The voice echoed through the room, carrying with it an icy quality. The voice was quiet, echoing through the overly blue room as if it had been spoken right beside his ear.
Perseus shivered uncontrollably, claws of fear tearing into his heart with ferocious intensity, every passing second drowning him deeper into the pits of despair.
Because, unlike his roommate, Perseus was a nice and kind guy. Never once had he actively sought violence as the solution.
And it was exactly because of this, his personality, that Perseus was close to collapsing, even if he couldn’t move.
Help me...someone...
Alas, he couldn’t open his mouth, nor could he jump from the window. Snow fell over his head like slow drizzling rain, wet and cold.
Eyes shaking, Perseus cast a tentative look at the podium, where a pool of blood was slowly accumulating. The crimson filth staining his fellow students was moving towards the growing pool as if it were alive.
The crimson river moved undeterred, the falling snow adding color to the dark liquid. He could feel the blood rushing beneath his feet, gushing forward like a river.
Perseus shivered again.
No sound was made after the voice had spoken. And even if someone had enough courage to go speak, they were restricted by some unknown force again. The brief moment of respite had already finished.
But was it even respite in the first place? Or did that boy, Snow, just want us to feel hope so that he could snatch it away?
Perseus’s crimson eyes moved towards the podium again, and this time, the pool of blood was swirling like a vortex, moving in a wide circle, taking up nearly the entire podium.
And just a little away from the vortex...was the dead body of the instructor.
What in the name of God...
Nausea took over his mind like a frenzied beast, the invisible claws around his heart tightening, nearly crushing his spirit.
The instructor’s body was like a lifeless husk, her skin devoid of color, pale as a vampire. The hole in her forehead had widened, as if someone had physically torn it open.
It stretched through nearly her entire skull, from the top of her scalp to her nose, leaking with blood.
What sick monster would do something like that? Perseus couldn’t help but wonder, his mouth agape.
Even after diverting his eyes from the horrid scene, the image was still in front of his eyes. Not only that, there were hundreds of other images too.
With a start, Perseus realized they were memories...memories of the body he now inhabited. He was slowly going through the entire life of the boy called "Alexander Azrael."
Ahh...so I got transmigrated into [Angel Battle]...such rotten luck.
Sadly, Perseus couldn’t lament on his cursed fate as the whirlpool started moving faster and faster, cutting through the chilling wind and falling snow.
It churned and bubbled as the blood boiled, the putrid smell making Perseus scrunch his nose in disgust. It was horrid, thick, and metallic.
And then, all of a sudden, the blood stopped moving, coming to a complete halt. Seconds passed in grim anticipation, every eye fixated on the phenomenon taking place in their classroom.
No more snow fell. The wind stopped moving, and the temperature rose sharply.
A hand crawled out of the pool of blood, covered by slick blood, glossy black flesh visible beneath the crimson.
The hands clenched the air and miraculously pushed upwards. The rest of the body followed shortly after, and the pool of blood dispersed, turning back into harmless liquid.
"Wooh! That sure took a lot of time. Did I disappoint you, my dear main characters?"
Silence followed, but as if the figure had predicted the response, it only chuckled softly. It placed a hand over its face, gaps in fingers revealing eyes that changed color every instant.
One moment they would be crimson, the next blazing like the sun, followed by the calm blue of the ocean. Its oyxn hair was slicked back, tied in a bun.
"Well, this sure is boring. I expected a more... enthusiastic response to my arrival."
It was wearing an immaculate suit fit to its tall body. A black jacket over a white dress shirt, paired with matching pants.
The figure moved a glove-covered hand towards its neck, adjusting its tie. It was unmistakably male, but Perseus refused to acknowledge that thing as a man.
Hell, he refused to acknowledge that thing as human. No human, insane or not, would attack children while treating everything like a theater.
Is this the end? Am I going to be shot by a maniac in a suit? No...someone must have heard the previous gunshots...surely.
Not that Perseus thought about it...why was the man using a gun instead of magic? It certainly would be quieter than the pistol he had used before.
"Ooh, an Azrael. How lucky."
Perseus instantly went still, body shivering uncontrollably. The voice was right beside his ear, whispering like a Demon of Temptation.
Like a creaky machine, Perseus turned his head, only to find two orbs of obsidian staring back at him. There was something about the man’s eyes, something insane.
The quality of a serial killer. He’s already killed me in a hundred different ways inside his mind.
After taking in the fear in Perseus’s eyes, the man moved away, thoroughly satisfied.
But Perseus, now fused with Alexander, couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief.
Because the person the man had moved towards wasn’t some random classmate of his, no. It was someone much closer to him.
Willow!
His fiancée and childhood friend, Willow Israfel.
A terrifying smile appeared on the man’s face, lips curling up in delight.
He moved closer, face an inch from Willow’s own.
Much like Alexander, Willow was shaking in her seat. Only that it wasn’t because of fear—though it was undoubtedly present—but instead because of hatred.
"Young heiress of Israfel, are you afraid?"
The man leaned closer and whispered in Willow’s ears, the sound only heard by three people.
"Perchance...is it because of your curse?"