Training A Weak Body

Azreal's words from earlier still repeated in Elliot's head like an ominous chant, refusing to let him rest, and leaving his mind In a chaotic mess. It had already been a few hours, but the scene still played in his head as if it had happened just moments ago.

He could still remember when Azreal helped him down the monstrous flight of stairs. That alone should have been a moment of relief, but of course, peace and Elliott's life had never been on good terms.

As soon as they landed, he remembered that even after he put some distance between them, Azreal, still held onto his wrist, and tilted his head slightly, silver hair cascading down his shoulder in an effortlessly regal manner. His eyes glowed faintly, his expression unreadable.

"Now, tell me," Azreal murmured, his voice rich and smooth, but there was an edge to it, something that made the hairs on the back of Elliott's neck stand. "What exactly was said in there after I left, that's making you so... flustered around me?"

Elliott had stiffened.

Flustered? Who was flustered?! His face definitely wasn't red because of Azreal's presence—it was just, um... the wind! Yes, the wind had slapped his face too hard!

Elliott cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to put some more distance between them, but Azreal's grip remained firm, fingers curling just slightly, enough to remind Elliott that running wasn't an option.

The weight of the King's words pressed down on him like a boulder, suffocating, inescapable. Elliott knew that sooner or later, Azreal would find out anyway, and keeping secrets from a demon lord was probably the fastest way to get himself actually executed.

Biting the bullet, Elliott decided it was better to just come clean.

"The King," he started, forcing his voice to be steady, "he wants me to annul the marriage."

Silence.

A slow blink.

Azreal didn't move, but the air around him shifted. The playful smirk he had been wearing moments ago faded, replaced by something unreadable. Elliott felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

Then, Azreal chuckled. It wasn't the good kind of chuckle. No, this was the "I'm about to do something terrifying and probably blood shedding" kind of chuckle.

"Is that so?" Azreal's voice dropped an octave, dangerously smooth.

Elliott, now regretting his entire existence, nodded. "Uh... yeah."

Azreal's fingers twitched at his side, and for the first time since their conversation began, Elliott realized that the shadows around them were growing darker. The wind, which had been light and breezy, turned eerily still.

A normal person would take this as a sign to shut up.

Elliott, however, was not a normal person.

"And?" Azreal's gaze bore into him. "What did you say?"

Elliott inhaled sharply. Here goes nothing.

"I agreed."

The moment the words left his mouth, a force rippled through the air. The ground beneath them trembled slightly. The sky, which had been clear, suddenly darkened as if an unseen force had cast a shadow over them.

Elliott felt his soul leave his body.

Azreal didn't move. He didn't speak. He simply stared, his eyes narrowing just slightly, but the weight of his gaze alone felt like a death sentence.

"You," Azreal's voice was quiet, but it carried an underlying fury that made Elliott want to crawl into a hole, "agreed?"

Elliott forced himself to hold his ground, despite the way his instincts screamed at him to run. "Yes," he said firmly. "I didn't have a choice! If I don't annul the marriage, the King might have me executed—"

Azreal let out a sharp laugh, the sound devoid of humor.

"Executed?" His gaze darkened. "You actually think he would dare?"

Elliott flinched. "Well, yes? He's the King, and I'm—"

Azreal stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "The King is nothing compared to me."

There was no arrogance in his tone, only absolute certainty, as if he were stating an undeniable fact. And eventually he continued

"The king wouldn't dare execute you, Elliott. Do you truly think he has the power to act against me?"

Elliott hesitated.

Well. When he put it like that...

No! Focus! He couldn't let himself get swayed!

He straightened his shoulders. "Regardless, I still want to annul the marriage."

This time, the silence that followed was suffocating.

Azreal stared at him.

Elliott stared back.

Azreal's jaw tensed.

Elliott's legs trembled.

Then, Azreal exhaled a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair as if he were trying to calm himself, then he asked.

"You still want to end this marriage?" His voice was like ice.

Elliott forced himself to nod. "Yes."

Azreal exhaled slowly, as if reigning in his temper. Then, with an eerie calmness, he said, "Good."

Elliott frowned. "…Good?"

Azreal's gaze locked onto his, and in an instant, the air grew thick with tension.

"You're getting on my nerves."

Oh.

Oh no.

That was not something you wanted a demon king to say.

Elliott's survival instincts finally kicked in. "H-Hey, let's not be hasty—"

Azreal's crimson eyes flickered with something dangerous. He leaned in just slightly, and Elliott felt the warmth of his breath ghost over his skin.

"One week," Azreal murmured. "I'll see if you can resist me within that time frame."

Elliott's brain short-circuited.

What?

Before he could even react, Azreal's lips curled into a smirk—an infuriating, knowing smirk.

"And," Azreal continued, eyes gleaming with amusement, "I'll definitely see if you can end this marriage."

Then, just like that, he vanished.

Gone.

Elliott stood there, frozen in place.

His mind tried to process what had just happened.

Then the words truly sank in.

"One week."

"I'll see if you can resist me."

"And I'll definitely see if you can end this marriage."

Elliott grabbed his head.

"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!"

What was Azreal planning? Resist what?! Was Azreal going to seduce him or something?!

No. No, no, no. Elliott refused to let himself be dragged into whatever ridiculous game Azreal was playing. He had one job: annul the marriage and make sure he didn't die in the process.

That was it.

But first—he needed power.

Right now, he was or rather the body he possessed was as good as a sitting duck. A weak, pathetic, cultivation-less sitting duck.

If he wanted to break a demonic marriage contract, he needed magic. If he wanted magic, he needed to train.

Elliott exhaled sharply, determination burning in his eyes.

There was only one way to escape this nightmare.

He was currently nothing more than a weak, magic-less human caught between a demon lord and a furious king. If he wanted to annul the marriage, he needed to be strong enough to break a demonic contract. If he wanted to live, he needed enough power to protect himself from both Azreal's wrath and the King's potential execution order.

Elliott clenched his fists, determination flaring in his chest.

Fine. If it meant getting out of this mess, then he would train his weak, pathetic body to the brink of exhaustion. He would learn mana cultivation, spell casting—whatever it took to gain enough power to break this bond.

*Desummoning spells, demonic contract-breaking rituals—*whatever existed in this world that could undo his marriage, he was going to find it.

Because one thing was certain:

There was no way in hell he was letting Azreal win.

With newfound motivation, Elliott turned on his heel and marched toward the school's mage grounds, fully prepared to grab every spell book he could get his hands on.