Orvelis Nightbane's private room atop the Upper Class dormitory tower was the tangible manifestation of absolute luxury. The walls were lined with purple silk, thick Persian carpets covered the floor, and furniture made of rare mahogany adorned every corner.
However, tonight, the room that usually radiated grandeur felt as cold and stiff as a tomb.
Marcus, Orvelis's personal shadow servant, stood near the fireplace with trembling hands. He held a newly arrived report parchment, his voice sounding hesitant as it broke the choking silence.
"...The underground vault at the Broken Fang tavern has been totally destroyed, Young Master. All the gold and silver coins vanished. And the worst part... the Ledger storing transaction records, instructor names, and our faction's fund flows... has been taken away."
In the middle of the room, Silas the black market broker who usually always wore a sly smile now knelt with his face pressed to the floor. Cold sweat flooded his pale face.
"This is nonsense!"
An angry exclamation split the room. Damius, one of Orvelis's noble followers whose arm was still wrapped in bandages from the fight in the Forbidden Forest, stepped forward with a beet-red face.
"There is no way that trash Draven could do this!" snapped Damius, pointing at the shivering Silas. "Breaching the anti-magic armor guard and defusing the Black Tower's Blood Curse Rune? That Basic Class rat almost died bitten by a wolf just a week ago! This must be an operation by the Morcant Faction's elite knights! Lysandra Morcant planned this to bring us down!"
Other nobles in the room began to murmur in agreement. Denial was the best shield for their elitist egos. Admitting that an outcast was capable of paralyzing their economy was tantamount to admitting defeat.
"I-It is true, Young Master..." Silas spoke up, his voice trembling violently accompanied by sobs of fear. The broker dared not lift his face from the carpet. "M-my sewer guards saw it. The outcast giant from the Basic Class and the bespectacled female cadet... they were the ones who made off with the vault. Master, I beg your forgiveness, I do not know how they-"
The nobles' commotion and Silas's crying suddenly died.
Not because Orvelis shouted. The Duke's Heir did not make a single sound. He remained sitting cross-legged in his velvet chair, one hand resting on his chin, while the other held a porcelain teacup.
His expression was perfectly flat.
However, the air inside the room suddenly changed.
It felt as if an incredibly thick and wet invisible blanket had been dropped from the ceiling. The air thickened until it was almost unbreathable. The ticking sound of the antique wall clock in the corner of the room sounded strange, slowing down, as if time itself were forced to bow.
Crack.
The expensive porcelain cup in Orvelis's hand suffered a hairline fracture. He did not squeeze it; the air pressure around him was what destroyed it.
The next second, that absolute gravity magic was dropped completely, centered right on Silas the Snake's body.
BAM!
Silas didn't even have time to scream. His skinny body hit the floor as if just struck by a one-ton stone block from the sky.
CRUNCH!
A horrifying cracking sound was heard from Silas's ribs breaking and bending inward. His nose shattered hitting the wooden floor beneath the carpet, spurting fresh blood that instantly splattered flat over the expensive Persian weave. The sound of carpet fibers tearing due to the pressure of Silas's body sounded sickening.
The broker convulsed for a moment, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. That absolute pressure destroyed his nervous system control, causing warm fluid to seep wetting his pants, dirtying the floor with a humiliating smell of urine.
The residual leak of that gravity magic spread throughout the room. Damius and the other nobles immediately fell to their knees, their faces turning blue as their lungs struggled for oxygen that seemed sucked dry from the air.
In the furthest corner, Elara stood frozen. Her hands gripped the tea tray tightly, her body trembling so violently that her teeth chattered holding back paralyzing horror.
Orvelis placed his cracked cup onto the table without spilling a single drop of tea.
"Marcus," called Orvelis, his voice very calm, almost like a soft whisper, yet echoing deadly in the ears of everyone choking on the air. "Contact the Black Wolf Syndicate tonight. How much liquid funds do we have left in the treasury?"
Marcus, who was also kneeling withstanding the gravity pressure, had to struggle to scoop up air before he could answer.
"Y-Young Master..." Marcus's voice was broken. "Our liquid budget... is completely drained. The gold in Silas's vault was our main operational fund this month. The rest... the rest of our funds you have allocated entirely to bribe the supervising instructors to prepare... the 'Midterm Exam Stage' to eliminate Draven's group."
A choking silence once again seized the room.
Inside his head, Orvelis's political brain spun fast, weighing this disgusting reality.
