And so, Ascalon and Manfred officially became Lucifer’s disciples—the closed-door apprentices of a Sanguine Prince.
Although the news didn’t spread widely throughout Kazdel or the Sarkaz clans, it still found its way to the ears of the Royal Court leaders.
According to rumors, Theresa had “accidentally” let it slip while gossiping with Ramaelian about relationships.
Ramaelian then passed it to the King of the Scavengers, who in turn shared it with the Damazti Cluster.
By the time the story reached the Sanguinarch’s ears, it had mutated into: Lucifer was taking in disciples to establish his own faction, expanding his power and reputation with the ultimate goal of overthrowing the conservative establishment led by the Sanguinarch himself.
Hearing this, Duq’arael was utterly dismissive.
He figured the green-haired freak of the Damazti Cluster must be losing its mind to be telling him jokes like this.
Others might not know what Lucifer was really like, but how could Duq’arael not know?
A freelancer who wouldn’t move a muscle unless ordered by the Royal Court or the Demon King herself, who spent every single day slacking off at home—this guy was going to plot a rebellion to overthrow him?
Duq’arael could laugh himself awake from a dream just thinking about it.
But dismissive as he was, the fact that Lucifer had taken in two students was eventually confirmed by Theresis.
Having nothing better to do, the Sanguinarch decided to pay a long-overdue visit to Lucifer’s estate.
“So, these are the two students you’ve taken under your wing?”
Duq’arael appraised the two young Sarkaz standing at attention, his expression unreadable.
After a long silence, he let out a cold chuckle.
“Very well.
It would be rather embarrassing for one of my Princes to not even have a decent entourage.”
Duq’arael used to find Lucifer’s solitary lifestyle odd for a Sanguine.
It was only later that he realized Lucifer was just like him—it wasn’t that they couldn’t have servants, they simply chose not to.
Who would want to drag a bunch of dead weight around all day?
But Ascalon and Manfred were different.
Even the King of the Scavengers had praised their potential.
They were bound to become someone important in the future.
“The Sanguinarch…”
“What a terrifying presence…
The scent of blood is so heavy…”
Being still young, Manfred and Ascalon struggled to withstand Duq’arael’s unmasked pressure.
Manfred had heard of the Sanguinarch’s fearsome reputation back in the Military Commission; people spoke of him with absolute dread.
Had Manfred not enjoyed a few days of “newbie protection” at Lucifer’s place, his knees would have probably given out the moment he saw the Sanguinarch.
As for Ascalon, her “Ascalon-sense” was ringing alarm bells.
She couldn’t tell who was stronger between Duq’arael and Lucifer, but the Sanguinarch was clearly far more ruthless and cruel.
But when they saw Lucifer looking completely at ease, even casually pouring red wine for the Sanguinarch, they couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of admiration.
As expected of Lucifer!
He easily did what they could never do!
We truly admire you, Master Lucifer!
However, Duq’arael looked at the red wine in front of him and frowned.
“That cheap, bitter stuff again.
You might as well offer it to that old fool Fremont.”
Duq’arael narrowed his eyes.
A ribbon of blood extended from his cloak, wrapping around a bottle of Liberi blood wine on Lucifer’s cabinet and pulling it over.
Despite Lucifer’s many eccentricities, Duq’arael had to admit that the man’s creations had their merits.
Since the war ended, Lucifer had spent some time crafting a blood wine made by blending blood with a bit of alcohol.
While it discarded the purity of drinking raw blood, it tasted much better and still effectively satisfied a Sanguine’s thirst.
“You’re such a picky eater.
Seriously, Duq’arael, you’ve got no class.”
“So what?”
“Fine, I got nothing to say.”
Lucifer was the first to surrender.
After all, the Sanguinarch was picky enough to categorize the blood of their fellow Sarkaz into different tiers of quality.
Adhering to the principle that a bottle opened must not go to waste, Lucifer took the rest of the red wine for himself.
As for Ascalon and Manfred?
Adults were drinking; kids didn’t need to join in.
Off they went.
Watching the two Sanguines—who were far more dangerous than any serial killer—banter back and forth, Ascalon and Manfred exchanged a look, both sensing the other’s confusion.
Did these two actually act like children behind closed doors?
But after seeing the extreme example that was the Sanguinarch, they finally understood Theresa’s comment about Lucifer being an anomaly among Sanguines.
Because Lucifer…
he was kind.
Even Theresa and the King of the Scavengers had never met such an elegant and easygoing Sanguine before.
It was entirely thanks to his peers making him look good by comparison.
Lucifer single-handedly raised the reputation of the entire Sanguine race among the Royal Courts, earning the approval of everyone except the Sanguinarch himself.
“Train those two little ones well.
Try to get them to the level of Theresis and Theresa.”
“Well, now the pressure’s on me.”
Lucifer wondered if the Sanguinarch had had one too many drinks recently and was losing his mind.
Manfred’s potential wasn’t bad, and Ascalon’s talent was even better.
Like the twin siblings, they were also commoner Goliaths without royal lineage.
But what kind of league were Theresis and Theresa in?
They were practically walking deus ex machinas.
Their combat strength, which rivaled that of Court leaders, could pull off absolute miracles.
Could Manfred and Ascalon match that?
No way.
They just didn’t have that kind of ability.
Of course, Duq’arael knew that the twins’ talent was once-in-a-century tier even in Kazdel.
He was merely teasing Lucifer.
“These are the first subordinates my Prince has taken in, after all.
Naturally, I would pay them some attention.”
Duq’arael turned his gaze toward Ascalon and Manfred.
But they only felt a deep, chilling dread radiating from the Sanguinarch’s crimson eyes.
“Then how about I hand them over to you to train?”
“?”
Before Duq’arael could even reply, Ascalon and Manfred, treated like some buy-one-get-one-free commodities, panicked.
They stared at Lucifer in shock, only to receive a wicked grin in return.
…They had almost forgotten that he, too, was a Sanguine with absolutely no principles.
“Hah.
I have no interest or leisure for teaching and passing down knowledge.
And even if I did, kids like these probably couldn’t survive a few rounds of my training.”
With a final sideways glance at Lucifer, the Sanguinarch pocketed his scavenged bottle of blood-wine and prepared to head back home.
Once the Sanguinarch had departed, the suffocating pressure finally dissipated.
Both Ascalon and Manfred let out a long, collective sigh of relief.
“You kids are still so young.
If you’re trash, you just gotta practice more.”
Although Ascalon and Manfred found their mentor Lucifer’s bizarre logic quite baffling, they had to admit he was actually pretty responsible.
He didn’t lead them astray, nor did he show any favoritism.
He was just…
a bit lazy.
“Go on, Manfred.
Whip up a couple of dishes for me.”
“…Me again?”
“Or do you expect your master or your senior sister to cook?”
“…I got it.”