Last Gun Alchemist

The guard stepped onto the platform slowly, his boots making a dull sound against the stained floor as he climbed the steps one after the other.

His eyes moved first to the girl’s body.

To what was left of it.

It was no longer something that could be called whole, her form broken and disfigured in a way that made even the air around her feel disturbed, as if the space itself rejected what had just happened.

Then his gaze shifted to Felix.

Felix stood there casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, wiping the blood off his hands and coat slowly, his expression calm and satisfied.

There was no sympathy in his eyes, not even a trace of discomfort, because in his understanding, this was not something to pity.

This was a trial.

A place where strength decided everything, a place where hesitation meant death and in this Trial of Steel...

Weakness was not something that could be excused.

It was something that got erased.

”Winner.”

His voice came out flat, without emotion, as he pointed toward Felix.

Then, without waiting, he turned and walked off the stage.

Felix’s lips curled upward slowly.

He raised both hands, spreading them slightly as if embracing the noise that followed, his body opening up to the crowd as cheers erupted from his group.

But it wasn’t only cheers.

Mixed within the sound were glares.

Cold ones, sharp ones and ones filled with something deeper than simple dislike.

Felix could feel it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling lightly.

Now this...

This is the attention I used to have... before that Vera almost broke me.

He exhaled, the smile on his face twisting slightly into something more unnatural.

The fear...Ahh...I can feel it again...The fear... the hatred...

He slipped one hand into his coat pocket and walked off the stage, his steps slow, almost dragging as if he wanted to stretch out the moment.

Behind him, guards carrying a black body bag stepped onto the platform, their movements efficient and silent.

Maids followed closely; their hands steady as they began cleaning the blood that had spread across the floor.

The atmosphere in the arena didn’t recover, even after the match ended.

The air stayed the same.

Heavy, cold and suffocating.

Some people smiled like nothing had happened, some sat without expression and others...Simply watched.

They watched as the girl’s body was lifted, placed inside the bag, and carried away like something that no longer mattered.

They watched as the floor was wiped clean, as if the blood had never been there in the first place.

Time passed slowly.

Then...

Freya stepped onto the stage.

Her posture was straight, her steps controlled as she walked to the center and stopped.

Her eyes swept across the arena, first toward the candidates, then toward the orphans seated behind.

”The seventh trial comes to an end.”

Her voice was calm.

”The information for the next trial will be given the day after tomorrow.”

She placed her hands on her waist, shifting her stance slightly as she continued, her gaze settling on the orphan side.

”Rest your minds and prepare yourselves. As for the winners among the orphans...”

A faint pause followed.

”When you return to your base, you will receive a form to fill. After that, you will be informed of when your oath to the family will be held.”

She smiled, a small controlled one.

”Welcome to the Ashenlocke family... in advance.”

A low murmur rose from the orphan side.

It wasn’t loud nor was it joyful, but some of them...Smiled within themselves.

Then Freya turned her gaze toward the children of Ashenlocke.

”As for the candidates who won their matches, you will submit a letter to claim your opponent as your servant. This will serve as the contract they will sign in blood.”

She continued without pause.

”It is also possible to claim an orphan who wasn’t your opponent, but only if the one who defeated them doesn’t submit a claim, also in cases where multiple candidates request the same orphan...”

Her tone remained steady.

”Rank will be used to decide. If rankers are involved, they take priority. If not, the orphan will have to choose who they want to serve.”

Her posture straightened slightly.

”You will use the numbers assigned during this trial as the indication of the orphan you are claiming in your letter. As for those who drew... there is nothing for them, unless an orphan receives a request.”

A brief silence followed.

”That is all.”

She turned and left.

The chief guards followed behind her, along with the other guards, their voices low as they spoke among themselves.

Soon after, the candidates began to leave, as well as the orphans, who were guided out by the two guards towards another exit.

Just like that...

The seventh trial ended.

