Chapter 47: Cafe
His scythe— Requiem.
Its long, matte-black handle was sleek, it’s handle extremely cold in his palm. As he drew it out, he felt a chill travel through his spine. The blade was housed in a metal sheath. With a soft motion, he unsheathed it—and the moment he did, a sharp shhhhhrip echoed in the small dressing room, the sound of air being cut. The edge shimmered faintly, so sharp it hurt to look at.
"Wow," he whispered.
He gave it a few experimental swings, testing its weight and balance—it felt like it was made for him. Then, as if guided by instinct, he found the chain mechanism and noticed the silver bracelet it was attached to. Slipping it on, he channeled a tiny pulse of Aether—and the chain connecting the scythe to the bracelet in his wrist vanished as if it was never they to begin with.
He kept the scythe carefully back to it box then turned to the last two boxes.
Inside the jewel-like one was a compact dagger with a curved grip, and in the flatter black box, a sleek, compact handgun—its body streamlined, with the charging display filled up. He examined them both with appreciation. The gun slid easily into the holster which he then processed to tusk into the back of his waistband of his pants. The dagger, he tucked into his coat at the side.
He dropped the scythe back in the box as didn’t see anyone with weapons yesterday—he wasn’t about to flaunt his either.
Once dressed and ready, Zephyr stepped out of the dressing room and paused.
All around him, students were filing out of their own rooms, the hall now filled with boys—and each wore a uniform tailored to their class or clan. Some had high collars, others coats with golden buttons or coat that drifted to the knee just like his. The styles varied, but the color scheme stayed within crimson, black, and white. It was a parade of elegance. But upon closer look one could see that it all related to the colour of their clan— Red and black for Demios, Gold and white for Solmyr, Dull gold for DuskFall clan, and purple-black for UmbraFan clan.