"Here, take this, you worthless piece of shit, commoner!"
The punch came at Lucifer with a ferocity that seemed to slice through the air, but to him, time slowed. It wasn't the red-haired brat who threw the punch; it was one of his lackeys, a mere shadow of his master's arrogance.
As the fist approached close to Lucifer, his instincts kicked in. He sidestepped effortlessly, the blow whistling past him, and with a swift, fluid motion, he retaliated with a powerful slap. His palm connected with the lackey's face, sending him sprawling five feet back, crashing to the ground like a rag doll, and lying down flatly.
Lucifer wasn't a pushover; he refused to be a punching bag for anyone, especially not for the likes of them.
"When someone is talking, don't interrupt, you idiot. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"Ahem.. anyway, next time keep a note out of this," Lucifer said, his tone dripping with disdain as he looked down at the fallen figure.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, eyes wide with disbelief. The boy who had just been sent flying was a High-Level Dawnbringer, yet Lucifer had dispatched him with a single, effortless strike—which meant Lucifer was not some weakling. Whispers and murmurs filled the air and also hatred points started to accumulate.
The red-haired young man glared at him, noticing that, this commoner was not giving any shit to him. He clenched his fists, eyes blazing with indignation. However, he did not immediately attack again, as if he was trying to see what Lucifer would do next.
'Jump, jump… this will be your last jump then I will torture you like hell, just wait' the red-haired boy thought, evilly.
Lucifer seeing killing intent emitting through the boy, grinned as if he was mocking him, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth.
The young man, taken aback by Lucifer's calm yet domineering presence, then began to sneer.
"You think this is funny?" he spat, venom lacing his words.
"Watch everyone, how he is acting, he thinks we within this town are not worth it in his eyes….. if I am the son of Blazewind was not getting respect then will you all?"
The boy bellowed with a concerned tone mixing with anger and people started to agree with his speech, which made the boy quite satisfied.
"Now, do you know where you're standing right now?"
"It's LUMIERA TOWN! …. WE ARE NOT TO BE LOOKED DOWN UPON, YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
The red-haired boy's voice dripped with contempt, his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash his fury. The onlookers held their breath, they did not know what to do either. Yet they just look at the show, at least. And they also didn't know when the small dispute turned into, the whole town's dispute? Well if they had to side with side then they would obviously choose with the red-haired boy.
"Brother MuLa, looks like we need to teach him a lesson," chimed in another person, a sly grin spreading across his face. He exuded the air of a rich kid, but even he paled in comparison to MuLa's reputation.
"Hmm? TuRi?" MuLa shot a sidelong glance at the newcomer, then seeing who it was, he nodded with a flicker of agreement in his eyes.
"Teach me a lesson? Do you have the ability" Lucifer's voice cut through the tension like a knife. He regarded TuRi with a dismissive glance, fully aware of his power level. Ego whispered to him that TuRi was merely a High-Level Dawnbringer, a mere stepping stone in the grand scheme of things.
'Shall I kill this nuisance first?' Lucifer thought.
"As for looking down on everyone, when did I say that? Even if I did what the fuck gonna do? Cry?" Lucifer continued calmly, his chilling stare locking onto the young man's furious eyes. "I don't own anyone with anything but…" He stepped closer, invading the young man's personal space with an unsettling confidence. "I think you are an interesting thing… heh."
'Thing?'
A murmur swept through the crowd as they watched the confrontation unfold, eyes wide with a mix of intrigue and concern.
"Is this white-haired boy out of his mind? Doesn't he know MuLa's background and reputation?" one onlooker whispered, glancing nervously between Lucifer and the young man. "Where is he even from? Whatever, his day is about to get a lot worse. I hope he survives this clash."
Another bystander interjected, urgency in their tone, "Whatever happens, we need to get out of here before we all get dragged into this mess," and without waiting for a response, he turned and left the scene.
The crowd split, some staying rooted in place while others began to retreat. But with every passing second, Lucifer's reputation surged like a volcano poised to erupt, his Hatred Points escalating rapidly—he was already nearing a hundred.
[Hatred Points: 101.3]
"Are you lost, boy? You should apologize to Brother MuLa. He just might spare you," the TuRi sneered, looking down at Lucifer with condescension.
Did Lucifer care? Not at all. This was the perfect opportunity to amass hatred points—how could he miss it? If he ended up badly wounded, he could always heal using those very points, at least until his breath lasted long.
As for being killed? Lucifer wore a smirk, confident in his High-Level Stealth ability, ready to disappear if things turned south. He sensed no aura from anyone above him by two levels. In this cutthroat world, he was no stranger to dancing with danger.
"Apologize my ass! You Ass licker shit and you red-light shithead, you apologize to your mother for giving you birth, and maybe I'll let you keep your teeth," Lucifer taunted, relishing the ripple of tension that surged through the gathered onlookers. His words were like matches striking dry tinder, ready to ignite the confrontation into something explosive.
Hearing this everyone's jaw almost dropped to the ground, thinking what a tough tongue this white hair had.
'Is not he afraid of death?'
"Move, bitch, if you don't want to die!" Lucifer shouted again, his voice echoing in the charged atmosphere.
"What? What did you say?" MuLa's veins were bulging, his fury palpable as he glared at the audacious white-haired boy. The crowd was bewildered, whispers circulating about Lucifer's reckless confidence. They thought, Look at you; you're no more than 17 or 18 years old. Aren't you afraid of death?
Before MuLa could respond, Lucifer surged forward, pushing him backward and catching him off balance. The sudden shift in momentum sent MuLa stumbling, his pride bruised.
"Now, will you step aside, or shall we dance?" Lucifer asked, the thrill of confrontation coursing through him like a rush of adrenaline. He had little respect for anyone who offended him, but still, there was an undeniable pleasure in asserting dominance over the foolishly bold.
Just as MuLa regained his footing, his fire affinity flared on the surface, resonating with his core. He unleashed a torrent of flames, casting a fire spell toward Lucifer. The air crackled with heat as the fireball hurtled forward toward Lucifer.
Lucifer's instincts kicked in. With remarkable agility, he dodged the attack, feeling the heat singe the air around him. In an instant moment, he charged at the red-headed boy, a wild grin on his face, ready to engage.
"Where do you think you are going?"
But before he could reach MuLa, one of the young man's companions stepped in, blocking Lucifer's path. The TuRi watched the spectacle unfold, a smirk playing on his lips, clearly amused and unwilling to intervene.
'Here comes the lackey of some renowned-ass young master, seeking their own doom'