Orvelis Nightbane's luxurious room atop the Upper Class dormitory tower usually radiated absolute grandeur. Tonight, however, the place felt as suffocating as a gold-plated coffin.
The scent of sandalwood incense wafted far too thickly from the fireplace, creating a nauseating aroma. The only sound was the slow ticking of an antique pendulum clock in the corner of the room, seemingly counting down the seconds to destruction.
On the long mahogany desk, scrolls of bankruptcy reports piled up in a chaotic mess. Orvelis sat leaning back stiffly, both hands massaging his violently throbbing temples.
In the corner of the room, Marcus the shadow servant and Damius stood frozen. Cold sweat dripped down their foreheads. Near the fireplace, Elara Sam stood with a deathly pale face. Both her hands trembled violently as she held a silver tea tray, holding her breath with all her might so the porcelain cups atop it would not clink.
"Who..." whispered Orvelis, breaking the silence. His voice was incredibly soft, yet every syllable radiated deadly venom. "Tell me, Marcus. Who is the dog capable of hacking the Black Tower Blood Curse Rune from underground without triggering an explosion?"
Marcus swallowed saliva that felt as sharp as glass shards. "W-We are still investigating it, Young Master. The Head Instructor is also confused."
"Shut your mouth if you do not have an answer!" cut Orvelis with a sharp hiss without lifting his face. "The Morcant Faction does not possess an alchemy expert that insane. Lysandra has legally taken over our entire East Sector route. Silas is dead. My Ledger is gone. And you all just stand there like stupid statues!"
Damius gathered his courage to step forward. "Sir, give me time. I will gather the remaining knights and hunt them down."
BOOM!
Damius's words were cut off by the sound of a massive explosion. The giant two-inch-thick mahogany door of the room suddenly exploded into pieces from the outside.
Sharp wooden splinters shot in all directions. One of them grazed deep into Damius's cheek, drawing blood. Elara let out a stifled scream and dropped her tea tray, crouching down to cover her ears.
The smell of sandalwood incense vanished instantly, swept away by the metallic stench of fresh blood, cheap antiseptic medicine, and absolute killing intent.
From behind the billowing wood dust, Lord Valerius marched in.
The Direct Envoy of the Central Empire no longer looked like an elegant high official. His maroon silk suit had been replaced by a dirty, stained emergency medical gown. His aristocratic face was severely bruised, his nose broken and heavily bandaged. But the most horrifying sight was his right side. Lord Valerius's right arm had been amputated at the elbow, wrapped in thick bandages that still seeped fresh blood onto the Persian carpet.
Behind him, a dozen Imperial Elite Knights stormed in brutally. They immediately formed a semicircle, aiming their silver spears directly at the necks of Orvelis, Marcus, and Damius.
"Lord Valerius? What is the meaning of this barbaric act?!" exclaimed Orvelis, instinctively standing up from his chair. "This is my private dormitory!"
Instead of answering, Valerius reached into the pocket of his medical gown with his left hand. He threw a metal object wrapped in a dirty cloth in front of Orvelis. The object landed on top of the pile of reports on his desk.
It was the Raven Emblem of the Nightbane Faction.
"You robbed me because your faction went bankrupt, Orvelis?!" roared Lord Valerius. His voice shrieked insanely, the veins in his neck bulging like worms. "You hired a giant street dog to cut off my arm in the middle of the capital just for a bottle of monster marrow?!"
Orvelis was stunned. He stared at the metal emblem on his desk. A highly familiar distinct aroma emanated from the cloth wrapping the emblem. A sharp acidic smell, along with the sweet, rotting stench of Black-Lotus.
The genius brain of the Duke's heir worked at lightning speed. The scattered information in his head suddenly connected into a horrifying straight line.
The loss of the Ledger. The destruction of the Black-Lotus Warehouse. The robbery of the Imperial Envoy.
Orvelis's purple eyes widened slightly. The realization hit him like an invisible sledgehammer. He was not merely unlucky. The Morcant Faction was not stupid enough to leave behind traces. He was being pitted against the empire. Someone had woven this scenario flawlessly. An invisible Architect of Death had just pointed the imperial executioner's sword right at his neck.
"Lord Valerius, please listen to me!" said Orvelis, forcing his signature diplomatic tone to control the situation. "This is cheap slander! Another faction framed me tonight! All my knights never left the dormitory."
"SAVE YOUR SNAKE TONGUE, NIGHTBANE!" roared Valerius, cutting off Orvelis's words with spit flying from his mouth. "The evidence is far too clear! My magic knights tracked the trail of your illegal potion from the shattered axle of my carriage!"
"That is a planted scenario!" retorted Orvelis, beginning to lose his patience. "I have no reason to attack you!"
