OHNIR – Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Confrontation

The Marquis Charles family was large and influential, and since the end of the Age of Gods, it had naturally acquired many relatives through marriage.

Bronk was the son of a viscount. His father's older sister had married one of Marquis Charles's cousins, thereby establishing a connection with the marquis's family.

But Bronk was, after all, only a viscount's son and was far from qualified to attend a tea party hosted by the princess herself. Therefore, he wasn't at Swan Lake. Instead, at his father's request, he had accompanied him to the marquis's residence to discuss a fairly substantial tobacco deal.

However, before Bronk could even warm his seat and just as the viscount was beginning to speak, the magnificent, heavy wooden doors of the reception hall were violently shoved open from the outside.

The young lady of the Charles family burst in, wiping away tears. Her eyes were nearly as red as her hair from crying, and the hem of her magnificent, floor-length gown was stained with dirt. She made a beeline straight for the marquis, burying her face in his chest and smearing snot and tears all over his crisp formal attire, leaving Bronk and the viscount utterly dumbfounded.

Lady Avia was known for being spoiled and willful, but her noble etiquette had always been impeccable! How could she lose her composure so completely today?

The marquis, whose precious daughter was being gawked at in her disheveled state, was also displeased. To make matters worse, Bronk's expression of schadenfreude was far too obvious—not that he could be blamed, as he was a frequent target of Avia's bullying. Consequently, before they had been in the residence for even fifteen minutes, the viscount and his son were politely but coldly shown out of the garden by the butler.

The business deal fell through completely. Bronk, having caused the disaster, was disciplined by his father. The next day, he limped into the academy only to be mocked by several noble girls. Even the infirmary doctor seemed to kick him while he was down, telling him to get medicine from the potions professor himself! After enduring a barrage of sarcasm from the ill-tempered professor, the unlucky Bronk was furious and desperate for an outlet. Naturally, his thoughts turned to Musen, a well-known punching bag among the minor nobility.

Musen was a recently enrolled first-year student. Rumor had it that he was a beggar before coming to the academy. He was thin and small, looking at first glance to be barely over ten years old. He was usually extremely taciturn, with a gloomy disposition. Even commoner students tended to avoid him with disgust.

If that were all, it might have been fine; students of low status were not unheard of at the academy. The real reason Musen attracted so much bullying was his hair and eye color.

Both were a pure, flawless black.

During the age of the Nobili pantheon, the Dark Goddess Talebris, in opposition to her sister Clara, led other gods to create the demons. They inherited the same black hair and black eyes as the Dark Goddess herself. In war after war, the demons cunningly used their appearance to infiltrate the human race and slaughter them from within. Over time, humans, unable to distinguish the spies, began to indiscriminately hate all creatures with black hair and black eyes—including their own true compatriots.

They said it was the mark of the demons, who were unclean, filthy, and vile.

Although this prejudice gradually faded with time after the end of the Cruel Era, people still subconsciously recoiled from humans with black hair and black eyes as if from a venomous snake. Before the Nobili Kingdom was established, some fanatical regions even had the custom of burning such people at the stake...

To this day, someone like Musen, with no background or backing, was an easy target for the nobles' wanton bullying.

So, after taking his potion, Bronk gathered a few of his cronies to cause trouble for Musen. After a thorough beating, he looked down at the boy, who was curled up and trembling involuntarily from the pain. Most of his anger had finally dissipated.

He released his grip on Musen's hair, and the boy's forehead slammed onto the ground with a thud, cut open and bleeding from the sharp gravel.

The pitiful sight failed to elicit a shred of sympathy from his tormentor. Bronk clicked his tongue in disgust, pulled out a handkerchief to slowly wipe his hands, and then viciously kicked Musen's arm.

A faint crack of bone sounded. The black-haired boy let out a muffled groan, cold sweat trickling down his neck and dripping onto his tattered old academy uniform.

"Bronk, that's enough," the only noble present who had merely watched without laying a hand on Musen said with a frown. "If you actually kill him, none of us will escape the consequences."

Bronk snorted, glaring at his friend with a sinister gaze. "Consequences? What consequences do I have to fear! My father's tobacco deal fell through. Without the marquis's help, how are we supposed to open up channels to dump it on the commoners? It's all that Avia Charles's fault!"

