"There are testimonies from several witnesses… claiming that you were the one responsible for the incident that occurred in the city forest the other day. That you injured Rudi and Jogo," the principal stated firmly, his tone carrying both authority and accusation.

"Based on these witness statements," he continued, deliberately twisting the facts,

"You were the one who attacked them. The motive is clear—you disliked Rudi because he was too popular, and you despised Jogo for getting close to the girl you liked, Rina."

Al blinked in disbelief, his lips parting slightly.

"Huh?" was the only sound that escaped his mouth, a quiet syllable of confusion and incredulity at such a fabricated narrative.

Even the so-called testimonies written on the documents were laughable. Several of them apparently came from Rudi's personal bodyguards, who shamelessly claimed to have been injured by Al as well.

The disbelief twisting in Al's mind was only rivaled by the burning fury emanating from Kugo and Darius.

Kugo had already risen from his chair, his broad shoulders tense and his posture rigid, while Darius's eyes glowed red with rage as his gaze locked murderously onto Al.

Al could feel the oppressive intent pouring out of them, an almost tangible killing will filling the room. Slowly, he turned to face them.

His eyes sharpened, his lips curving ever so slightly into a faint smirk.

The fury radiating from Kugo and Darius was undeniable, their emotions exploding like magma.

A wild surge of energy began forming from Kugo's body—energy that, curiously enough, only Al could actually see within that room.

This is going to be troublesome, Al muttered quietly to himself, his grin widening slightly in anticipation, his pulse tinged with adrenaline.

Well… technically, yes, I did injure those two idiots. Or rather, I merely gave them the finishing touch after they got themselves beaten up at the café by someone else. His mind analyzed the situation calmly, internally.

But still… why come up with such an absurd alibi? His thoughts sharpened.

Could it be that Darius isn't confident enough to report this as a magical assault? If he actually knew I was a DIAR, he could've used that to make the association turn against me.

He exhaled slowly, almost amused.

Fortunately, neither he nor Daraka knows much—at least, not enough to be troublesome. Haah… still, this whole thing is bothersome. If my true identity were ever exposed, it would turn into a serious problem. I'll have to be more careful next time… otherwise, every single integration mission we've carried out so far would become utterly meaningless.

He placed the pile of documents back onto the small table beside him, his movement calm, deliberate.

"This is slander. Pure fabrication. I won't accept it," he said flatly, tone devoid of emotion.

"Hmph… Al, even if you refuse to accept it, the reality is right in front of you. I know this is painful, but this is the only option we can offer you," the principal replied with mock sympathy.

Al shook his head.

"Sir, please don't involve yourself in this charade. This is clearly falsified. Even a kindergarten student could tell these testimonies are fake," he said coolly.

The principal's expression twitched with irritation—and so did Lefon's, for this entire forged setup was, in fact, his idea.

Lefon rose from his seat abruptly.

"You brat! Don't act so clever. You know damn well you hurt them! You should be grateful their fathers are still giving you a chance to transfer schools. If it had been Idham you'd injured instead, you might not even be alive right now!" he barked, voice trembling in anger.

Al sighed faintly, unfazed.

"Haah... I suppose these two are far more barbaric than you, Mr. Lefon. So please, don't use yourself as the standard. If people as savage as them choose to stay silent, then it probably means there's something the three of you are scheming behind this so-called school transfer." Al replied, voice calm yet cutting.

Lefon froze for a moment, startled by how quickly the boy dissected the situation.

"You—!" he stammered, completely lost for words.

Even the principal and the two furious fathers hesitated slightly, their instincts whispering that Al's deduction might actually be the truth.

Kugo took over the situation, unable to contain his anger any longer.

"You hurt my son, you bastard! And now you're still pretending to defend yourself?!" he roared.

"Defend myself? You people aren't even a threat worth defending from," Al shot back with a sharp, sarcastic tone.

"You—!" Kugo barked again, almost lunging forward—but somehow, he managed to restrain himself at the last second.

Al simply shook his head slowly.

"Anyway, let's end this ridiculous farce already. I don't know what you're plotting, but stop before things turn worse for you," he said, his tone almost like a bored teacher giving advice.

"You should be grateful your sons are still alive, even though they're a bit…" He paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a heartbeat.

"…mentally unstable," he finished coldly.

That made Darius snap his head up in shock.

Having been silent until then, still unsure whether to believe Daraka's claims, he finally erupted.

"You know about that?! So it really was you who did it?!" he shouted, voice breaking.

Kugo, who was already grieving the state of his son, lost the last of his composure.

"So it's true, then! It really was you!!!"

He was about to lunge forward when the principal and Lefon, realizing what was about to happen, immediately stepped in to restrain them.

They struggled—especially with Kugo's brute strength—but somehow managed to hold him back.

"Mr. Kugo, Mr. Norvalien! We cannot start a brawl here," the principal warned sharply.

"Don't take the bait, Kugo! If you attack him now, it'll just complicate things. Our entire plan could fall apart. Even if you killed him, the aftermath would be a disaster you can't afford to bear," Lefon whispered in a harsh tone.

"We're elites, not savages," he added, his words cold and deliberate.

Kugo and Darius both growled in frustration but eventually turned away, their faces twisted with barely restrained rage.

"Arghh… damn it. You're lucky they stopped me," Kugo muttered.

