Chapter 87: Purple Moon
Malek flitted through the night of Al-Rafid, his mind slightly a mess after what he experienced, wondering how things would play out from now on. Even though he had been ’inducted’ into the winning team, that did not mean that everything would be smooth.
On the contrary, the most dangerous part was yet to come.
The manor came into view as he cut through the winding alleyways, its luxurious presence like a beacon in the dark. Even though he had walked these halls for weeks, there was something unsettling about returning tonight.
Malek landed soundlessly on a side balcony, slipping inside and maneuvering through the dim corridors toward the meeting hall. The scent of stale smoke, alcohol, and blood lingered in the air, mixing with the laughter and murmurs of the dark esper group as they loitered.
The moment he stepped into the hall, the room stilled.
Malek felt the weight of their gazes fall upon him like sharpened knives as he responded by straightening his back, keeping his expression neutral as he strode forward.
The main table was occupied by familiar figures... killers, mercenaries, and outlaws. Among them, Vargas, the brute of the group, leaned back in his seat, his massive arms crossed.
Near him was Zafira of the Ancients who gave Malek a quiet, knowing look as she scanned his intact body up and down.
Then there was him.
Azrael sat at the head of the table, clad in simple black, his presence suffocating despite his stillness. His face was obscured by the shadows, but his eyes, like twin abyssal voids, reflected nothing.
Silence reigned for a moment before Vargas broke it with a scoff.