“Israfil?” Vincent murmured to himself confused as he watched his best friend walk away. It suddenly dawned on him that he was soaked in sweat, causing his olive skin to glisten in the faint light of the cavern. That had been one of the first fights in a long time to push him to the limit. He stretched the arm that had previously been clutched by the Seraphim’s glimmer and frowned ‘that was really close. He could have snapped my arm like a fucking twig.’ He glanced around and found his robe strewn on the floor across the arena. “Did I…push him too far?” Vincent mused as he strode silently across the arena.

Snatching the robe off the ground he shrugged it back on, leaving it open to reveal the marking of his Arcana on his chest. The Hierophant, the Hierarchy’s head scholar, yet Vincent didn’t really feel like a scholar anymore. Sure, he was smart. But he wasn’t a scholar in an academic sense. He would study, but he would also explore. He would take notes and start fights, he would read maps and then chart unexplored territory. He frowned, too much to think of all at once. He needed a bath.

…

The soothing waters of the natural hot springs located just one floor below the arena did little to calm the scholar’s troubled mind. What or who was ‘Israfil’ and how did that relate to Ioder. He almost seemed like a different person at that point, and it was scaring Vincent. He sighed and sank into the burning hot water until his nose was barely above the steaming surface. He closed his eyes and simply let the small gurgling sound of water pouring out the gaping maws of ornate statues fill the air. A bridge had been crossed today, a spark of conflict ignited. He doubted this would be the end of his rivalry with Ioder. The sparks were just beginning.