"I would like to speak with them privately." Cassie shot the girls and their mother a look. The mother took her girls away while Cassie returned her attention to the teens.
"Their deaths are going to be on your record. I would advise you do not kill but knock out your attackers, and we'll have them persecuted for their actions," she cautioned with a stern look.
Godfrey nodded, and after some talk, left with Isaac. He didn't bother arguing, what exactly could be the punishment for such people backed by large guilds?
The moment they were in jail, everyone would know who put them there, further dragging them into trouble.
Well, everyone had their opinions.
***
The next day, as he walked into his classroom, a sudden silence swept through the room. Orwen, who was right by the door laughing, froze. Siegfried and Maldred turned away, and Dale clicked his tongue, pretending to focus on his phone.
Godfrey looked around before walking toward his desk. He had just realized something, they could fight and still flow amongst themselves, but he was the oddball, one who came from the bottom and rose to the top.
This odd occurrence indirectly made him an outcast. No one knew what to expect from him, probably because he didn't flaunt his dominance by needlessly gathering lackeys to boss people around.
He wasn't like them, and therefore, he was alone.
The moment he sat, the conversations returned but quieter. It was like they expected a confrontation, but none of the bullies dared look Godfrey in the eye, not after Isolde's brutal bashing and his domineering victory at the cafeteria.
As Godfrey was about to open a book, his eyes fastened on a paper placed neatly on his desk. It was rather rare for something to be dropped there, and everyone made sure they steered clear of it.
Siegfried would have read it, but after seeing his life flash before his eyes once, he tucked tail, like a true wolf.
Upon opening it, the words "I'm sorry" were boldly written, and below it was the name Lucy. Godfrey tilted his head toward her. When she noticed his glance, she quickly hid her face.
Raising an eyebrow, Godfrey simply opened his book.
They would be having tests soon, another avenue to increase their points, and everyone would be working on showcasing an Advanced Skill.
Advanced Skills were Adaptive Skills far rarer than the usual. An example was Mountain's Achilles Shield. Some Advanced Skills were even more unique and unpredictable than that, and some basic Adaptive Skills like Ballista's Trail Blazer were variants that could seemingly grow stronger with mana.
It wasn't exactly considered an Advanced Skill, but it was close enough.
The only two Godfrey watched out for were Snow and Cecil, whom he was certain had both learned Advanced Skills. They were his competitors.
He also guessed Cecil must either match or even be stronger than Dale now that she had endured the harsh terrain of the Undead Desert.
Her summon's skills must have grown deadlier. Her Advanced Skill had to be something that either reinforced defense or dealt devastating long-range damage.
And Snow's, without question, had to focus on sheer firepower. The versatility of his summon made him a hassle; Godfrey wasn't even a hundred percent certain he would come out victorious against Snow. Snow's illusion and petrification could easily bring down a 7.0 summon!
His analytical thoughts and considerations for the upcoming test shattered when his ears picked up the nearby conversation.
"Is it just me, or does Godfrey look really handsome today? He must be working out," one of the girls whispered, sneaking a peek at him.
Godfrey could almost curse his ears.
"You laughed when he almost fell off the balcony back then," another mocked.
"Such looks are a waste if he isn't strong enough to put them to good use. At least now, I have my eyes on him for tonight's party," the girl replied smugly.
"You're joking, right? He already knows you."
"Not when I'm done with my make-up. He won't even recognize me," she replied confidently.
Godfrey scoffed inwardly. 'This is absurd.'
He was about to read when a shadow loomed over him, prompting him to lift his head. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Snow.
"What do you want?" he frowned.
Snow stretched forth an invitation letter, his face as placid as ever. "Congratulations. You've been invited to the Grand Party tonight, where Manhattan's King wants to meet you."
Godfrey skeptically took the invitation letter.
"It's off-campus, and there'll be students from other schools, including Polaris. So make sure you dress well. Don't come there in a uniform or sweatshirt," Snow added as he left.
"Has Nexus Club recognized Godfrey?" Cecil's eyes darkened.
***
At the rooftop, Percival emerged from the door, his eyes locking on the tall teen with short, snow-white hair. His hands were buried in his pockets as he stared into the vast expanse of the school.
"Jon," Percival called sharply. "Why did you send an invitation to the sophomore? I know his closeness to Isolde irritates you, and you dislike him more than anyone else."
Jon tilted his head slightly, revealing one side of his calm but calculating face.
"That doesn't matter. My duty as King is to fish out the elite and train them to become the next leaders, to maintain Manhattan's prestige."
"I hope that's all there is to it," Percival replied, but as he turned to leave, Jon spoke again.
"You once asked why we hate humanoid summoners. The weak ones are ridiculously pathetic; you can't help but feel disdain toward them. But I could never answered your question properly, until I met the strong humanoid summoners. They're the real vile things."
He turned fully, his expression darkening.
"You saw it too, in our last mission three days ago. They're cannibals, Percival. We humans feed on animals, but humanoid summons? They devour our beast summons, a part of our very souls!"
He took several steps forward, standing close enough that Percival could see the flicker of anger in his eyes.
"Cain's Fanatic is filled with them. And in our midst stands one of them… a wolf in sheep's clothing. One day, he'll do the same, and his target will surely be the one closest to him, the one who doesn't have her guard up."
His voice dropped into a hiss. "That will be Isolde."
Percival shut his eyes. "I saw it, but Godfrey is suffering from the fears and hatred of our society. If you don't stop, if you don't embrace like you do Snow, he'll become exactly what you fear."
Jon turned back to the skyline, his tone as cold as marble.
"Then I'll put an end to him. I won't be remembered as the King who allowed Manhattan to fall."
Percival's fists clenched. "Then what are you planning to do to him at the party?!"
Jon's voice was calm, almost emotionless.
"I won't lay a finger on him. I'll simply let him observe… and understand that he doesn't belong."
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