Chapter 49

"Really, you want to duel me?" I asked, staring down the arrogant prick from the Flamesworth family. It had only been two weeks since I joined the academy, and already someone was challenging me to a duel.

People here really seemed to have a death wish. I didn't want to fight, but the way he spoke to me left me no choice. As a Wykes, my family's pride demands that I answer such disrespect.

"Of course, you Wykes prick. Hope you've got something more than those girly long locks," he sneered, his smirk widening. A vein throbbed in my forehead. Really, bro? You sure you want to die this early?

The crowd was gathering quickly, forming a ring around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Veronica among them. Seeing her there brought a smile to my face, though I tried to keep it hidden.

"Such rude behavior is exactly what I'd expect from a half-breed Wykes," Eryk continued, seeing me glance at Veronica he noted her, swinging his hand through his short black crewcut like he owned the place.

The boy in question was Eryk Flamesworth—an average-looking guy with an overinflated sense of pride. I narrowed my eyes at him, scrutinizing his aura. A light yellow core—decent for an upperclassman, I suppose. But it didn't matter; the itch in my palm had been growing for a while now.

"You really sure about this?" I asked, my voice dropping to a cold, dangerous tone.

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The air between us grew heavy with tension as the crowd's murmurs died down, everyone sensing the impending clash.

Eryk stood tall, his chest puffed out as if he believed his lineage alone could keep him safe.

But I had no intention of holding back—not this time."Let's get this over with," I said, stepping forward as the students formed a wide circle around us.

Eryk's smirk widened, clearly confident he could take me down.With a flick of his wrist, flames burst to life in his hands, spiraling up his arms like fiery serpents.

"Hope you're ready to get burned, Wykes," he taunted.I simply smiled, raising my hand to summon my own mana.

It surged through me, wild and unrestrained, transforming into a roaring inferno that danced across my skin.

I let it flow into my palm, forming a dense ball of fire that crackled with barely contained power.Eryk's expression faltered as he saw the intense flames swirling in my hand, but he quickly masked it with bravado. "Cheap tricks won't save you."

Without warning, he launched a stream of fire directly at me. The heat was intense, but I didn't flinch.

Instead, I sidestepped effortlessly, allowing the flames to scorch the ground where I had just been standing.

"You'll have to do better than that," I muttered, the fire in my palm growing hotter, brighter.

Eryk snarled, sending another wave of fire my way, but this time, I didn't bother dodging. I raised my hand and unleashed my own flames, the firestorm consuming his attack and roaring toward him with terrifying speed.

"What the—" Eryk began, but he didn't get a chance to finish.In a flash, I closed the distance between us, my hand gripping his throat and slamming him into the ground.

The impact cracked the earth beneath us, sending tremors through the crowd. Gasps erupted from the students, some of them even backing away in fear.

Eryk struggled, trying to summon more fire, but I tightened my grip, squeezing the air from his lungs. "Is this what you wanted?" I hissed, my voice low and dangerous.

His eyes widened in panic as he realized just how outmatched he was. The smug confidence he had moments ago vanished, replaced by pure terror.

I could feel him trembling under my grasp, his body betraying him."I asked you a question," I growled, releasing him just enough to let him gasp for breath.

"N-no, please… stop," he choked out, his voice barely audible.But I wasn't done. With a swift motion, I dragged him to his feet and sent a powerful punch into his gut.

He doubled over, retching, as the air was knocked out of him. The crowd around us was dead silent.

I wasn't giving him a chance to recover. Grabbing his hair, I yanked his head back to meet my gaze, his eyes watering from the pain. "Remember this moment, Flamesworth," I whispered coldly. "Next time you stand in front of me REMEMBER. This feeling."I released him, letting him crumple to the ground, gasping for air.

The crowd parted as I stepped back, allowing him to struggle to his feet. He tried to save face, wiping the blood from his mouth, but the damage was done.

The humiliation was written all over his face, and everyone around us had seen it.

As I turned away, my eyes found Veronica in the crowd. But instead of looking impressed, she looked horrified. Her face was pale, her amethyst eyes wide with shock and something else—Fear. Was she afraid of me.

Fear was etched across her face as she hurried away, her steps quick and desperate. I didn't hesitate—I followed her, running to catch up. When I finally reached her, I grabbed her hand, pulling her to a stop. She turned to face me, tears glistening in her eyes, and my heart twisted painfully in my chest.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice gentle, though I already had a sinking feeling in my gut.

"You... you looked scary," she whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke. She paused, her eyes searching mine, before continuing, "I don't like seeing you like that."

