Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

Chapter 128: Copenhägen Cheetah

RAFEL WAS GIFTED THE FANGS of the basilisk as a reward for his courage by the school council. And it wasn't long before a silver plaque bearing his name was added into the mighty showglass of high laurels previously won by those who had done exploits. It wasn't a gold trophy or a Bhùtan shield, but it was recognized and respected.

If anyone, upon passing through the vast lobby of the administrative tower asked what First Year had gained dignitas of recent, the first to be mentioned was he; the slayer of serpents.

The basilisk was burned by the great beach a mile from the institute's goth gates. [Rank B] Casters, by Sunfire, burned the great serpent in a pyre that was seen from Rafel's room in Salem Hall. "It is a rite to banish whatever evils the basilisk brought up in its ascent," Percival explained.

"Aside the loads of shit, you mean," Rafel said, and both of them laughed.

The two boys turned from the window from which they peeped, drawing the drapes shut. It was early evening and they had just returned few hours ago from their last class; [Historia Caelestes]: the history of the gods, from which it was believed all supernaturals were spawned from, holy or evil.

Rafel shared a few classes with Percival.

[Potions and Poisons]

[Warlock Practice]

[Historia Caelestes],

But he also took a few more that were meant for those of Phoenix and Raven Arcs only, like [Blood Rain] and [Coven Rituals].

Inside Rafel's Viking-themed chambers of the dorm, Percival plopped down on his snow bed and rubbed his ankles. "You know, the school board has launched an investigation into the basilisk case. Coach Tanaka and a few others are being interviewed as we speak. Monkey business is suspected—but that's to be expected.

Aside that, we the FILII CORVI have appointed one of our own to oversee the case secretly."

Rafel sat down next to Percival. "Let me guess, Miss Spears?"

In his head, he interpreted FILII CORVI as Children of the Crow. Percival was hinting at the elite secret society, to which Rafel had given no response yet concerning their ploy for him to join them. To complete their dark sanctum of nine, as the Liege Apollyon.

"Rosamunde has a huge crush on you," Percival was saying, "you know that, right?"

Rafel punched his arm. "How about you worry about your own sex life for a change, nuh? Don't think I haven't noticed you and Brunhilda."

"Please, she's like my sister. I would never!"

"That hasn't stopped you Van Imperias before."

"Oh! You wound me, mi'lord." Percival clutched to his heart dramatically.

"Come on!" Rafel laughed, grabbing a gold blazer hanging off a rack and tossing it to him on the bed. "Get your shit. Or we'll miss dinner."

"Ugh, please! I can handle that right now. I was literally in a pile of it yesterday." Percival grimaced, making Rafel chuckle more. His roommate was the best kinda bro for him. Rafel considered offering the heads of those who had murdered his parents to him on a silvery platter. Or perhaps, a gold one?

In the nearest future.

Either way, the basilisk case had taught the [C. A. W] a hard lesson. The ancient pipes were all removed and replaced, and this time magic was employed to reinforce the new ones.

"A fount of shit on royals? Imagine the scandal!"

Rafel and Percival went laughing out the room and into the resplendent hall corridors, their red and golden jackets blending well. They were pulling up into the filling cafeteria for supper when Rafel's system came with a notification. The first since his injury at the hands of the Usurper.

He had healed enough.

[DING!]

A status panel appeared, for his eyes only. It was platinum and breezy.

[REPORT FOR THE APOLLYON]

[GENERAL HEALTH: +77

SOUL COINS: 7.5 million.

ARCANE RUNE: Balanced Immunity (Infernal spark Rejuvenation)

RANK: Hell Anointer.

RANK II: Warlock (Slayer of Serpents)

UPGRADES: A set of UNCOMMON basilisk fangs. HALLOWED charm. +50 000 soul coins.

DEITY: Asclepius.]

'We need to find a name for you, system. I can't keep calling you eponymously.' To this, the system of blood, dragon, and fire offered no response.

Rafel and Percival had just reached the table their gang of beautiful misfits usually sat. It was empty. No one sat on the long, silvery benches. "What do you think?" Percival turned to Rafel. He shrugged, and just then, the Student President strutted over in a kimono with tight leggings under it, all pure, smashing gold.