"You lost all your wealth last night! Of course you have a reason to seize my auction items!" Valerius stepped forward, pointing at Orvelis's face with his trembling left index finger. "Because you possess Duke's blood, I do not have the authority to behead you in this room."
Valerius took a harsh breath, his eyes burning with boiling hatred.
"But listen to this carefully, you arrogant brat," hissed Valerius deadly. "I have sent an emergency letter to your father through a special communication line. I will drag you to the Imperial High Court! Prepare to lose your inheritance rights, Orvelis!"
Lord Valerius turned around roughly, his medical gown fluttering. "Withdraw the troops! Let this dog rot waiting for his summons!"
The Imperial Knights pulled back their spears in unison and marched out following Lord Valerius, leaving the room in an incredibly gripping silence.
Orvelis slumped back into his chair. His facade of calmness, the absolute arrogance he always wore like armor, was completely shattered tonight. His face was deathly pale.
Suddenly, through the gap of the open glass window, a gust of cold night wind blew in, carrying a bird. A massive black raven, with both eyes glowing bright purple, glided into the room.
It was a special messenger magic Familiar from the main lineage of the Nightbane family.
The raven landed on the desk, dropping a parchment stamped with blood wax right onto Orvelis's lap. Once its task was completed, the bird melted into flakes of black ash carried away by the wind.
With trembling hands, Orvelis broke the blood seal and opened the parchment.
Orvelis's eyes read the string of brief sentences written in golden ink. It was an Absolute Decree from his father. The Duke of Nightbane. Orvelis was ordered to return to the main territory this very night in preparation for interrogation and defense at the Imperial Court. He was officially withdrawn from the activities of Aethelgard Academy.
His line of defense collapsed instantly.
Orvelis's anger reached its peak. He did not scream. He did not cry. He merely ground his teeth together until the rough grinding sound of jawbones could be heard.
His Gravity Magic leaked uncontrollably.
CRACK!
The room instantly shook violently. The air pressure inside the chamber solidified a thousandfold in a matter of seconds. The mahogany wood floor cracked severely, buckling upward. The remaining window glass and mirrors in the room exploded into tiny shards.
"ARGH!" Marcus and Damius immediately fell face-first to the floor. Their bodies felt as if pressed down by an ocean of lead. They gasped heavily, barely able to expand their lungs to breathe.
In the corner by the fireplace, Elara Sam was thrown to the floor extremely hard. Her expensive dress was soiled. She held her breath with great difficulty, her chest experiencing extraordinary tightness.
With blurred vision, Elara looked up at Orvelis's face across the room. That handsome face was now distorted by despair, shattered arrogance, and endless hatred.
At this point, the illusion inside Elara's head shattered completely. The "absolute protector" she had chosen at the cost of everything, could apparently be cornered. Orvelis could be broken. And she was now trapped inside a sinking ship.
Amidst that bone-crushing gravitational pressure, someone stepped through the ruined door of the room once again.
Heavy, regular, and incredibly relaxed footsteps were heard. This person was completely unaffected by the leak of Orvelis's magic pressure.
A sturdy young man in an Upper Class uniform stepped in through the splinters of wood dust. His brown hair was cut neatly, his face handsome yet stiff. His eyes radiated the absolute calmness of an executioner who cared nothing for the suffering around him. His hands, clad in leather gloves, gripped a silver spear whose blade was shrouded in softly crackling flashes of lightning.
Henry Percy. Son of Marquis Percy. The genius knight of the Upper Class First Year.
"It seems you are having a very bad night, Young Master," said Henry Percy with a calm tone of voice, almost as if he were discussing the weather.
Orvelis lifted his fury-filled face. "I have to return to my father's territory tonight, Henry. This storm is bigger than I expected. They framed me perfectly. The Midterm Expedition Exam later... I cannot attend."
Henry Percy bowed his head slightly, relaxing his grip on his spear. "Then, what about the pest from the Basic Class? The scenario to eliminate him in the Death Zone has already been prepared by the committee."
Orvelis crushed the letter from his father until it turned into crumpled dirty paper. His eyes glowed deep purple, filled with overflowing killing intent.
"In the name of Nightbane, I hand over full control of the faction during the exam to you, Henry," commanded Orvelis with a trembling voice. "Set the trap in the Death Zone. Find that Basic Class dog named Kael Draven."
Orvelis leaned his body forward, looking straight at Henry. "And bring his head to me. Without failure. I want to see his head mounted on your spear."
Henry Percy spun his silver spear with extreme elegance until the crackle of its lightning cleaved the heavy air in the room.
The young man looked at Orvelis and offered a thin smile, a smile filled with a deeply terrifying, suppressed bloodlust.
"As you wish, Young Master," said Henry with a deadly gentleness. "I promise, Kael Draven will never see the sun rise outside that forest."