[Volume 2 | Chapter 59: The Reappearing Scion (III)]

The distinctive crack of a Contender split the air like thunder, and suddenly Alaric was no longer standing in front of Acacia.

The blue-haired noble went flying sideways. His [Fiamma] dispersed into harmless sparks as a [Prana Burst] slammed into his ribs. He hit the academy's stone wall with a sickening thud before crumpling to the ground.

Acacia's eyes snapped open just in time to see a familiar figure land gracefully between him and his tormentors, raven hair streaming behind her like a banner of war.

Leila Trafalgar stood with her signature Contender still smoking in her grip, emerald eyes blazing with a fury that could have melted steel.

"Sorry I'm late, traffic was murder."

There was no time for relief or gratitude. Cassius had recovered from his shock and was already moving toward Elias with a clear intent to finish what they'd started. But Leila was faster—impossibly, inhumanly faster. She crossed the distance between them in a blur of motion that distinctly reminded Acacia viscerally of watching Pandora fight Nemesis, all the grace and violence.

"[Constricta!]"

The Interference spell wrapped around Cassius like invisible chains, binding his massive frame in place just as his boot was descending toward Elias's skull. The thug's eyes widened in confusion as he found himself unable to move; his muscles pathetically strained against bonds that existed only in his perception but felt solid as steel cables.

Leila didn't waste the opening.

Her left leg swept up in a perfect arc—a spinning hook kick that began at her hip and whipped around like a flail. It was a technique designed to generate maximum rotational force, using the entire body as a kinetic chain to deliver devastating impact through the heel.

And yet…

"[Sturm!]"

She increased its force.

Cobalt blue prana blazed across her leg as the Enhancement spell amplified muscle and bone into a thing approaching a sledgehammer. It caught Cassius in the temple with a sound reminiscent of a church bell resounding across the academy entrance. Even bound by [Constricta], the sheer force of the impact sent him toppling sideways and utterly incapacitated.

That exchange lasted about three seconds, give or take.

Drake, seeing his fellow goon fall, let out a strangled cry of rage and swung an extended baton at Leila's turned back. The metal rod whistled through the air with enough force to shatter bone, aimed directly at the base of her skull. For a moment, it seemed like the nervous boy had finally found his courage.

He'd found something, all right. Just not courage.

Leila didn't even turn around. Instead, she raised one hand and snapped her fingers as if she were flicking away a pesky insect.

"[Velox.]"

It was an Oscillation spell that manifested as an invisible wave of manipulated prana, similar to [Repulsa], but it functioned quite differently. It reached out to touch the swinging baton at the exact moment of maximum velocity. Though rather than accelerating the weapon forward as the spell typically functioned, Leila had calculated something far more clever. She'd identified the vector components of Drake's attack—force, direction, momentum... and simply reversed them.

"Wha—"

The baton, carrying all of Drake's desperate strength behind it, suddenly found itself moving in the exact opposite direction. Physics did the rest of the work. The metal rod rebounded like a slingshot and into Drake's face with his own applied force magnified by the Thaumaturgy. The impact was a sickening crunch that suggested a broken nose, at the very least. He dropped like a sack of bricks, nearly joining his compatriot in the realm of the unconscious.

Instead, he was clutching his probably broken nose while screeching like a banshee.

That was another two seconds.

Acacia gaped, awestruck.

Using the attacker's momentum against them through selective vector manipulation...

The Ptolemy heir rose to his feet, clutching his side where the Contender had struck his face, contorted in pain and fury.

"You absolute bitch!" He glared daggers at Leila. "I've been so kind as to overlook your unladylike attitude for all of these years, and you think you can get away with this?"

Leila regarded him coolly, her emerald eyes flashing with disdain.

"And those eyes... those eyes that always look at me with such contempt! We're both nobility, yet you think you're better than me, just because you're the daughter of that lucky commoner who managed to get cozy with a woman of the Sovereign Eight! You're still half a commoner, you know! Nothing more than a mongrel!"

Leila scoffed.

"Alaric Ptolemy," she started, poised and sangfroid, "I'm not better than you because the Altairs are ranked higher than the Ptolemys. I'm better than you because you are a complete, and utter, asshole who thinks he's entitled to whatever he wants just because of the family he was born into. It's that attitude that makes me better than you in every conceivable way."

Her words cut through Alaric's arrogance like a scalpel, leaving him seething and impotent.

"You dare—"

But Leila wasn't interested in listening to his self-indulgent ranting.

She pointed her Contender straight at his head.