Erika halted before them. "Oh, boys, are you looking for your friends?" Her eyes twinkled, without waiting for them to reply. "They were here earlier—such a cute little band. Anyway, the succubus said to tell you they were ordering in. And to join them at Hall Copenhägen. Mikhail and the Sophomore.

. . Ravenna is it? Well, those two took off to Spinazolla's. Have fun!"

Erika blew them a kiss and sashayed off to her own table of populars and cheerleaders.

All on it were of Griffin Arc, and their clothes shone like the sun itself.

Percival and Rafel turned with a smooth sweep, heading out. Girlish giggles followed them out the cafeteria.

Copenhagen Hall was the furthest in the resident blocks. Like the rest of the other student domiciles, it had four storeys and two wings; north and south. But unlike Salem Hall, Copenhagen was far quieter. Everyone it seemed, in the place, loved to keep to themselves. The walls, as Percival and Rafel strode through the vestibule, was a unique pale marine.

It struck the Florentine floors in a fall glow, and Rafel almost felt transported into Morpheus' dream realm. The [Sandman] was a special friend; in Lilith's harem too.

The boys were walking to Aya's room when a sudden figure began following them in the hallway. The silhouette traced at a safe distance. Rafel supposed many were in this Hall's dining area too. But since his slave, Naamah had ordered in—

"Oi! You!" an abrupt feminine voice cut out his thoughts.

Rafel could sense the anger in the tone before ever he turned. The silhouette stepped into the light, and Rafel met a familiar pair of angry eyes.

"Skyla?"

"Yes, it's me. . .you know, Cora's girlfriend? The one you've been secretly FUCKING!"

Uh oh! Rafel mused. Red alert! Not good!

Skyla began walking closer. She was now near enough that Rafel could see her extended claws.

'Not good at all!'

Rafel held up his hands to ease the situation. He had fought many does in Hel's arena, but none could compare the fury of a jealous lover, not even the wrath of the Titans. "Look, Skyla, I'm not here to stir any trouble. I'm just here to see a friend."

But Skyla was not listening.

"You know you demons; you think you can just strut around and do whatever the fuck you want; FUCK whomever you want, eh! But not with my Cora. Nuh uh!" Skyla's eyes went feral yellow. She was a Beta. "—you ever fought a werewolf before?"

Now, that Rafel thought on it, no. Many times a Hellhound, but he couldn't brag on taking down a lupine. Skyla's shock of auburn hair breezed around her face like a flaming mane. She was the fiercest girl he'd ever seen in that moment.

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He had angered the Copenhagen cheetah.

"Skyla," Rafel tried to pacify again, "I'm sorry if I hurt you—"

"IF YOU HURT ME?" she yelled. "That's my fuckin' girlfriend. You think I'm stupid? I could smell you on her at Spinazolla's, you asshole!"

"Whatever we did was consensual. What I and Corazón have is—"

"CORA! Her name is Cora. You seduce her, make her do these things. Cora would never hurt me; not like that. I figure you won't let her be. .

.not unless someone makes you."

Percival had already began taking slow steps back. At this point, several of the shut doors in the hallway screened open and heads peered out. The quiet of Copenhägen Rafel had so loved upon his entry was broken. He put up his hands. "Easy, Skyla. Easy!"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking horse!"

"Skyla? Stay?"

"You know what; fuck you!"

The werewolf female leapt for him. Her sharp claws met with the side of his face, taking skin with the swipe. Three long scars traced down the left half of Rafel's cheek to his impeccable jawline. The injury began to heal as soon as it was formed, lines of molten magma sealing the scars—Skyla's talons were no Dark Spectre dagger.

Rafel wondered if he let her strike hit because a part of him felt guilty.

He bled for a bit, and once the first drop of his blood touched the resplendent hallway floors, all the lights in the Copenhagen Hall went out.

It was a total blackout in the dormitory.

Shadows began to coalesce in the darkness, forming a cyclone pattern around Rafel. As he lifted his eyes and bleeding face, his iris were the rage of burning Sunfire.