The whispers of disrespect had barely faded when the serene tableau on the mountain outcrop shattered. In a blur of crimson and lavender, Aikno and Yuizko descended, moving with a speed that defied mortal comprehension. One moment, the offending students were snickering, the next, their throats were caught in an iron grip.

Aikno's slender, yet impossibly strong fingers clamped around the neck of the first student, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. His feet dangled uselessly, his face rapidly purpling as he clawed at her hand. Her ruby eyes, usually so captivating, now burned with a cold, murderous fury. "You dare speak such filth?" her voice, usually so composed, was a low, guttural snarl, laced with venom. "You pathetic, insignificant worm. To even think such blasphemy against our Master... your life is less than the dirt beneath his glorious feet." She squeezed harder, a sickening gurgle escaping the student's lips as his eyes bulged, piss beginning to stain the front of his training gi.

Beside her, Yuizko held the second student aloft, her grip equally merciless. Her amethyst eyes, usually filled with seductive warmth, were now sharp shards of ice, reflecting the terror in the student's rapidly fading gaze. A sweet, chilling smile played on her lips, a stark contrast to the death grip she maintained. "Oh, darling," she purred, her voice a melodic whisper that promised agony, "did you truly believe your petty insults would go unheard? Did you truly think you could defile our Master's name and live to tell the tale? How utterly adorable in your ignorance." She leaned in close, her breath ghosting over his ear, "He is not 'strong because of us,' you insolent pig. We are strong for him. And for that, you will pay with every last drop of your miserable existence." A faint, sickening crack echoed as she tightened her hold, the student's body convulsing weakly.

Their eyes, ruby and amethyst, met for a fleeting moment, a silent, shared understanding passing between them. The students' lives were forfeit. Their hands tensed, ready to snap the fragile necks, to silence the disrespect forever, to offer these pathetic lives as a bloody testament to their Master's glory.

Just as the final, fatal squeeze was about to be delivered, a soft, almost imperceptible yawn drifted through the crisp morning air. A figure emerged from the mist-shrouded path leading from the temple, rubbing at his eyes with the back of a hand. It was there beloved master, his loose sleeping robes swaying gently, his eyes blinking slowly, heavy with sleep, utterly oblivious to the scene of impending carnage before him.