My Deck Is Made Up Of OP Anime Characters

Hearing Azrael's doubts, Andrew fell silent, the atmosphere in the office suddenly growing heavy with unspoken tensions.

Recognizing the uncomfortable shift, Azrael immediately backtracked. "Sorry, Teacher Andrew, just pretend I didn't say anything."

Andrew exhaled a visible sigh of relief, clearly grateful for the diplomatic escape route. He'd genuinely feared that Azrael would press the matter further, asking questions that could only lead to dangerous political territory. "Has Azrael been able to adapt to life at Pixar University recently?" he asked, attempting to steer the conversation toward safer ground.

What a blunt change of subject, Azrael thought with dark amusement, though his expression remained perfectly neutral. He followed Andrew's lead, engaging in pleasant small talk while his mind processed the implications of that telling reaction.

The administrator's obvious discomfort had confirmed suspicions that had been building since the Provincial Examination's closing ceremony. The relationship between the Imperial Court and the Cardian Master Association wasn't merely bureaucratic rivalry, it was something far more serious.

Is the split between the court and the association in Pixar so significant? Azrael wondered. This city isn't as peaceful as I initially assumed.

He'd originally believed that reaching Pixar would provide him with a sanctuary from the political machinations plaguing the coastal regions. Now it seemed that assumption had been dangerously naive. The very fact that secret realm access required government approval rather than Association authorization spoke volumes about the power dynamics at play.

Ever since the Provincial Examination's final award ceremony, the association and the court had struck Azrael as two completely separate forces, barely cooperative entities united only by external pressures threatening the Empire of Aetherlight's stability. Their collaboration felt forced, temporary, and potentially fragile.

But the court is so stingy with rewards, Azrael reflected. How do they maintain any loyalty among their supporters?

The observation wasn't entirely fair, but it reflected his personal experience. Since becoming a Lore Cardian, he'd never received any direct benefits from the Imperial Court. Every material, every opportunity, every advancement had come through Association channels or his own dangerous infiltration of the Crimson Oath Society.

Or perhaps it's because of Master Lucian's position, he realized with growing clarity.

Master Lucian had always operated along the coastal defense lines, territories that seemed to fall entirely under Association jurisdiction. Azrael had never encountered Imperial Court officials or representatives during his time in those regions. Following that logic, his teacher likely belonged firmly within the Association's sphere of influence.

No wonder no one from the court contacted me after the Provincial Examination, Azrael concluded. I've probably been classified as Association-aligned by default.

The realization carried troubling implications for his understanding of the Crimson Oath Society's true objectives. Were they targeting the Association specifically, or the Empire of Aetherlight as a whole? Their casual disregard for civilian casualties suggested the latter, terrorists rarely discriminated based on bureaucratic affiliations when pursuing their goals.

Those Masters wouldn't cooperate with terrorists like the Crimson Oath Society, Azrael told himself firmly. Would they?

But even as he formed the thought, doubt crept in like poison. His knowledge of historical patterns from his previous life had taught him never to underestimate the corruption potential of entrenched power structures. Desperate people in positions of authority sometimes made alliances that would have been unthinkable under normal circumstances.

The uncertainty extended to his previous interactions with Fredrika, casting her capabilities in a new and troubling light.

Can a brothel manager really obtain the kind of intelligence she provided? he wondered, his analytical mind reviewing their past exchanges with fresh perspective.

Before the Provincial Examination, Fredrika had supplied him with comprehensive information about every seeded participant. While the details hadn't been exhaustive, the coverage had been remarkably complete, not a single high-profile competitor had been missed.

Yet the Velvet Springhouse was merely a well-known establishment within Pixar's entertainment district. Where had Fredrika obtained intelligence about competitors from distant cities across the province? Could the working girls under her management really have collected such comprehensive data?

I seriously doubt those team leaders frequent brothels during training periods, Azrael thought skeptically. There has to be another explanation.

The discrepancy bothered him more than he'd initially realized. Intelligence gathering on that scale required resources and connections far beyond what a entertainment establishment should possess, unless that establishment served as a front for something much larger and more dangerous.

I should investigate this when the opportunity presents itself, he decided, filing the concern away for future action.

Despite his growing suspicions and mounting questions about the political landscape, Azrael maintained his facade of eager anticipation for the welfare secret realm access. His performance seemed to satisfy Andrew, who appeared relieved to have navigated away from more sensitive topics.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries about academic schedules and university resources, Azrael prepared to take his leave.

"Thank you for arranging everything, Teacher Andrew," he said with appropriate gratitude. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow's expedition."

"The experience should prove quite educational," Andrew replied with genuine warmth. "Just remember to exercise appropriate caution, even welfare secret realms can present unexpected challenges."

As Azrael departed the administrative building, Andrew watched his retreating figure with an expression of profound regret and helplessness.

"After being caught in this whirlpool, his life will probably never be simple again," the administrator murmured to himself, his voice barely audible in the empty office. "It's a pity that I'm just a minor functionary who can't change anything."

He turned back to his desk, shoulders sagging with the weight of knowledge he couldn't share. "I'm sorry, Azrael."

The following morning arrived crisp and clear, winter sunlight streaming through Pixar's urban canyons as Azrael made his way to the Government Office in Azraelxia District. The building's imposing facade spoke of Imperial authority, its architectural style deliberately designed to inspire both respect and intimidation in those who sought its services.

At the reception desk, Azrael presented his Lore Cardian certification to a uniformed clerk whose professional demeanor suggested extensive experience with such requests. "I want to access the welfare secret realm."

