NOVEL WEB Chapter 7: Spell Unleashed
The observation deck's sea of clouds was a mesmerizing sprawl, their golden edges glinting in the morning light, but Edwyn's sharp blue eyes were elsewhere. The nobles' gossip had been a goldmine, Mana Stones, Medici wealth, the exam's predator-prey dynamics, but a scream had sliced through the chatter, familiar and chilling.
Elia. His grin vanished, replaced by a cold, burning fury as he shoved through the crowd, his boots pounding the deck's polished wood. You idiots picked the wrong day to mess with my roommate.
The airship's corridor was a labyrinth of glowing runes, their faint hum blending with the organic-metal walls' subtle pulse, like a heartbeat beneath the surface. Edwyn rounded the corner to Room 225 and froze, his blood turning to ice. A scar-faced brute was slamming his shoulder into their door, the wood splintering under his bulk. His arms were like knotted oak, his face twisted with a predatory leer that made Edwyn's skin crawl. Around him, a half-dozen lackeys jeered, their patched clothes and scarred knuckles marking them as tough by peasant standards, their eyes glinting with cruel anticipation.
The leader was Ramsay, son of a gang boss from the Wisteria Region in the Goldengrove Kingdom. Born with a body forged for battle, he'd been a Knight's squire by 12, his strength and skill outpacing grown men. By 15, he was on the cusp of full Knight status, a prodigy destined for glory. In a few years, he'd have earned a title, with noble families clamoring to wed their daughters to his bloodline. The king himself would've toasted his name. But fate had other plans. The Mages chose him, their will absolute, yanking him from a warrior's path to the arcane unknown.
Ramsay's father mourned his lost future, but Ramsay? He felt no regret. At the selection ceremony, he'd watched the king and his nobles bow to the Mages, their power undeniable. A fire ignited in his chest, ambition, raw and ravenous. He'd master the arcane, rise above knights and kings, and bend the world to his will. On the airship, he learned the Mages didn't care about his actions, only that he survived to the exam. So he gathered a pack of thugs, the Black Bear Gang, and unleashed his reign of terror, taking what he wanted, bedding whom he pleased, his Knight's training making him untouchable. Nobles found him repulsive, but none intervened. He avoided their kind, and no noble would risk a Knight's squire's blade over a peasant.
BAM! BAM!
Ramsay's shoulder crashed into the door, his wicked grin widening as the wood groaned. He hadn't seen the girl inside, but her trembling voice, high, panicked, untouched, set his blood ablaze. Fresh meat, he thought, licking his lips. But mid-slam, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A figure, slight, not tall, with fiery red hair framing a pale, handsome face. Ramsay's grin twisted, his eyes narrowing with a new, sleazier hunger.
Edwyn's steps slowed, his heart pounding as he took in the scene. The door's latch was moments from giving way, Elia's muffled curses echoing from inside as she braced the desk against it. Ramsay's gaze locked onto him, and Edwyn's stomach churned, a chill creeping up his spine. This guy's bad news.
"Hey, cute guy," Ramsay drawled, his voice dripping with slime as he licked his lips. "You one of the last to board?" He stepped away from the door, gesturing for his thugs to take over. "Keep at it, boys. I've got a new toy to play with."
Edwyn glanced behind him, empty corridor. Yeah, this creep was talking to him. His expression darkened, fury and revulsion boiling in his chest like a storm. Not only a pervert, but he swings both ways? And I'm his type? Hell no. His grin vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory smirk, his blue eyes glinting like sharpened steel. "Buddy, you just made the worst mistake of your life."
"Die," Edwyn growled, raising his hand. A pulse of blue light flared at his fingertip, crackling with raw mana. Zero-Circle Spell: Magic Missile. The bolt shot forward like a meteor, slamming into Ramsay's chest with a crack that echoed down the corridor. The force hit like a warhammer, hurling the brute backward, his body twisting in agony as he crashed into the wall.
"MAGE! HE'S A MAGE!" one of the lackeys screamed, stumbling back in panic. The others froze, their jeers dying as Edwyn's gaze swept over them, cold as a winter blade.
"You too," he said, his voice ice, his hand flicking with practiced precision. Missile after missile erupted, each bolt striking true, legs, arms, shoulders, sending the thugs sprawling with pained groans. The corridor lit up with flashes of blue, the air humming with mana as Edwyn moved like a predator, his Wind Crow Sword Style guiding his strikes even without a blade. He hadn't lost himself to rage; his aim was deliberate, avoiding fatal hits. No bodies, no trouble.
Inside, Elia's heart sank as the latch snapped with a sickening crack. She braced against the desk, her arms trembling, her teeth clenched as she cursed herself. Why'd I open the door? Stupid, stupid! Cabin fever had broken her, the weeks of confinement driving her to peek outside for a breath of freedom. She'd thought it was safe, just a glance. But the Black Bear Gang had spotted her, her pale gold hair and freckled face like blood in the water.
But no one barged in. Instead, shouts and groans erupted outside, followed by a heavy thud. Elia peeked through a crack in the door, her eyes widening in disbelief. The Black Bear Gang was sprawled across the corridor, their bodies crumpled like discarded rags. Standing over them, one foot planted on Ramsay's face, was Edwyn, his lean frame radiating a quiet, burning fury, his blue eyes blazing as he ground his boot into the brute's cheek.