"I do dare. Now, shut the hell up and listen. If you want to take your issues with Acacia to a proper duel, that's your prerogative, but I will not tolerate this bullying on my watch. You're a noble; act like it. And if you ever, and I mean ever, threaten my friends again, we'll have a very different conversation. Understand?"

There was no bravado in her voice, no posturing. Just cold, hard certainty. The kind of certainty that only comes from someone who knows they could back up their words with action.

If this was the Alaric from perhaps a month ago, he would have cowered and fled. Leila already had a dozen ways to end this conflict permanently running through her mind.

But this wasn't the Alaric of the past.

So he laughed. A shrill, disgusting, psychopathic laugh that made everyone present wince.

"I was hoping we could have kept things civilized until you began to defecate from your mouth. It seems like prissy little wenches these days can't stop talking out of their ass! Aaahhh... what a shame! What a shame! Such a pretty face too... what a shame that it'll be ruined once I'm through with you, you filthy mongrel!"

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He raised his hand upwards and gathered an unfathomably huge amount of prana while computing a complex Integration Sequence.

Elias's eyes, once bleary, shot open.

⸢Windwaker⸥ recognized that same pressurized heat in the air from his battle with Malleus.

"That's... [Incendio?!] LEILA! MOVE! ALARIC, YOU CAN'T—"

Leila also noticed it and proceeded to freak out.

"You've completely lost your mind!" she breathed, raising her Contender even as she calculated whether she could interrupt his casting before—

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

The command cracked across the academy grounds. Two figures in distinctive blue uniforms came sprinting around the corner of the main building.

The Wind Brigade had arrived.

One of them—a lean man with a buzzcut of brown hair and a weathered face—lunged forward and clamped his hand around Alaric's wrist. The sudden physical contact disrupted the noble's concentration, which caused the gathered prana to disperse in a shower of harmless sparks not that dissimilar from a match being struck.

"What in the Convergence's name do you think you're doing? Strategic Class Thaumaturgy in a civilian area? Are you trying to get everyone here killed?!" demanded him.

His partner, a younger woman with auburn hair tied back in a practical ponytail, surveyed the scene at his blind spots. Her gaze took in the unconscious Cassius, the bloodied Drake, the injured Elias, the stupefied Acacia, and the standoff between Leila and Alaric.

"This is Wind Brigade Officer Edna," she spoke into a communication device clipped to her shoulder. "We have a Code Seven at Windsor Preparatory Academy. Multiple casualties, possible Strategic Class violation. Requesting backup and medical support."

The Wind Brigade was basically Windsor's unique approach to law enforcement. It was a hybrid system that bridged the gap between civilian volunteers and professional police work. During daylight hours, the Brigade handled most routine patrols and minor incidents, staffed by a combination of off-duty IPA officers, university students studying law enforcement, and qualified citizens who had passed the necessary examinations. It was considered excellent training for those aspiring to join the Imperial Police Association proper, while also providing the city with affordable, community-oriented policing.

However, in times of crisis—such as an assault involving a noble—or during the night when the risk of violence was higher, the actual IPA took over.

Windsor was one of the many cities that operated with this hybrid system in mind; Magnolia of the Pendragon Province was another.

"Nobody move," Officer Bern (the man holding Alaric) ordered. "We're going to sort this out right now. Let's start with why a sixteen-year-old boy has access to a spell that could level half a city block at its lowest Order."

"This is ridiculous! Do you have any idea who I am? I'm Alaric Ptolemy, heir to—"

"I don't care if you're the Emperor's long-lost nephew. Strategic Class spells are restricted for a reason, and attempted murder is still attempted murder regardless of your family name."

Officer Edna moved closer to examine the injured parties. Her expression grew increasingly grim as she took in the extent of the damage.

"...We need to bring all of them to questioning. Unauthorized use of a Strategic Class spell, attempted homicide, aggravated assault, obstruction of justice... you'd have to be an idiot to write this off as a mere student quarrel."

Officer Bern nodded grimly, but before he could respond, Officer Edna caught his eye and gestured subtly toward Leila and Alaric. Her meaning was clear: they were dealing with nobility here. The House of Ptolemy was a candidate for Promotion to Sovereign status, and Leila was the daughter of a current Sovereign House. If they mishandled this situation... it could have consequences that reached far beyond Windsor's jurisdiction.

Officer Bern deliberated on this for a good few seconds, before he decided on his approach.

"Look, I can see this got out of hand quickly. But we're talking about serious charges here… assault, reckless endangerment, unauthorized use of Strategic Class Thaumaturgy. However, if everyone involved is willing to walk away, clean up their injuries, and promise this doesn't happen again..."