"Hmph," Darius grunted, arms crossed tightly.

The principal exhaled, his gaze drifting back toward Al.

This kid is an absolute nuisance. But I can't let my career get ruined because of two fathers losing control over an orphan. I need to handle this in a more civilized way, he thought grimly.

"Al," he said aloud, composing himself. "Fortunately, you've at least admitted your wrongdoing. Now, I'll give you a choice."

Al glanced at him lazily, eyes half-lidded.

"Sir, why are you stopping them? Wouldn't it be faster to just settle this with a fight?" he asked, tone dripping with dry humor.

The principal shook his head.

"Of course not. That was just a moment of impulse. Anyone would be angry if their child was hurt," he said smoothly.

"But we, the elite class, do not resort to barbaric acts. We follow the laws and rules of civilized society," he continued, his voice adopting the rhythm of a man who enjoyed hearing himself speak.

Al tilted his head slightly, preparing to respond—but the principal, a natural politician who loved his own speeches, clearly wasn't done yet.

"And since we are upstanding members of this lawful society," he went on, "I will give you two choices. The first—transfer to that school. I will personally assist in the process. And the second…"

He paused dramatically, letting the silence stretch for emphasis.

"We settle this legally. You stay enrolled here, but we open the case. The media will hear about it. The police might get involved. We'll file formal charges based on witness statements—and you'll be facing legal consequences. So, what will it be?"

The room fell into complete silence.

Everyone waited for Al's response.

Meanwhile, Al took a moment to think.

They're really persistent. Even after all this? What exactly are they trying to gain by forcing me to transfer there? Did Daraka prepare something—some kind of trap—waiting for me? Something that could guarantee his victory?

His mind calmly dissected the possibilities.

Hmm... but seriously, who'd even want to go there? I'm way too lazy for that, and I've got more than enough to deal with already. I'd better wrap this up soon—Sebastian and Michaelis must be waiting for me.

Al lowered his head slightly… then slowly lifted it again.

"Principal, may I ask you something?" His tone was composed, steady.

The Principal frowned. "Didn't you just need to decide your own fate? What else is there to ask?"

"Relax, Principal. My fate's already sealed," Al replied, still calm. "I just want to ask—how long does it usually take to deal with the police?"

"Huh?" The Headmaster's brows knitted tighter. Even Lefon squinted suspiciously.

"What do you mean? Don't tell me you're planning to—?"

"Yup." Al cut him off before he could finish. "Just report it to the police. I don't have time to play your games."

"Huh?! Are you insane?!" The Principal was stunned speechless.

"Rather than dragging this pointless drama any longer," Al continued, his voice flat,

"I've got no intention of playing along with whatever act you're putting up. Just report me to the police. Simple. Let's settle this through civil procedure and the law—exactly like you said earlier."

The Princiapl rubbed his temples, visibly exasperated.

"Al, do you even understand what you're saying? Dealing with the police isn't a small matter. Especially for a minor like you, with a case this serious."

Al's gaze drifted across the room, meeting each of their faces in turn.

Jogo's father was holding his breath.

Rudi's father exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly irritated.

The Principal wiped sweat from his temple.

And Idham's father… simply stared, his expression unreadable.

Then, Al responded coldly,

"I understand, Sir. So there's no need to waste any more time. I'll step outside for now. I'm not leaving the school—I'll just find somewhere to take a nap while waiting for the police call."

He turned his back on them and started walking toward the door.

The atmosphere froze.

No one spoke.

The scene unfolding before them was too absurd to comprehend. Al had just dismissed them as if they were nothing more than a passing breeze.

At the same time, Jogo's father gritted his teeth. He, too, was fed up with the farce they had all created.

"Argh… I've had enough of this ridiculous drama," he muttered.

The three others turned toward him—

And they saw Kugo's body tense up, his frame trembling as thick, raw Vita Energy surged violently through his muscles.

"Kugo, don't—!" Lefon tried to stop him.

But Kugo brushed his hand away.

"Whatever the consequence, I'll bear it myself!" he declared coldly.

And in the next instant—he lunged forward.

The air split apart as his body blurred, hurling himself straight toward Al's unguarded back.

"Don't think you'll walk away from this alive! Die, you brat!" he roared.

But then—

BRUKK!!

A hand appeared out of nowhere, catching the blow with a single palm.

The shockwave scattered energy through the air, shaking the entire room.

Kugo's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What—?!"

He was thrown slightly backward, gasping for breath.

Al—the supposed target—only let out a faint yawn.

"I guess you couldn't stand the drama either," he murmured under his breath.

Standing between Al and Kugo was a man with neatly combed white hair, wearing a teacher's suit, the light glinting off the polished nameplate on his chest.

Sebastian.

"Mr. Sebastian?!" The Principal exclaimed, startled.

Sebastian bowed slightly in courtesy.

"My apologies for interrupting your meeting, Principal."

Then he turned his gaze to Al.

Their eyes met briefly—just a fraction of a second—but it was enough to convey a silent understanding.

"It seems there's some troublesome business that needs to be taken care of here," he said coldly.

His sharp eyes locked onto Kugo.

Kugo was still in shock at what had just happened, yet his anger hadn't subsided. His energy flared again, heat distorting the air around him.

The large-bodied man burning with fury…

and the slender man with an icy composure—

—were about to clash.

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