His first option was to extort the vassals and subordinate nobles to gather emergency funds. But no, that would only show his weakness as a leader; those dogs would begin to doubt his fangs.
The second option was to send a letter to his father, Duke Nightbane, to ask for financial help.
Orvelis almost snorted thinking of that option. That was political suicide. His father adhered to the absolute law of the jungle. If the Duke knew his heir whined begging for coins just to kill a 'sewer rat' from the Basic Class, Orvelis's inheritance rights would be revoked before dawn.
In Aethelgard, the weak were prey, even if you were the Duke's own flesh and blood.
Orvelis had to maintain his prestige. He had to solve this Draven problem with the remaining resources.
Slowly, the heavy air lifted slightly.
The nobles scooped up oxygen greedily. Silas coughed violently, vomiting clots of blood onto the carpet. He sobbed uncontrollably, his body shattered yet still holding onto a sliver of life permitted by his master.
"Listen to me carefully, Silas," said Orvelis coldly, staring in disgust at the broker who wet himself on his floor. "You think Lysandra Morcant will bring your Ledger to the Senate and drag my name into it? You are wrong."
Orvelis leaned forward, his eyes radiating impenetrable arrogance.
"The laws in this empire are written by my father. If Morcant dares to submit that book officially, my name will be erased from every page by the instructors before the document even reaches the trial desk. But your name, Silas... your name will remain there. You are the one who will rot on the Student Senate gallows, not me."
Silas cried even harder, realizing that he was merely a meat shield to be sacrificed at any time.
"But Morcant is not stupid. She will not use legal channels," continued Orvelis, dropping his ultimatum. "She will use that book to map our weaknesses. Their next target is definitely our illegal potion supply route."
Orvelis stood up. His shadow elongated under the crystal lamp light.
"Go to the East Sector warehouse right now," commanded Orvelis absolutely, like a god of death handing down a verdict. "Mobilize all the remaining mercenary dogs who are still willing to accept your silver coins. Protect our last asset tonight. Fail, and I will not leave a single member of your family in the capital just to bury your corpse. Understood?"
"U-understood, Master... I will secure it with my life!" sobbed Silas, crawling backward with great difficulty dragging his broken ribs, before finally being helped by two knights to exit the room.
Orvelis waved his hand lazily. "All of you, get out of my room. The stench of your fear makes my tea taste bitter."
Damius and the other nobles hurriedly stood up, bowed respectfully with trembling bodies, then scrambled out of the room like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
"Elara," called Orvelis, stopping the girl's steps at the threshold. "Clean up the mess on my desk. I want this carpet replaced before tomorrow morning."
Orvelis then turned, stepped into his private bedroom, and closed the door forcefully.
Elara was left alone in the room that still retained its gripping cold aura.
The blonde girl swallowed saliva that felt as sharp as sand. Her legs were weak. She staggered approaching Orvelis's desk, then slowly dropped to her knees near Silas's blood spill.
With hands still trembling violently, Elara began picking up the shards of the porcelain cup on the desk one by one.
A sharp edge of the porcelain scratched her finger, drawing a drop of blood, yet she barely felt the pain. The pain in her finger was overshadowed by the mental shock that had just shattered her sanity.
Her mind spun wildly.
Kael Draven.
The youth who always used to smile at her. The youth who made his back a stepping stone so Elara wouldn't step in the mud. The youth who always cried when beaten by nobles, yet never once ran away leaving Elara.
Now, that weak youth had transformed into an untouchable monster. A monster that had just sent the strongest faction in the Aethelgard Academy into a panic and cornered the heir of Duke Nightbane.
Along with that realization, an incredibly bitter sense of regret clogged Elara's throat. A teardrop fell, wetting the porcelain shard in her hand.
She once thought Kael was a burden that would drag her to the bottom of the abyss of suffering. She betrayed the youth to seek safety under the protection of Orvelis Nightbane.
But tonight, seeing Orvelis crush Silas's body without the slightest mercy, Elara realized the most tragic irony in her life.
She did not find safety. She had thrown away the person willing to die countless times for her, only to voluntarily lock herself inside a golden cage with a psychopathic demon.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut tightly as tears of fear streamed profusely down her cheeks. She knew Orvelis could kill her anytime if his mood worsened. She was alone. Trapped.
In the darkness of her despair-filled heart, for the first time since the day of betrayal under the rain, Elara's lips trembled chanting a selfish and very dark prayer.
Win, Kael, screamed Elara inwardly, squeezing the porcelain shard until blood dripped from her hand. Please... destroy this place. Crush this monster to the ground.