After leaving the arena, the candidates slowly split apart into their own paths, not as one united group, but as scattered pieces moving with their own intentions.

Some walked together with members of their groups, their voices overlapping as they replayed the fights they had just witnessed, arguing, laughing, or quietly analyzing every move they remembered. Others didn’t linger at all, heading straight back to their rooms with tired steps, wanting nothing more than to wash off the day and collapse into rest or sleep.

While a few moved toward the infirmary, their pace quicker, their expressions more serious as they went to check on teammates who hadn’t walked out of the arena on their own.

And then there were those who went to the cafeteria.

Time passed, as it always did, steady and uncaring.

Evening came without announcement.

The sky darkened gradually, the moon rising high above, its pale light spreading across the grounds as snow began to fall, each flake drifting slowly before settling, while the cold breeze grew sharper, brushing against exposed skin and slipping through clothing like thin blades.

Inside the café, the atmosphere was completely different.

It was filled with movement and noise.

Candidates occupied nearly every seat, the sound of utensils clinking against plates mixing with laughter and conversation that layered over each other until it became a constant hum. Some leaned over tables, speaking with energy, while others ate quickly, trying to keep up with the pace of everything around them.

But in the middle of all that noise...

One table stood out.

Felix sat there, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed as he leaned back slightly, listening as his group surrounded him, their voices full of admiration.

”That was amazing, Sir Felix!”

A boy standing just behind him leaned forward slightly, his face bright with excitement as he spoke.

Another voice cut in immediately after.

”Did you see their faces when Sir Felix tore her clothes?”

The moment the words were said, laughter broke out.

Not just one or two voices... but many, which were loud and unrestrained.

The sound spread across their side of the café, sharp enough that even those who tried to ignore it couldn’t.

At nearby tables, a few candidates paused briefly while eating. Some lowered their heads slightly, focusing on their meals, while others glanced over before quickly looking away.

No one could say anything, even though they all felt uncomfortable.

They could only sit and eat while listening to the disturbing details being repeated, again and again, with no shame in the voices that carried them.

Then...

”What’s got you all shouting like this?”

Veda’s voice cut through the noise as he and his group approached, their steps steady as they moved toward Felix’s table.

They stopped just in front of them.

Their expressions didn’t hide anything.

Disgust.

It was written plainly on their faces.

”You’re in the café.”

Veda spoke again, his eyes fixed directly on Felix, his tone calm but firm.

”So...?”

Page tilted her head slightly, her brow lifting as she looked at Veda, her expression carrying a mix of confusion and mockery, as if she genuinely didn’t understand what the problem was.

”So shut the hell up and eat like normal people.”

Linda’s response came immediately, sharp and direct, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Page without holding back.

”Or better still, get your disgusting asses out of here,” Tracy added, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned slightly forward. ”You’re clearly not here to eat.”

Felix turned his head slowly.

He glanced at Gareth.

Gareth raised both hands slightly, then let them drop, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug that clearly said he had nothing to contribute.

Felix shifted his gaze to Page, who remained seated at his side, her posture unchanged.

A brief moment of silence passed...

Then...

”Pff...”

A small sound escaped someone and just like that, the group burst into laughter again.

Felix slammed his hand down on the table.

The sound echoed loudly, the impact causing utensils to shift and plates to rattle slightly.

A few candidates who had been trying to ignore everything stood up immediately, picking up their trays and leaving without a word, unable to remain any longer as the tension thickened.

”Veda... Veda... Veda...”

Felix leaned forward slightly, wiping at the corner of his eye as if he had laughed hard enough to tear up.

Then he exhaled slowly, the smile on his face stretching wider.

”Haaa...”

His voice dragged out, almost like he was savoring the moment.

”Aren’t you and your group the ones disturbing me right now? I mean...”

Felix leaned back slightly as he spoke, a slow, smug smile forming on his face as his eyes swept across Veda and the others standing before him, almost as if he was amused by their presence rather than bothered by it.

