A mans Morals

Arnik woke to soft sunlight streaming through ornate windows. His eyes darted around the room—gold-trimmed portraits stared at him like judgmental ancestors, crimson drapes swayed dramatically in the breeze, and a chandelier sparkled as if it were showing off."Where... am I?" he muttered groggily, sinking deeper into the impossibly soft blanket. "No way... this is definitely the wrong place."Before he could process it, the door creaked open, and a maid walked in, bowing so elegantly it made him sit up a little straighter out of pure intimidation. "We've been expecting you, sir," she said, her tone calm and graceful. "Please, follow me."Arnik's mind raced. "Expecting me? Yeah, right. No way I'm supposed to be here," he thought, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The soft carpet welcomed his boots like it, too, was judging him for existing.He followed her reluctantly, but before he could take two steps, a low hum filled the air."Huh—?" he started, only to be interrupted by a hovering chair that zoomed in out of nowhere and scooped him up like he was luggage."WOOOH! What the—?!" he yelped, gripping the armrests as the chair zipped through a long, extravagant hallway. The maid walked alongside him, unbothered, as if this was completely normal.The chair stopped abruptly at an enormous table gleaming with polished wood. Arnik barely had time to register the room's opulence before the maid placed a steaming plate in front of him. Pancakes. Golden, fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, topped with what looked like star-shaped sprinkles."We hope you enjoy your meal," she said with a bow. "The head of the house will be with you shortly."Arnik stared at the plate, his stomach growling loudly. He raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous star sprinkles, then glanced back at the maid. "Is this... some kind of test?" he wondered to himself. His eyes narrowed as he weighed his options."Well," he thought, picking up the fork. "It'd be rude not to eat."With that, he dove in. And oh, he indulged. The first bite was pure heaven—soft, sweet, and somehow better than anything he'd ever eaten before. He didn't just eat the pancakes; he obliterated them. Syrup dripped from the corners of his mouth as he attacked the plate like it had insulted him.The maid returned, silently refilling his plate. "Oh, we're doing this," Arnik thought, nodding to himself and digging in with renewed enthusiasm.By the third plate, he leaned back in the hovering chair, patting his now very full stomach. "If this is a test," he thought, licking syrup off his fingers, "I think I'm acing it."But just as he reached for another bite, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the hall.The head of the house had arrived.Alaric Vayne entered the grand dining hall, seated on a floating throne that glided effortlessly across the polished floor. His presence was magnetic, his every movement deliberate and precise. A porcelain teacup rested gracefully in one hand, and a delicate monocle adorned his left eye, glinting faintly in the ambient light. His tailored suit was immaculate, exuding an air of sophistication that made the servants bow deeply as he passed."Master," the head butler began, his voice calm and refined, matching the elegance of the moment. "We have prepared an arrangement of your favored assortments, as requested."Vayne paused mid-sip, lowering the teacup with an air of practiced finesse. He dabbed his lips with a silken handkerchief before speaking, his tone smooth and composed. "It smells exquisite," he remarked, his eyes briefly closing as though savoring the aroma itself. The room seemed to hang on his every word, the weight of his poise filling the space.Arnik, still seated at the table with remnants of syrup on his lips, stared in disbelief. "This guy can't be real," he thought to himself

Alaric Vayne's throne glided gracefully to a stop, settling seamlessly into place at the grand dining table. The floating seat descended just enough to align him with the table's edge, his posture impeccable as he rested an arm lightly on the throne's ornate armrest. His sharp, discerning gaze landed on Arnik, who was still hunched over his plate, syrup gleaming unapologetically on his lips.