Back in the battlefield of a ballroom, a place for grace and relaxation now turned into a bloodied graveyard for those who defy the sleuth, the nobleman stood his ground.

"Ah, how wonderful, you're already here! Honestly, I really do appreciate all of you, I've hardly had to go out of my way to hunt any of you down--you all seem so eager to meet your end," Rouge stepped into the ballroom, brushing off the sediment of battle from his coat.

"Stop your mockery, fiend."

"Come now, I am mocking no one. Is it so wrong to try and be polite to the person you're about to stick full of blades? I would hate for you to die with rage in your heart, Lord Althaus," Rouge gave him a concerned look.

To endure the frivolous attitude of the Argonaut was a herculean feat in itself when faced with the outlet in which to take his inner rage out--the carefree man acted as if the slaughtering was but a game for him. He came to the conclusion that there was no point in buying into his own rage, it would only fuel the Argonaut's enjoyment further.

"No response? Don't try to shy away from me, Lord Althaus, I know high-strung noblemen like yourself are the last ones to seal their lips," Rouge cackled at his own words.

Althaus didn't fall for the bait once again, much to the dismay of the bloodthirsty fiend, whose joyful smile quickly dropped to a chilling frown.

"I don't like to be ignored, you know? I really, really don't like it, Althaus," Rouge's tone became foiled in a wave of monotone anger, "if I had to rank all the things in this world that angered me, being ignored would be in the top three. Do you want to know what the other two are, Althaus? You know what, I'll tell you anyways, I'm sure you'd like to know."

Rouge raised his hand, holding up two fingers to show to the nobleman, who watched him in stoic silence, awaiting his move.

"Number two: I'd have to say I hate those who dress like they plan to match the gloomy dirt they walk on. Seriously, it is a sore sight--express yourself! It is one thing if it is a peasant who can't afford anything besides the potato sack they were born wearing, but if you have money to spend? It takes every ounce of willpower I have to not slice apart dreadfully, boring people like that on the spot," Rouge lowered one finger as he finished his needless rant.

After he finished his spiel, he cupped his ear, leaning forward as if waiting for a response from the nobleman once again.

"Nothing, again? I guess at the very least you've been a respectable listener! Here is my number one then: I hate skin. It is the bane of my existence--the one thing that keeps my eyes from experiencing the everlasting ecstasy that is the beautiful shade of crimson within us all! Yes, I have been granted a power that allows me to overcome this heinous barrier of flesh, but the fact that skin already exists puts me in quite the moral dilemma, you see! I can't just go around, cutting apart everyone I see, I'd be quite the monster, no? That is why--That is why! I have to hunt down these otherworlders to get my fix, and I am especially blessed when people like you are caught harboring such beings. Don't get me wrong--I don't hate these poor otherworlders, in fact--I love them, with all of my being! They've granted me this opportunity in a world that oppressed love such as mine, to enact it in the name of justice! How beautiful is that? I am on the verge of tears, and your silence is only partly to blame."

Just the very talk of blood seemed to rile the eccentric man, a twisted expression forming on his face as his hands twitched at the very thought of red.

"Are you done now, Sir Rouge?" Althaus finally spoke again.

"What a bore you are. I heard tales of your oddities, so I expected much more from you. So be it--I've decided to play with you some," Rouge smirked, tipping his hat.

Despite the almost mindlessly abhorrent nature of the villain before him, the aura emanating from him was telling enough of his vast power. Just one sense of the burgundy air that loomed over the Argonaut confirmed that he indeed was more than capable of putting down even a legend like Norbert. Althaus wasn't one prone to battle, but his inherited magical talent as a noble gave him the power needed to make up for his lack of experience.

"Wasser Blade--!" Althaus yelled out, commanding his mana into a spell.

The nobleman snapped his fingers towards Rouge, dozens of azure particles meeting and condensing into a thin blade of water before being sent flying towards the wicked man. As it carved through the rugged ground, the target before him stood still with a smile, as if welcoming the attack.

"What is he planning--?" Althaus thought to himself, confused by the lack of action from the man.

In a disappointing fashion, the blade met directly with Rouge's chest, only to dissipate without any noticeable effect.

"How disappointing. You got my suit wet, how dare you! Ah, I'm joking--I'm already covered in blood from your precious underlings," Rouge laughed.

"How--is your reinforcement magic just that powerful?"

"Amongst my colleagues, I'd say my reinforcement is quite pitiful--but, alas, it's enough for you" Rouge retained his frivolous smile.

"It's...that's not possible…!" Althaus' words barely escaped his throat, feeling the full difference in their power.

At the sight of his despair, Rouge savored the expression--his grin twisting until his cheeks formed deep dimples. He raised both arms in a dramatic fashion as if trying to appease an audience, clapping both his hands together.

"I suppose it is my turn to attack--since you've shown me some of your magic, I'll return the favor," The Argonaut's voice fell to a low--"Blutfehler Art: Crimson River."