The receptionist accepted his documents with practiced efficiency, feeding them into a verification machine that hummed quietly as it processed his credentials. "Excellent, I'll enter the permissions for you now. Please wait a moment."

The authorization process proved remarkably swift, within minutes, the clerk was returning his certification with a respectful nod. "Everything is in order, Lord Azrael. You may proceed directly to the [Night Banquet] base."

That was faster than expected, Azrael noted with satisfaction. He'd anticipated bureaucratic delays or additional paperwork, but the government's secret realm access system apparently operated with impressive efficiency.

Outside the office, Pride's enhancement flowed across Pidgeot's form as the familiar transformation created their organic flight system. The black and red aesthetic might draw attention, but it also served as an effective deterrent against potential interference.

The [Night Banquet] base occupied a secured compound on Pixar's outskirts, its military-grade fortifications making clear the valuable resources contained within. After presenting his authorization at the main gate, Azrael found himself escorted through multiple security checkpoints before reaching the secret realm's entrance.

"Lord Azrael, please wait here momentarily," the facility supervisor informed him with professional courtesy. "There's another Lore Cardian scheduled to enter the [Night Banquet] secret realm today."

The news surprised Azrael, he'd assumed his welfare access would be exclusive or at least scheduled separately from other expeditions. Still, he had no fundamental objection to sharing the secret realm. The [Night Banquet] was presumably vast enough to accommodate multiple explorers without creating conflicts, provided they selected different operational areas.

His primary concern was whether this unknown Lore Cardian also sought the venue core materials he needed. Competition for those specific resources could complicate his mission significantly.

"I'll wait for them here," Azrael replied diplomatically, settling into a comfortable observation position near the portal entrance.

Several minutes passed before a middle-aged man appeared, practically groveling as he escorted a yawning young man toward the staging area. The supervisor's obsequious behavior immediately set off warning signals in Azrael's mind, such extreme deference suggested his companion possessed either tremendous personal power or dangerous political connections.

When the newcomer's gaze fell upon Azrael, his expression shifted from bored indifference to sharp alertness. "Supervisor Lin, I distinctly remember you mentioning yesterday that only I would be entering today."

The middle-aged supervisor, clearly the "Lin" being addressed, immediately broke into nervous perspiration. "Young Master Crowley, this Pixar University student's arrival is purely coincidental, a complete scheduling oversight on my part."

The young man's lips curved into a smile that contained more threat than warmth. "Azrael?" he said, as if testing the name's weight on his tongue.

Without warning, he placed what appeared to be a friendly hand on Supervisor Lin's shoulder. "How could I possibly blame you for such loyalty to the court's interests, Supervisor Lin?"

Despite the reassuring words, the supervisor's face had gone pale with terror. If I believed that sentiment for even a moment, he thought desperately, my corpse would already be rotting in some forgotten drainage ditch.

Had he possessed any choice in the matter, if the opposing party weren't the untouchable Azrael, he would never have scheduled both entries for the same day. But he was merely a base commander caught between forces far beyond his ability to influence or control. Better to let them resolve their conflicts directly than become collateral damage in their power games.

The young man's attention shifted to Azrael, who had been observing this dramatic performance with carefully controlled indifference. The predatory smile vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of hearty camaraderie that felt even more dangerous than his previous menace.

"You must be the Azrael who was accepted as Master Lucian's personal disciple!" he declared with theatrical enthusiasm. "My name is Crowley. What an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Azrael studied the young man's rapid personality shifts with analytical detachment. Anyone capable of terrifying a government facility supervisor while maintaining such perfect emotional control was clearly far more dangerous than his casual demeanor suggested.

"I am Azrael," he replied with deliberate simplicity. "May we proceed into the secret realm now?"

Hearing this direct question, Supervisor Lin seized the opportunity to extract himself from the increasingly volatile situation. "Certainly! Both Lord Azrael and Young Master Crowley may select their preferred operational areas within the realm."

His voice carried slight hesitation as he delivered the next piece of information. "However, I should mention that there's only one [Return of the Dead] core material available per annual cycle. You'll need to determine its distribution between yourselves."

As expected, Azrael thought with resignation. Venue core materials were rare enough that competition was inevitable when multiple Lore Cardians entered the same realm simultaneously.

Before he could respond, Crowley had already stepped forward with that unsettling smile. "Azrael and I will handle the material allocation ourselves, Supervisor Lin. You're dismissed."

The supervisor vanished from the entrance area as if he'd been granted a royal pardon, clearly desperate to escape whatever confrontation was about to unfold.

Observing the man's terrified retreat, Azrael sighed internally. He's definitely not someone who plays by conventional rules.

The fact that Crowley could reduce a government facility commander to such a state suggested connections and authority that transcended normal bureaucratic hierarchies. This wasn't going to be a simple matter of civilized negotiation over resource distribution.

"Please, after you, Azrael," Crowley said with elaborate courtesy, gesturing toward the swirling portal that marked the secret realm's entrance.

Meeting the young man's expectant gaze, Azrael recognized the challenge being offered. Whatever Crowley's true intentions, backing down now would establish a dynamic of submission that could prove catastrophic once they were isolated within the realm's confines.

Without further hesitation, Azrael stepped through the dimensional gateway, feeling the familiar sensation of reality shifting around him as he crossed into the [Night Banquet] secret realm.

Behind him, Crowley's voice carried a note of genuine anticipation as he watched the portal swallow his unexpected companion.

"Master Lucian's disciple?" he murmured to himself, touching his chin thoughtfully. "What an exciting coincidence indeed."

The smile that spread across his features held promises of violence and ambition in equal measure. This expedition had just become far more interesting than he'd originally anticipated.

...

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