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the air heavy with the contrast of their demeanors. Vayne's expression remained unreadable, though a flicker of amusement danced in his monocled eye, betraying his otherwise stoic facade."Ah," Vayne finally said, his voice smooth and deliberate as he gestured subtly toward Arnik's plate. "I see you've found the pancakes... satisfactory."Arnik blinked, realizing the syrup on his lips, and hurriedly wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Uh... yeah. They're pretty good," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the half-chewed bite still in his mouth.Vayne raised a brow ever so slightly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Manners are, of course, optional," he remarked dryly, setting down his teacup onto a saucer that appeared from nowhere, as if summoned by invisible hands. "You must be the red tag I was assigned."Arnik swallowed his bite hurriedly, sitting up straighter. "I guess I am," he replied, his tone unsure but direct.He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Arnik. "My name is Alaric Vayne. And you are?""Arnik Handerfall," he replied, his voice steadier now as he met Vayne's intense gaze.The smirk on Vayne's lips widened ever so slightly. "Handerfall..." he repeated, as if tasting the name. "I see."There was a pause as Vayne leaned back slightly, his fingers steepled in thought. "Well, Arnik Handerfall, welcome. I trust you understand the... significance of being under my tutelage?"Arnik shifted in his seat, unsure how to respond. "I... guess I'll find out soon enough," he said, trying to sound confident despite his nerves.Vayne chuckled softly, a sound that was equal parts amusement and forewarning. "Indeed you will," he said smoothly, lifting his teacup once more. "And let me assure you, young man—this will be an experience you will not soon forget."They soon finished their meal, the plates cleared away with an efficiency that left no trace of the feast. Arnik leaned back slightly, his stomach full but his mind swirling with questions about what was coming next. Alaric Vayne dabbed his lips with a napkin, his movements precise and deliberate, before placing it neatly on the table."Now..." Vayne said, his tone shifting to one of focus as he folded his hands neatly in front of him. His monocle glinted in the soft light, and the air around him seemed to grow heavier. "Down to business."Arnik straightened instinctively, his curiosity and unease sharpening under the weight of Vayne's intense gaze."What is your goal?" Vayne asked, his voice calm but carrying a gravity that made the question feel like a test.Arnik's hands clenched into fists on the table. "To stop Lionel! For humanity's sake! I don't want to see anyone else get hurt—especially not the people I care about."Vayne's lips curved into a faint, genuine smirk. "How... elegant," he said softly, his tone carrying a rare note of approval. "And what are you willing to do to achieve this?" His gaze sharpened, leaning forward slightly as if weighing Arnik's very soul."By any means necessary!" Arnik declared, his voice firm. "Even if I have to become a monster."Vayne's expression faltered. The smirk disappeared, replaced by a frown that darkened his entire countenance. He sighed, reaching for his napkin once again and dabbing his lips, though there was no need. The gesture was deliberate, his calm a sharp contrast to the storm brewing behind his eyes."Oh dear," Vayne said softly, almost to himself. "How... unelegant."Before Arnik could react, Vayne slammed his hands onto the table with a force that sent an audible shockwave through the air. The elegant poise he carried moments ago shattered, replaced by a suffocating dread that flooded the room. A dark aura surged around him, crackling like invisible chains of magic that sent a shiver down Arnik's spine.The servants scattered immediately, retreating without hesitation, though the butler remained, unfazed and silent, standing at his master's side."SO CHILDISH!" Vayne roared, his voice a booming crescendo of disdain. "Have you no class?!"The pressure in the room increased tenfold, pinning Arnik to his chair. He could feel the weight of Vayne's aura crushing him, like a heavy hand pressing against his chest. His breathing became shallow, and his heart pounded in his ears."This aura!" Arnik thought, his eyes widening. "It's suffocating me!"Vayne didn't relent. His words came like lashes. "You eat like a pig! Dreadfully unelegant! It makes me sick! No table manners! And yet you dare to speak of saving humanity?"Arnik struggled to lift his head against the weight of the aura. "I—I meant—""YOU SAY YOU WANT TO SAVE EVERYONE FOR HUMANITY'S SAKE," Vayne interrupted, his voice cutting like a blade. "YET YOU'RE WILLING TO BECOME A MONSTER?!"The dark aura flickered as Vayne suddenly fell silent. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, reclaiming his composure. The oppressive energy vanished in an instant, and the air felt lighter. He lowered himself back into his seat with practiced grace, folding his hands neatly on the table."Here's some advice," Vayne said, his voice once again calm and measured. "If you lose your morals, the war becomes a bloodbath."Arnik sat frozen, still catching his breath as he processed the sudden shift.Vayne's sharp gaze locked onto him, his voice soft yet firm. "Your morals must stay intact, Arnik. Without them, you'll win nothing but ashes. Wars may be won by becoming monsters, but it's sad... a hollow, meaningless victory."Arnik swallowed hard, his voice quiet as he muttered, "I don't understand...How can you keep your morals, yet fight such a unholy war"Vayne's lips curved slightly, though it wasn't quite a smile. "You will... soon."