Her words hit me harder than any blow I'd ever taken. I stood there, speechless, my mind reeling. This was how I'd always fought, how I'd been taught to handle threats—with overwhelming force. But now, seeing the fear in her eyes, I realized how terrifying that must have been for her.

I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but nothing came. Instead, I acted on instinct, pulling her into a tight hug. My arms wrapped around her, holding her close, as if I could protect her from the very thing I had become. She stiffened at first but then relaxed into the embrace, her small frame trembling slightly against mine.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice thick with regret. "I didn't mean to scare you."

For a moment, we just stood there, the world around us fading into the background. I held her close, silently vowing to myself that I would change, that I would find a way to control the darkness within me.

Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look up at me, her tears mostly dried, but her eyes still full of emotion. "I don't want to stop you from fighting," she said softly, her voice wavering. "But I don't want you to lose yourself to all that anger. I don't liked seeing you Violent."

I nodded, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. "I'll try, Vero," I promised, my voice steady. "I'll try to be better."

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(A/N:- Man it was Cringe Fr but it was important I needed him to calm down and didn't found a better one other than that.)

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Later that evening

I stepped into my room, the familiar surroundings greeting me with their usual comfort. My eyes landed on the yellow dragon sitting in front of a book. "Really, Ebon, you've turned into such a nerd," I teased, heading toward the bed as I shrugged off my jacket.

But something felt off. When I glanced back at Ebon, the yellow dragon I thought I saw was just an illusion. Instead, there was a crumbling, fragile shell where he had been. My heart skipped a beat, worry flooding my veins. I reached out to touch it, and it disintegrated under my fingers.

"Ebon!" I screamed internally, panic taking hold as I scanned the room, searching desperately for any sign of him. Finally, in the shadows, I spotted something—a viscous, black-winged form with razor-sharp scales.

"What's up, Father?" Ebon's voice echoed in my mind as the black creature emerged from the darkness. He had transformed into a glossy black wyvern, larger and more menacing than before, with scales sharper and more defined.

"You dyed your scales?" I asked, a smile of relief spreading across my face.

Ebon grinned back, his sharp, white teeth gleaming. He spread his wings, now sleek and polished, before flapping them to fly up and land on the bed, discarding the remnants of his former shell with a casual flick of his limb.

"A beggar will still return to begging even after becoming rich," I muttered with a smirk.

"Yes, surely, Father. Habits don't die easily," he replied, settling back into his usual spot.

I stood up from the bed, taking a moment to look at myself in the mirror. "Ebon, do I look scary?" I asked, needing his honest opinion.

He glanced up at me, then back at his book before answering in my mind. "Yes, Father, you do look pretty scary to most people. Your long, messy blonde hair makes you seem more like a caveman."

"Really?" I asked, seeking confirmation.

"Yep. That's about 80% true, with some considering you 'cute,' so I can't give you a 100% response," he added, his tone tinged with amusement.

I ran a hand through my tangled hair, realizing he had a point. Maybe a haircut was in order. It wasn't too late, and I figured I could make a quick trip to the city and be back before it got too late.

"Alright, I'm heading out," I announced, making up my mind.

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"Just do whatever you want," I muttered to the barber—a girlish man, or maybe just a flamboyant one, who knows. I wasn't in the habit of visiting him often, but back when I spent more time in the city, after my adventures, I used to drop by.

"Oh, yes! My favorite piggy bank," he exclaimed with a playful grin as I sat down in the chair. "What can I do for you today, dear?"

I wasn't sure what to expect. I usually kept my hair around shoulder length, but today, I was feeling indifferent. "Do whatever you want."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Still, any idea what you wanna get?"

"Well, keep it above my ears," I responded, meeting his gaze directly. "I trust you."

His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he smiled, fastening a cloth around my neck with a practiced hand. "How's school going?"

"Nothing unusual," I replied as he bent down to retrieve his scissors from the drawer.

"Heard the Student Council President is the elven princess?" he asked, casually trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, Tessia," I replied nonchalantly.

He raised his eyebrows, a teasing tone creeping into his voice. "How can you casually use her name like that?"

"Well, I should probably call her 'boss,' considering I work for her," I said with a shrug.

"Wow, you in the Student Council," he said, genuinely surprised. He pressed a button, and the chair rotated, positioning me with my back to the mirror. I frowned slightly. "Why did you move the seat?"

"Don't you want your new look to be a surprise? Hehe," he chuckled, his laughter light and airy.