"Seriously?" Officer Edna hissed. "Bern, we can't just—"

"Arrest the province's two most promising Vanguard candidates over a schoolyard dispute? Look at them, Edna. Half of them can barely stand. They've learned their lesson."

Officer Edna looked like she wanted to argue, but the political actualities were impossible to ignore. Leila Trafalgar was one of only two students from Orion Province accepted to Vanguard University this year—the other being Elias Scryer, who was currently in a world of hurt. Creating a scandal that could jeopardize their futures would have brought unwanted attention from much higher authorities than the Wind Brigade.

"Fine," she acquiesced through gritted teeth. "But... the next time any of you decide to stage a duel in public, we will arrest everyone involved and let the law AND your respective Houses sort out the consequences. Is that understood?"

As if summoned by her words, Cassius groaned and began to stir. Blood trickled from his temple where Leila's enhanced kick had connected, and his eyes held the unfocused look of someone suffering from a significant concussion.

Drake, meanwhile, had scrambled to his feet and was backing away from the confrontation, clearly having no desire to continue the fight with law enforcement on the scene.

"What... what happened?" Cassius mumbled, swaying slightly as he tried to focus on his surroundings.

Then his gaze fell on Leila, and his expression darkened.

"You... you bitch! I'm gonna—"

"Cassius."

Alaric cut calmly through the tension. The Ptolemy heir straightened his torn uniform and fixed his disheveled hair, once again presenting the image of aristocratic composure despite the blood on his lip.

"We're leaving."

It was a simple statement, but the way Alaric said it made Cassius stop in his tracks. The larger boy's aggressive posture faltered, puzzlement flickering across his features as if he'd suddenly forgotten why he was angry.

Acacia, astute as his observations were, caught a brief flash of color in Alaric's eyes. For just an instant, they seemed to glow with a soft primrose light, barely visible and gone so quickly he might have imagined it. But the timing was too coincidental, and the effect on Cassius too immediate.

That was…

"Officer Bern," Alaric turned to the Wind Brigade officers, tone shifting from imperious to conciliatory. "I apologize for the disturbance. We got carried away and lost sight of our surroundings. It was foolish and reckless of us, and I'm grateful you intervened before anyone was seriously hurt."

"But boss!" Cassius tried to interject. "She attacked us. Shouldn't we—"

"I said we're leaving. Drake, help Cassius to the hospital. You should also get that nose fixed up. I'll meet you both at the hospital entrance. I'll just get a new shirt in the meantime. We'll discuss this later."

Drake nodded eagerly, clearly relieved to be escaping without further violence. He moved to support his larger companion, who seemed oddly sedated now despite his earlier rage.

Alaric simply turned to the trio before leaving.

"This isn't over."

With that declaration, he turned and walked away, Drake and the strangely compliant Cassius following in his wake. The officers watched them go as Officer Edna frustratedly shook her head while Officer Bern simply looked tired.

"Clean up those injuries and stay out of trouble. All of you. The last thing we need is more paperwork because some kids can't settle their differences peacefully."

The Wind Brigade officers left as well, muttering about "damn teenagers" and "unbelievable noble arrogance," but Acacia wasn't paying attention. His eyes were still fixed on where Alaric had been standing moments ago.

What... was that?

He essentially made Cassius fall silent and docile in front of the officers.

Was it Interference Thaumaturgy?

No, that couldn't be it. An Interference spell that could take control of someone's mind like that would definitely be Strategic Class, and using one right in front of the Wind Brigade again was basically asking to go to jail, and they didn't even notice the spell either. It couldn't be that.

But... then... how did he...?

"[Sanatio.]"

The soft green luminescence interrupted Acacia's spiraling thoughts as Leila knelt beside Elias. The Enhancement spell washed over the aspiring knight's reopened wounds, knitting torn tissue and staunching the flow of blood that had seeped through his shirt. There was something achingly tender in the way her fingers traced the edges of his injuries, as if she could somehow absorb his pain into herself.

"Easy," she murmured as Elias tried to sit up too quickly. "The spell can only do so much. You need to let your body adjust." Her tone was steady, but Acacia could hear the underlying worry. The same concern was reflected in her eyes as she glanced back at Acacia.

Elias managed a weak smile as the color returned to his face.

"Thanks, Leila. I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't—"

"Don't... just don't... I was too late." She refused to accept the gratitude. "I was too late. If it wasn't for..."

Acacia took a step forward, relief and gratitude warring with confusion in his chest.

"Leila, thank you. If you hadn't arrived when you did—"

"You inconsiderate trash-brained idiot!"

That familiar insult stopped him dead in his tracks.

Leila Trafalgar was livid.

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