So by the title you are a boy who died in his 20s you are then given a chance to live again and you get to choose your ability's (I choose) and you are Arthur brother and all pics and story's belong to there creators not me and ideas as well from ot...
It didn't take long for caera to leave as she had guests to see. And from my senses I could tell it was one of arts partners. But before I could get up and follow something appeared in the corner of my eye
Satan: "hmm. Interesting I didn't think I would be losing this game since you came." I then had a grin on my face
???: "your little tactics on our king have left him a bit angry. So it's quite the achievement to come this far."
Satan: "well I haven't lost yet so go back to your master like a good dog...xiaochen"
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Satan: "nothing stopping you! COME ON I WILL GIVE YOU THE FIRST HIT!"
Xiaochen: " I will glad—"
Nessa, then bursted into the room only to find no one inside: "what the? I thought I heard something?"
Satan: ["tch...I was hoping for something interesting to happen today"]
I then easily went past her and walked into the hallway to see what caera was doing to mostly pass the time. too bad I couldn't fight a bishop though I would have won it would have been way more fun to fight then this.
(Caera POV)
I had the good grace to compose myself before stepping through the open doorway, however.
The receiving room was less comfortable than the drawing room, which was intended only for members of our blood, but was more opulent, carefully designed to instill a sense of wonder and awe on the highlord's guests.
Not that we ever had guests or visitors here...
Portraits of severe- looking men and women—previous highlords and ladies, mostly—glowered down from the walls, and several high-backed chairs surrounded an open fireplace that burned either blue or scarlet when it was lit.
Inside the room, I found my adoptive father facing off with the two men. The three were standing, and the fireplace was cold and empty. Although Corbett Denoir's cross-armed stance and haughty scowl were hardly unusual for the highlord, our visitors weren't what I expected.
The first man was older, and thickly built, perhaps once a soldier or even an ascender, but he had clearly let himself go. His gray hair and beard had been heavily oiled and gleamed in the warm receiving room light, and his fine clothes hung from him awkwardly. He watched the highlord restlessly as his companion spoke, and his hands kept patting something inside his jacket.
He was certainly not the type of man who usually called on Highlord Denoir.
His companion, on the other hand, was his opposite in almost every way. Despite Corbett's cold stare, the stranger seemed perfectly at ease. Tall and broad-shouldered, with the easy grace of a trained warrior, he had the air of nobility, but I couldn't recall ever seeing him before. His suit was finely tailored, a muted olive that highlighted his emerald-green eyes and showed off his athletic physique.
