Why is Background Character the Strongest Now?

The morning sun filtered through the hospital's tall windows, casting golden shafts of light across the clean tiled floor. Ezra stood quietly near the entrance, dressed in a fresh black coat. The bruises and blood from the night before had been cleaned, but the exhaustion lingered in his eyes.

The others waited just outside. The air smelled of dew and damp stone, the streets still quiet as the city began to stir.

Marcus stepped forward, his expression tight with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I heard… you fought a Rank 6. Alone."

Ezra met his gaze. "I'm fine," he said. His voice was calm, steady. "Thanks for worrying."

Marcus nodded slowly, still uneasy, but didn't push further.

Dalene, arms folded, leaned against the wall. His tone was matter-of-fact.

"Well, that's good. But shouldn't we be heading to see Professor Kael?"

Ezra looked over at him. "We will. But not yet."

Dalene raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Ezra turned his gaze to the street. "First, we go to the Magistrate's office. Elia's still there. We need her back at the Academy—to treat Xavier. No one else can help him like she can."

Dravis, quiet until now, nodded. "Alright. Makes sense. Let's not waste time."

The group moved out in unison, boarding a waiting cab. The engine rumbled softly, and the doors clicked shut behind them.

Outside, the city was still waking. Market stalls were being set up, guards patrolled in pairs, and distant bells rang from the inner district. But beneath the quiet surface, tension lingered—unspoken, heavy.

Ezra stared out the window, jaw tight.

They still hadn't seen Professor Kael.

They didn't know what condition Elia was in.

And Xavier… was barely holding on.

There was no time to pause. No time to look back.

The cab rolled forward, toward the Magistrate's office—and whatever awaited them next.

——————————

The room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of morning light seeping through half-drawn curtains. The silence inside was thick—fragile, as though even a whisper could break it.

Elia sat on the edge of the bed, her breaths slow, body still recovering. Across the room, Eitan stood by the window, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the street below. Tension radiated off him like heat.

"The Sword Emperor…" Elia murmured. "Why is he here?"

Eitan didn't reply immediately. His jaw tightened.

"I shouldn't be here," he said at last. "I need to leave."

Elia frowned. "No. If we're leaving… we leave together."

"I want to," Eitan said, his voice low. "But you know we can't. Maybe the Magistrates haven't realized you have holy power yet, but what if one of those Etherlight students talks? What if the Council finds out? They won't stop chasing you… and if they find me with you, they'll kill me before I can say a word."

He looked at her, his eyes torn.

"It's better if I disappear. You'll be safer. We both will."

Elia stood, unsteady but defiant. "Have you lost your mind? We love each other! I'm not letting you go—not like this!"

"I love you too," Eitan said, his voice cracking slightly. "But if staying with me puts your life at risk, then—"

"No!" she snapped, stepping closer. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

Eitan opened his mouth to argue.

"There is no—"

The door creaked open.

"You should listen to her, Mr. Eitan," a calm voice interrupted. "Lovers shouldn't be separated so easily."

Both of them froze.

Ezra stood at the doorway, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable. His tone was polite… too polite.

In an instant, both Eitan and Elia reacted—instinct flaring. Mana surged through the room like a shockwave. The air grew heavy. Objects around them—chairs, the water jug, even the curtain rods—began to shake violently, vibrating under the pressure of their rising auras.

But Ezra didn't even blink.

He just stood there, calm as stone, watching them both.

"Calm down," Ezra said, stepping into the room. His voice was soft—too soft for the pressure in the air. "We need to talk."

Eitan's aura was still flaring, swirling violently, but then Elia gently placed a hand on his chest.

"Calm down, babe," she whispered.

Her voice cut through the fog of panic. Eitan blinked, then slowly let the pressure die down. His breathing steadied. But his gaze remained fixed on Ezra, sharp and uncertain.

"…Who are you?"

Ezra gave a faint smile, as if he'd been waiting for the question.

"Elia probably knows," he said casually, "but allow me to reintroduce myself."

He stepped further into the room.

"I'm Ezra Celestrian. Disciple of the Sword Emperor. Student of Etherlight School of Awakeners."