His expression was murderous, but he didn't dare raise his voice, hissing through clenched teeth, "It was her own damn fault for being tactless and provoking Lady Gloria at the tea party, that's why she was punished! On what grounds is Marquis Charles targeting our family? Just because I watched his daughter's little spectacle? It's absurd! Doesn't he know that seventy percent of the nobles in the capital are waiting to see their family made into a joke?"

"Bronk, watch your mouth!" The noble who had tried to stop him earlier was no longer so calm. He glanced around in alarm and snapped, "Are the duke's daughter and the Charles family people you can just gossip about? We don't even know what happened at the tea party. If you want to die, do it alone. Don't drag the rest of us down with you."

Another boy, apparently from some insignificant noble family, watched the two face off, so nervous he hardly dared to breathe.

Bronk's face twisted for a moment. He was about to retort when he saw the other noble's expression suddenly change. No longer looking at him, the noble turned swiftly toward a nearby flowerbed and snapped in a low voice, "Who's there? Come out!"

The previously still, withered yellow-green flowerbed rustled. As the boys watched tensely, a fair hand slowly pushed aside the vines, dislodging a few withered petals. Kelusta emerged slowly from the bushes, patted the dirt from her skirt, and gave them a lazy smile.

"Ganging up to cause trouble, harming a fellow student, and even speaking ill of the Charles family behind their backs." The brown-haired girl's gaze swept over Musen, who lay quietly on the ground, barely breathing. She frowned imperceptibly and said lightly, "Gentlemen, why don't you take a guess—if someone were to find out what you've all done today... would you be sent home to reflect, or would you be expelled outright?"

Bronk quickly sized up the girl who had appeared out of nowhere.

She was extraordinarily beautiful. Though her dress and boots were stained with mud, they could still tell the materials were expensive. Her golden eyes watched them with a hint of a cool smile, and for a moment, the two leading noble boys couldn't figure out her background.

If she were a noble, a lady of such beauty would surely be famous by now; there was no reason they wouldn't recognize her. But if she wasn't a noble, her expensive, albeit dirty, dress and her natural air of confidence couldn't be faked. Neither of them dared to jump to a conclusion.

Bronk glanced cautiously at his friend, only to find him frowning, studying Kelusta's brilliant eyes with a probing gaze.

Such pure golden eyes...

He hesitated, opening his mouth as if to say something, but was cut off by the insignificant noble boy beside Bronk, who hadn't spoken in a long while.

"I recognize you!"

The boy pointed at the composed brown-haired girl, his voice a mixture of shock and anger. "You're that country bumpkin commoner who sleeps through history class every day!"

Kelusta: “…”

"I do not sleep every day!" she fumed at the System. "And—how am I a country bumpkin? Look at what he's wearing! Such tacky, outdated clothes, and he has the nerve to call me a country bumpkin?!"

"..." the System said, speechless. "Besides sleeping in history class, the only other thing you've done is draw... Also, one more thing: while your temporary vessel's clothes are indeed quite fashionable, allow me to remind you—they're actually Gloria's."

Kelusta thought about her own few rag-like dresses and sullenly shut her mouth.

Her focus had been on the adjective, but the two nobles' focus was on the noun. Bronk's expression darkened again. Even the other noble, who had seemed about to speak, pressed his lips together. To them, Kelusta's silence was a tacit admission of the boy's accusation.

A commoner dared to swagger in here and threaten them with expulsion?

Bronk's lips curled into a ferocious grin. "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" he said coldly. "See this unclean thing?"

He stepped aside, revealing the battered Musen to Kelusta. Just as he expected, the brown-haired girl's brow furrowed. He declared smugly, "Wait a little longer, and you'll share his fate!"

As he spoke, he raised his wrist slightly.

Kelusta keenly sensed the ground beneath her feet begin to tremble. She leaped aside alertly, and a second later, a sharp earthen spike shot up from the spot where she had just been standing.

An Earth Mage.

Kelusta's expression darkened. With a fierce wave of her hand, a jet of water gathered from nowhere shot out like an arrow from a bow, violently splitting the earthen spike in two.

According to the customs of Nobili, destroying another person's magical construct was considered a provocative act.

