Angelic Predator:Trust Me, I'm Sane

Elarion was content. Gaining his first follower had gone better than expected—and though he didn't show it, he was almost happy.

So much so that he willingly walked toward the place his older brothers usually trained.

Of course, he wasn't going there to meet them. He had something else to confirm.

Behind him, Herua followed closely, trailing like a baby chick after its mother hen.

They soon arrived at the opposite training ground—a stark contrast to the quiet space Elarion usually used. If his own area was like a calm pond, this place was a roaring river. Not filled with water, but with sweat, steel, and noise.

Elarion walked forward silently, eyes scanning every single face with sharp precision.

He had trained relentlessly for six years before executing a single part of his plan. He knew early strength was everything—and the first seven years of life in the duchy determined your fate.

As he stepped onto the marble path that divided the novices from the veterans, all activity slowly came to a halt. People turned to look at the unfamiliar boy walking with calm authority.

But no one dared to whisper.

Elarion had spent years establishing his presence—cold, untouchable, silent. And in the Crimsonveil duchy, people didn't interfere without reason. Every maid, servant, and knight had earned their position through a ruthless selection process. There was no room for the weak, or the nosy.

And most importantly, there were rules. Unshakable laws that defined the duchy's spine:

---

The Laws of the Crimsonveil Duchy:

Children under seven must not be harmed.

Children under eighteen must not be killed.

Weakness is weakness, regardless of status.

Never question your master.

Every person is free to choose their master—and must serve them until death.

No special treatment is allowed for direct or collateral family lines.

Gossip, rumors, leaks, or mocking the Crimsonveil name are forbidden.

The Crimsonveil name is earned—not inherited.

All positions are earned through testing. No nepotism. Only skill.

Bullying based on social status is forbidden. Only strength matters.

---

These were the rules. Harsh to some—but to those who worshipped strength, they were a blessing.

It was because of these laws that Elarion had been tortured without dying. Protected just enough by the system until he turned eighteen. After that, no law could shield him.

But that time was still far away.

He exhaled, brushing the memories from his mind, and walked forward with quiet grace. His back straight, chin up, coat draped across his shoulder and fluttering in the wind. His shirt clung to his skin, soaked with sweat, revealing a lean but honed physique.

His eyes—gems of cold clarity—swept over the veterans.

Some of these faces were etched deep in his mind. The same ones he had once drawn red lines under in his diary. The ones who had abused him in his past life. The ones he eventually killed, one by one, to earn the Crimsonveil name.

A faint, unsettling smile touched his lips.

"Such sweet memories," he whispered under his breath.

His eyes narrowed, unconsciously sharpening like blades.

Before he could start burning holes through their skulls with his stare, a voice cut through the air.

"JEWEL! Are you here to see your 'favorite' brother?" Rior called out dramatically, grinning wide. He emphasized favorite just to annoy Sirus.

Sirus, unbothered by Rior's antics, calmly raised a hand and gestured Elarion to come over.

Elarion turned his attention to them. A small group of younger kids had gathered nearby, watching with curiosity. He began walking toward his brothers.

Rior stood waiting with his usual wild grin, while Sirus wore a small, warm smile reserved only for him.

Elarion gave a polite nod and a faint smile in return.

"What made you come here, Jewel?" Sirus asked, gently patting his younger brother's head. The touch didn't bother Elarion. He had grown used to it.

"Of course he came to see me, right baby Jewel?" Rior chimed in excitedly. It was rare for Elarion to come visit them at all.

Elarion let out a small chuckle.

His brothers froze.

Then smiled. Brightly.

A genuine smile—big and warm—had spread across Elarion's normally cold face.

Rior beamed. Sirus's eyes softened.

"You should smile more. You look really cute when you do," they said at the same time. Rior's tone was loud and excited; Sirus's calm and kind.

The unexpected words made Elarion pause.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his eyes. That smile faded slightly, as an old memory crept into his mind—one that wasn't so pleasant.

He turned his face away slightly, hiding the faint shadow that had passed through his expression.

"Maybe," he muttered, "I'll try to smile more… if there's a reason to."

The word smile echoed in his head, triggering something buried deeper.

Something he hadn't thought of in years.

He couldn't help it but remember, though the memories has already faded. No longer worth reminiscing about.

He still remember but it didn't hurt. It was just like a memory coming to him.

Spending lot of time in hell , he could remember every single negative memory of his, it had became dull.

As time flows his own memories used against him, if he stopped working for some time but as it became frequent the effect got dull and later vanished.

Now it was just a memory.

He could smile, but didn't wanted to atleast without reason.

soon he will....