The words hit like thunder.

Elia's eyes widened in disbelief. Disciple… of the Sword Emperor?

He never told me… not even once.

Eitan stiffened. If his blood had gone cold before, now it froze entirely.

Before either could speak, Ezra walked over and calmly pulled a chair toward them. He sat down with one leg crossed, like he had all the time in the world.

"I know what you are, Mr. Eitan," he said with a polite smile. "You're a vampire. And yes… my master knows as well."

Eitan's mind raced. His heart hammered. Shit.

What do I do now? What the hell do I do—?!

Ezra continued, his tone light, almost amused.

"You don't have to panic. You're lucky, actually. You've got a lovely partner who's very gifted. So here's the deal—"

His smile didn't fade, but his eyes darkened.

"She helps me with a small task. In return, you both get to keep your peaceful lives."

He leaned forward, voice still calm. "Refuse… and I'll make your lives a living hell."

Eitan shot up from his chair, fury igniting in his veins.

"What did you just say?"

But before he could get too close, Ezra raised a hand.

"Ah," he said smoothly. "I'd reconsider. You touch me, even once… and the offer disappears. After that, you'll both die in ways I really don't want to describe."

The pressure in the room twisted. Elia stepped between them.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped. "If you need help, then ask for it like someone who actually needs help—not like a damn tyrant!"

Ezra looked at her, unbothered.

"You're wrong. I am in the superior position here. Why should I beg when the cards are in my hand?"

He stood from his chair and brushed off his coat. Then, in a softer tone—almost coldly polite—he added,

"But since I'm such a reasonable man, I'll explain this just once. You have until tonight to decide."

He held up a finger.

"One—help me, and no one will ever know Eitan is a vampire.

Two—help me, and Elia's holy powers stay secret.

Three—you both will be placed under direct protection of the Sword Emperor.

Four—I'll personally grant you any one favor. Anything. One time."

Elia stared, speechless.

Ezra reached into his pocket and took out a folded paper. He handed it to Eitan.

"My friend and his sister are infected with miasma," he said. "You help cure them."

He stepped back toward the door.

"That paper has my number. Call me before midnight with your decision."

Then his eyes turned sharp.

"Oh, and one last thing—don't run. I'll take that as a refusal."

He opened the door.

"And you really don't want me to consider you enemies."

With that, Ezra stepped out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence returned—but it was nothing like before. Now it was thick, suffocating, as if even the air was afraid to move.

Elia slowly sat back down on the edge of the bed, her hands clenched on her lap. Eitan remained standing, staring at the slip of paper Ezra had left behind, as if it might explode in his hand.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Then Elia broke the silence.

"What do we do…?"

Eitan didn't respond right away. His jaw was tight, his thoughts a storm of panic, pride, and logic wrestling for control. Finally, he spoke, voice low but steady.

"…If we refuse, we die."

Elia looked up at him, eyes uncertain.

"And if we accept?"

"…We might still die," Eitan admitted. "If he betrays us. Or uses us."

Another pause. Then he sighed, eyes hardening with grim clarity.

"But that's the truth, isn't it? If he wanted us dead, we wouldn't be standing right now. He already knows what we are. Refuse or obey… either way, we're already in his hands."

He turned to her.

"I think it's better we accept. Even if it's a trap… dying while trying to survive is better than dying without doing anything."

Elia was quiet for a long second. Then she gave a small nod.

"Yeah… but that boy—" she frowned slightly, "—he stood completely calm in our combined aura. Not flinching. Not sweating."

She looked up, her expression shifting to disbelief.

"Is he really just eighteen?"

Eitan exhaled sharply. "Disciple of the Sword Emperor. I believe it. He's dangerous… in ways that don't show on the surface."

He paused, then added, "But if we're going to work with him… we need a guarantee."

Elia's eyes narrowed slightly. "A mana contract."

Eitan nodded. "No tricks. No betrayal. If he's serious, he won't mind."

Elia stood up again. "Alright. Then we set our terms too."

The two of them locked eyes—still afraid, still wary—but now with a shared resolve.

"If we're going to walk into the lion's den," Eitan said quietly, "we might as well bring a leash."