"A Water Mage?" The other noble was still staring into Kelusta's eyes. "Bronk, be careful," he said probingly. "It's best not to hurt her..."

"What are you afraid of, Lewis!" Bronk shouted, glaring resentfully at his shattered spike. "Don't tell me you've taken a fancy to this wench?!"

Lewis's expression stiffened. He shot Bronk a cold look. "Even if we grew up together, Bronk," he said, his voice laced with ice, "you should watch your mouth!"

Bronk muttered a curse but said no more to Lewis. He clamped his mouth shut and began to focus on attacking Kelusta with his magic.

The loose soil of the flowerbed became Bronk's weapon. He condensed it into dirt clods of various sizes and hurled them at Kelusta. The girl's long hair whipped through the flying dust as she wove water into a large net that enveloped each clod. As Kelusta dodged nimbly, the water saturated the soil, turning the projectiles into clumps of mud that fell limply from the air and splattered on the ground.

Bronk's magic began to falter. His talent was far inferior to Kelusta's. Even as a second-year who had taken many classes, forming a single earthen spike and manipulating the loose topsoil was the extent of his ability. The insignificant first-year noble was useless, staring dumbfounded at Kelusta's skillful magic. Lewis, for his part, seemed to have no intention of helping, merely watching with a mocking expression as Bronk's attacks slowed.

Seeing his mud clods completely neutralized by Kelusta's water, Bronk was furious. He held back for as long as he could before finally snapping, turning to roar at Lewis, "How long are you going to stand there and watch?! If she takes that filthy thing to the old principal, do you think you'll get away with it?"

Bronk was, of course, referring to Musen, whom he had beaten so brutally.

Lewis frowned, apparently swayed by his words. He impatiently waved his sleeve in a standard spellcasting gesture. Kelusta whipped her head around and, just as she expected, saw the few remaining green vines behind her slowly raising their tips and creeping toward her.

...This Wood Magic was much stronger than Kevit's.

Kelusta mused to herself as she casually turned the last dirt clod into a puddle of mud. Then she calmly stopped and faced them, as if completely unaware of the danger creeping up behind her.

Bronk and the other boy's eyes widened in excitement, but Lewis hesitated.

He had clearly seen her notice his vines... so why was she showing no reaction now?

At the same time, Musen, still curled on the ground and obscured by the others, seemed to stir. A cool breeze brushed against Kelusta's skirt, and the vines swayed as if no longer under control.

Lewis frowned. Just as he was about to reassert control—

A thick black mist billowed out from a corner of the flowerbed, forming into chains that shot toward Lewis and the others. The boy who had identified Kelusta screamed and tried to flee, but he was swallowed by the surging mist before he could take a step.

The wind had stopped at some unknown point.

Kelusta curiously reached out to touch a few wisps of black mist still drifting in the air, but she felt nothing. Hearing soft footsteps approach, she didn't even turn her head, instead continuing to grasp at the air. "Huh," she asked, puzzled, "why can't I touch it?"

Gloria waved her hand, her expression placid. As the mist began to dissipate, she said patiently, "Dark Magic only becomes tangible when under a mage's control. If you want to play with it, I can conjure something for you next time."

"Yay—" Kelusta beamed and moved closer. Gloria shifted away uncomfortably, her blue eyes glancing at Kelusta, who alertly noticed the faint blush that still lingered on her cheeks.

Kelusta said mischievously, "Are you blushing, Senior?"

Gloria was clearly still dwelling on Kelusta's earlier "I like you the most, Senior." She hesitated, then ignored the comment and continued to disperse the last remnants of the Dark Magic.

The black mist finally dissipated completely, revealing the three noble boys, their hands bound by chains of shadow. Bronk and the other boy stared at Gloria in shock, while Lewis shot a quick, inscrutable glance at Kelusta.

Kelusta: What are you looking at me for?

But it was only a glance. Lewis quickly lowered his head and fell silent, adopting the posture of someone who knew they were in the wrong.

Gloria's gaze swept over the three boys. It barely lingered on Bronk and the other one, as if they weren't worth a moment of her attention.

Finally, her gaze settled on Lewis. "Lewis Hippol, eldest son of Count Hippol," she stated calmly. "Please raise your head, sir."

The duke's daughter said lightly, "I do hope you can provide an explanation for this that I find satisfactory."

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