble before the might of the Sky Demon Cult."

And with that, he vanished into the night, leaving behind only death and destruction in his wake.

The next day, when news of the massacre reached the Four Spirit Holy City, it would be met with disbelief and horror. The Jade Family Elite Troop, a symbol of power and stability, had been decimated in a single night. And the man responsible—the Sickle Prince—would be known as a force to be reckoned with, a harbinger of the chaos yet to come.