”What exactly did I do to deserve that kind of look? Someone might actually think you were about to kill me.”

He scoffed lightly, and a few members of his group followed, letting out small mocking sounds under their breath as they leaned back in their seats, clearly entertained.

Veda didn’t react immediately.

He stood still for a brief moment, his gaze steady, then his expression softened just a little...not in approval, but in restraint, as if he was holding something back.

”Felix...”

His voice came out calm, but there was weight behind it.

”Why are you like this?”

He took a small step forward, lowering the intensity in his stare, but not removing it entirely.

”This trial didn’t need any bloodshed. We could have ended things normally. There was nothing to prove... So why did you have to go that far?”

Felix blinked once, then tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely confused by the question.

”Go too far?”

He repeated slowly, turning his head toward his group.

”Did I actually go too far?”

He asked them casually, like it was a joke.

They all shook their heads almost at the same time, some smirking, others shrugging as if the answer was obvious.

”Even a baby would tell you that you went too far.”

Priscilla’s voice entered from the side, cutting through the moment cleanly.

She walked forward with her group, her posture straight, her expression sharp and her eyes fixed directly on Felix.

Felix turned his head to the right, catching sight of her, then slowly shifted his gaze to the left, noticing Henry’s group and Bale’s group also approaching.

His smile widened.

”Wow...”

He exhaled softly, almost impressed.

”Everyone is here to confront me.”

There was no discomfort in his tone, if anything, he sounded pleased.

”I’m not here to confront you, Felix.”

Henry spoke lazily, raising his index finger as he stepped forward slightly, his posture relaxed as if he had no real stake in the situation.

”I’m just here to watch the show.”

”I beg your pardon, Sir Henry,”

Bess stepped forward immediately after, moving ahead of him, her expression tight with anger as she stared directly at Felix.

”But I’m here to say what’s on my mind to this disgusting psycho.”

Her voice tone showed the clear rage she felt.

”That’s a bit harsh, Bess.”

Gareth spoke calmly, his tone gentle, almost as if he was trying to smooth things over.

”It’s not as bad as you thi...”

”Don’t talk to my vice-captain, you snake.”

Henry’s voice cut in sharply, his gaze snapping toward Gareth, his eyes narrowing with clear intent.

Gareth paused, then he looked back at Henry with his usual calm expression.

”Interesting choice of words, Henry.”

The two of them stood there, staring at each other, the tension between them stretching thin but sharp, like a blade that hadn’t yet been swung.

Henry’s gaze burned while Gareth’s remained steady.

”Cough...”

Freed stepped forward, adjusting his glasses with one hand, his expression composed as always.

”I don’t quite understand why everyone is here,”

He began, his tone measured, his eyes moving from Priscilla to Veda, then to Bale and Henry, as if addressing them collectively.

”But from what I can see, you are the ones acting out of line.”

His words were calm, but deliberate.

”The decision Sir Felix made was to establish true dominance, not that childish version of dominance that allowed the orphans to believe they could struggle and still believe that they had a chance, even when the results would remain the same.”

He paused briefly, adjusting his glasses again.

”Honestly, it was already irritating enough that some of them managed to win... or even draw against some of your members.”

His gaze sharpened slightly.

”And let’s not forget...Lady Vera herself made it clear that no one should lose to them. Yet... some of your people still did.”

There was confidence filled in his voice.

”I remember her saying she would kill those who lost.”

Page added lightly, lifting her drink and taking a small sip, her legs crossed as she leaned back in her seat, her tone casual, almost playful.

The words landed heavier than she said them.

”You know what’s actually irritating?”

Nate stepped forward slightly, his voice cutting through the conversation.

He looked directly at Felix and his group; his eyes no longer relaxed.

”Tearing a weak girl’s clothes... and calling that nobility.”

His words didn’t need to be loud because they carried enough weight on their own.

Felix’s head snapped toward him instantly.

The smile on his face tightened as the vein at the side of his head pulsed once.