I rolled my eyes but decided to let it go. "Well, whatever. If it turns out awful, I can always shave my head."

He laughed again, his scissors already snipping away. "Oh, trust me, dear, you'll look fabulous."

I leaned back in the chair as the barber started working on my hair, the sound of scissors snipping filling the small room. Figuring I had some time to kill, I pulled out a book I'd been meaning to read. It was something I picked up a while ago—back when I first started adventuring and came across those mercenaries. The memory stirred a faint ache in my head, but I quickly pushed it aside.

"You okay?" the barber asked, noticing my brief lapse in focus.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, shaking off the momentary discomfort as it faded just as quickly as it came.

I muttered the title under my breath, "The Forest." It was an old, worn book, its pages slightly yellowed with time.

With a deep breath, I opened the book and let myself sink into, feeling the minutes slip away as the words drew me in.

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"Really, I can't believe I kept a straight face reading all these types of torture," I muttered to myself, closing the book with a heavy thud. This wasn't just any book—it was practically a continental treasure for torturers, detailing an almost unbelievable array of methods to extract information. The sheer number of ways to kill—ninety-nine to be exact—was enough to make even the most hardened warrior think twice.

But what amazed me more was that I had actually finished it. I shouldn't have read it. Haa… I let out a sigh, the weight of what I'd absorbed settling uncomfortably in my mind.

Just then, the scissors stopped, and the barber spoke up, breaking me from my thoughts. "Done."

He turned the chair around, positioning me in front of the mirror to see his work.

"Who the hell is this pretty boy... or girl," I muttered, staring at my reflection. The barber pulled the cloth off, and the remnants of my long hair fell to the floor in a scattered mess. He had given me a fresh look that I had never considered before.

My sides were neatly faded, blending smoothly into the longer hair on top, which was parted elegantly. The larger section of hair swept over one side, while the smaller portion complemented it on the other, both blending seamlessly at the point of the split. The style gave off a sophisticated vibe—something I'd never associate with myself—but I had to admit, it looked good. My long hair had been hiding my features all this time; now they were on full display, sharp and defined.

I ran my hand through my smooth, styled hair, feeling the soft strands glide between my fingers. "You look so good if I was a girl, I'd..." The barber started, but I cut him off.

"Stop, don't say a word," I commanded, still admiring the reflection a bit longer before asking, "How much?"

"Fifteen cop..." Before he could respond, I placed three gold coins on the table. "Keep it," I said, lifting myself from the seat after what felt like an hour.

"That's why I call you my piggy bank—you give me my five-year salary at once, Maybe I should start calling you Daddy....." he joked, smiling as he pocketed the coins.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up now." I scoffed, brushing any stray hairs off my white shirt and black trousers, the remnants of what once was my mane.

"Okay," I said, giving him a nod before leaving the shop, feeling like a new person—or at least, someone different from the Lucas who had walked in an hour ago.

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I'm seriously regretting getting a haircut. Every single person in the area was staring at me like I was some kind of spectacle. I could practically feel the weight of their gazes—some admiring, others curious, and a few... well, let's just say they were far from subtle. Girls were blushing hard as I passed by, and to my horror, I even caught a few aunties giving me rather... *vigorous* looks. What the hell?

I tried to shrug off the attention, focusing on my mission to get a new storage ring. Was there a specific reason? Not really—just wanted to experiment with the idea of storing a ring full of stuff inside another ring. Why? Because I'm goddamn curious, okay? And, let's be honest, a little ticked off from all the unwanted attention.

After what felt like an eternity of enduring those annoying gazes, I finally reached the shop some kind old woman had directed me to. I had to admit, I seriously needed to brush up on my street knowledge around here. The shop looked more like a jewelry store than a place to buy storage rings, but then again, rings are jewelry, right? Dumbass.

I stepped inside and scanned the place, quickly spotting the shopkeeper—a man in his thirties, maybe a bit older. "I want to buy a storage ring," I said, keeping it short and sweet.

"A mana ring, right?" he asked, and I nodded as he placed a box in front of me, opening it to reveal a selection of rings.

Just before I committed to the purchase, I decided to ask something that had been nagging at me. "So, can rings be stored in rings?"

The question felt stupid the moment it left my mouth, but I wanted to know anyway. The shopkeeper answered with a simple, "No."

Great. So why the hell was I even buying this ring? Because at this point, I couldn't back out without looking like a complete idiot. What would the shopkeeper think if I just walked out without buying anything? No, I couldn't embarrass myself like that.

So, I bought one anyway.

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