‘Woah… maybe that was a bit too much…’
“How dare you, boy…?”
“The fledgling, questions Eldoris honor in front of Lady Vidalia…?”
“Death to the ungrateful brat!”
“Such blatant disrespect!”
If Damian was in their place, he’d probably say the same. However, some of them were actually giving it serious thought. Some older nobles and rough knights even looked amused. But Lady Vidalia was not impressed. Her stone-cold expression didn’t change at all; her piercing eyes seemed to look straight into his soul, as if she could see right through his bluff—which most of them probably could.
But that wasn’t the important part. He had questioned their justice and honor. If they brushed him aside without resolving the issue, it would cast a negative light on many of the nobles present. Yet, his issue couldn’t be easily solved because no one knew for sure what he had actually done.
Sometimes, you had to create a scene to escape immediate doom, a lesson Damian had learned from observing high school drama. It was the famous “Pretty girl debacle effect”—easy to notice, but very hard to escape from.
“Enough!” Lady Vidalia commanded.
The hall became quieter than a graveyard. If she wasn’t respected enough, she was certainly feared by the lot.
“That’s not pleading; that’s an argument I hear, boy… Are you saying my family has failed this kingdom?” she asked, showing a hint of displeasure on her otherwise stone-cold face.
“My lady… I mean no disrespect to your royal house…” Damian tried to calm her down.
“Answer the question, boy.”
Well, if she really wanted to hear it…
“In villages, when a mundane’s cattle hurts an innocent bystander, the responsibility lies with its owner. I don’t know how things work in cities, but someone has to take responsibility for their subordinates’ failures,” Damian replied, staring right back at the beautiful yet menacing third-ranker.
However with each passing second, he felt more and more aura pressure on his shoulders, forcing him to bend his knee, but he struggled on and stood straight. The aura seemed to affect only him—now that was a master in controlling aura if he had ever seen one. She could probably even rival that uncle of the Faerunian prince, their king’s guards knight commander with her gargantuan amount of mana.
Well, she had lived longer, so mastery on skills was a thing no one could match the elves in.
Suddenly, another copious amount of aura was released from the side as a wave of dangerous wind hit Damian in the face. One of the queen’s guards, standing beside the commander, was just a seconds away from his throat, her sword flaring with golden aura and her eyes filled with uncontrollable rage. Damian barely had a second to think.
With the commander’s aura holding him in place, he couldn’t even move fast enough, and there wasn’t enough time to begin with. Having no other choice, Damian brought his palm up and released the last line of defense he had for emergencies.
Instantly, an invisible box covered him, shattering moments later as the aura blade hit it. Though it saved Damian’s neck, it sent him flying into the wooden wall of the ornately decorated hall. The wall was thick, but it held, leaving a big hole. The impact made Damian cough up blood as he fell to the floor, landing on his knees.
Barely anyone had noticed what had just happened, except the second-rankers beside the commander. A commotion erupted but soon quieted down as everyone saw one of the queen’s guards with her sword outstretched, glaring at the boy on his knees, who looked up at both her and the commander behind her with eyes filled with unspoken fury.
“Makinah, calm down,” the commander ordered.
The woman, clad in splendid armor with a beautiful glowing sword, immediately turned back and kneeled in front of the commander in submission.
“I apologize for my rude actions, Commander. Punish me as you will…”
“You are dismissed..,” the commander ordered, gesturing for her to leave, which the rogue knight obeyed immediately.
“Is that proof enough, boy? Or do you still wish to continue this farce?” the commander said coldly, looking down at Damian.
Everyone had their mouths wide open at the violent attack—and even more so at Damian, who had survived it and was still standing. The Kiyama siblings looked at him as if heartbroken and betrayed. Some of the second-rankers smiled in amusement, while others wore serious expressions, trying to understand what had just happened.
Only the third-ranker and a few true mana sensitives had sensed the use of a spell without a single word, but the smoke rising from Damian’s burning palm was explanation enough for the clever ones.
Damian did not reply. His plan had failed miserably. Running in the dark of night seemed like his only option now. He hadn’t expected to be attacked so rudely. What if he really was innocent? These people were nuts.
Damian grunted and stood up, walking back to where he had been standing a few seconds ago, amidst the murmuring crowd.
“He is the spawn of the devil…” said the old man who had been so eager to charge Ashenvale forces into the Wraith’s Passage.
“No first-ranker could survive that,” added another man.
“Death to the abomination!” screamed one of them, and all started chanting, demanding his death.
“Silence!” shouted the other queen’s guard, making them stop.
“The punishment for murder is beheading,” the pretty elf began. “However, abilities rivaling the most genius youngsters in our kingdom cannot be overlooked. It would be too great a waste. Nature works in mysterious ways; perhaps it was the Goddess Astraea herself who sent him to us. Dawnstar cast him aside, not recognizing his talents. Eldoris will not repeat the same mistake.”
“My lady, I apologize for this rudeness, but my bro—” Lord Aramis protested, but a killer look and aura pressure from the commander that made his knees buckle silenced him.
“He is an ignorant child. You, on the other hand, have no excuses… I will not be merciful next time, Lord Aramis. Choose your words very carefully in the future,” the commander stated, her words as sharp as her gaze, scanning the whole hall, challenging anyone who had a problem with her judgment. No one dared to resist, as it should be.
He wasn’t getting a death sentence? That was indeed a point in his favor, but his misdeeds had been revealed in front of everyone. Staying here for long was not an option anymore. At least like this, he would get more chances to flee. However, in the very next minute, all his plans came crashing down.
Commander Vidalia stood up from her throne-like chair and performed some gestures toward him while chanting something so fast that Damian couldn’t even make out the words of. A white runic circle formed near her hand, turning half blue, half dirt yellow, with golden and fiery red mixed in.
Damian was so entranced by the different colors mixing together in the runic circle, forming a web of a very complex spell, that he didn’t notice its effect until roots or green vines sprouted from the wooden floor beneath him, coiling around his body, glowing ethereal green and golden.
It felt… wait, he couldn’t feel it on his skin. He was feeling the dense mana, not the physical bindings themselves, and from the lack of surprise around him, Damian guessed no one else could even see it. The vines entered his body as if he were a hologram, tightly coiling around his mana core and main mana veins.
‘What in the hell…? What is going on? What is this…?’
Damian tried pushing the ethereal vines with his own mana, but with each second, he was losing more and more control over the warm liquid mana he was always used to feel in his core. Damian tried [Mana Expulsion], but it just drained mana or locked the mana even faster. He didn’t feel tired or sleepy; it was just that his access to mana was being blocked by these vines all over his body.
‘Do not struggle, boy… It’s not something you can understand, even if you live for another hundred years…’
What the…? A voice was speaking directly into his head. It was her voice. Damian looked up and found her with the same neutral, stone-cold expression. Telepathy? How?
Just how weird was this spell that it even included a telepathy link? Could she read his mind?
No, there wasn’t even a minute change in her expression when he thought about modern Earth… She couldn’t read his memories… Just somehow communicate with him.
With no mana, Damian couldn’t draw spells with his World Shaper ability. He had enough scrolls in his storage to level a mountain, but even that required mana to retrieve. What a dumb idea it was to try and bluff his way in front of a third-ranker mage. What would his fate be now?