"You sick bastard!" Edwyn snarled, punctuating each word with a stomp, his movements fluid and vicious, the Wind Crow Sword Style's grace evident in every strike. "You tried to bust into my room, terrorize my roommate, and you dared to come after me? You freakin' pervert, take this!" He delivered another kick, Ramsay's groan muffled as his scar twisted in pain.
But Ramsay wasn't done. His eyes flickered, feigning unconsciousness as he waited for an opening. The moment Edwyn turned to check on Elia, he scrambled to his feet, bolting down the corridor with surprising speed for his bulk. "MAGE! HELP! HE'S GONNA-"
THWACK! Edwyn's hand snapped up, another Magic Missile streaking through the air. It slammed between Ramsay's legs with a sickening crunch, like an eggshell shattering. Ramsay's eyes rolled back, his scream cut short as he collapsed, out cold from the pain.
Edwyn wasn't finished. The nausea, the crawling, insect-like revulsion from Ramsay's leer, still churned in his gut. He stalked forward, his boots echoing in the corridor, and stomped Ramsay's body twice more for good measure. "That's for being a creep, you filthy bastard," he spat, wiping his shoe on Ramsay's tunic like it was a rag.
"Edwyn!" Elia's voice cut through his fury, and he turned to see her in the doorway, her face a mix of shock and relief, her pale gold hair catching the corridor's faint light.
"Hey, Goldilocks," he said, his grin returning, sharp and nonchalant as he waved. "You okay? Told you to keep the door locked. What's with the jailbreak?"
Elia's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her voice trembling with awe. "You… you took them all out? Ramsay's a Knight's squire! How…?"
Edwyn shrugged, leaning against the broken doorframe with a cocky smirk. "What, you thought I was just a pretty face? I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." He kicked Ramsay's unconscious form one last time, his grin widening. "This clown didn't know who he was messing with."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and a crowd of curious nobles appeared, their fine tunics and polished boots a stark contrast to the carnage. Their murmurs filled the air, a mix of awe and disbelief.
"By the Gods… that peasant beat Ramsay?"
"Ramsay's a Knight's squire! He's no pushover."
"Does he have an Arcane Artifact? But without Mana Stones, those are useless."
"Wait, has he already built his Mana Flow? A peasant that fast?"
Edwyn's ears perked at the mention of Arcane Artifacts and Mana Stones, his mind filing it away. Magic gear powered by stones, huh? That's exam-level intel. He kept his expression neutral, his grin a mask of indifference as the nobles gawked.
A new figure appeared, striding through the crowd with an air of quiet authority. Arch-Mage Lysara, a woman in her thirties, average in height but anything but ordinary. Her black robe shimmered with faint runes, and her hands, visible as she adjusted her sleeves, bore mouths full of sharp, needle-like teeth, their lips curling in eerie silence. Her brown eyes scanned the scene, taking in the sprawled thugs and the splintered door with a faint, amused smile.
"I'm Lysara," she said, her voice calm but carrying a weight that silenced the nobles. "Who did this?"
Elia stepped forward, her voice trembling but defiant. "My Lady, they tried to break into our room, so-"
Edwyn cut her off with a raised hand, his grin sharp and unbothered. "No clue, lady. I rolled up, and these clowns were already napping. Guess they tripped and fell… real hard."
Lysara's eyes locked onto his, her gaze piercing, like she could see straight to his soul. The corridor's air grew heavy, the runes on the walls flickering as if sensing her power. Then, her lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through. "Well, well," she said, her tone almost playful. "Looks like a helpful ghost swung by and gave these punks what they deserved. Bit rough, but if we catch that ghost, we'll just give 'em a slap on the wrist."
She patted Edwyn's shoulder, her toothy palm grazing his tunic, and with a flick of her wrist, levitation magic enveloped the injured thugs, lifting them like ragdolls. They floated down the corridor, Lysara trailing behind, her robe billowing like liquid shadow.
Elia stood frozen, her heart pounding as she stared at Edwyn. "Edwyn… how could you…" she whispered, her voice a mix of shock and awe. "Lying to a Mage? That's insane."
Edwyn pulled her back into the room, kicking the broken door shut and wedging the desk against it. He plopped onto his bunk, his grin sly and knowing, his blue eyes glinting with insight.
"Elia, that's how Mages play the game. For us, their rules are carved in stone. For them? They're napkin doodles, probably scribbled over lunch."
Elia's brows furrowed, her mind racing. "But… she asked who did it. She knew it was you."
"Exactly," Edwyn said, leaning back with a self-mocking smirk. "I broke the rules, but Lysara liked the show. She didn't wanna punish me, so she tossed out that ghost crap as an excuse for the other Mages. No matter how ridiculous it sounds, a maimed Apprentice is only worth a half-assed explanation to them."
Elia muttered, her voice soft but stunned, "Who did this…? She knew the answer…"
Edwyn's grin widened, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "That's the deal with Mages. They bend the world to their whims, and we're just pieces on their board. But I'm not playing by their script, I'm writing my own." He cracked his knuckles, the Infinite Forge pulsing in his soul, a quiet promise of power. "Ramsay was just a warm-up. The trial's coming, and I'm ready."