Chapter 109: Desperation (1)

Seeing that the sound dampening spell had finally been deployed successfully, Michael realized he was in a precarious position. Locked in a room with three attackers and no way to escape—no way to call for help, his survival instincts kicked in.

Wait, can’t I request help on the network?

The thought barely crossed his mind before the two youths at the front began to walk towards him while Randolph maintained the spell with intense concentration.

“It’s time to teach you a lesson you won’t forget…” Troy stated, his voice gravelly, containing barely repressed rage.

Michael pulled at his lightning whip which didn’t budge, wearing a desperate expression. But this was only on the surface. He shot a wisp of mana into his violet emblem, activating it.

A translucent window appeared in front of him.

[Unable to connect to the network]

[Please try again later]

Michael’s face fell, a fact not missed by the approaching students.

What’s happening!? The network is meant to work as long as I’m within the castle grounds…

Troy let out a laugh, filled with malice. “You don’t think we would have thought about that Michael? How dumb do you think we really are?” he added with barely disguised glee.

“You think you’ll get away with this?” He replied, trying to buy time—reactivating the network again with another surge of mana. Unfortunately, he was met with the same message.

It was clear that the reason why it wasn’t working was because of something Troy had done—though he didn’t know how.

“What do you mean?” he said, flipping his hand over and producing a familiar looking vial filled with red liquid.

Michael’s eyes widened in recognition, seeing the Bloodmend Phial medicine—the same type he’d won from Randolph in the bet just a month ago.

“As long as we leave no evidence, there won’t be any issues.” Troy said, his dark enthusiasm palpable. “Now, I’m going to take my time and enjoy what happens next. Feel free to scream as much as you like—no one will hear you.”

He returned the medicine back into his storage ring and surged forward, pulling back on the whip in order to bring Michael closer.

The move was quick, causing Michael to let go of the whip out of necessity. He dodged to the right, barely avoiding the punch that thundered towards his face with more power than he’d expected from a teen around his age.

But as he tried to circle away, he was met with the other teen who tried to grab him. Out of instinct, he rolled on the ground, desperately dodging the clutches of his opponent before deftly rising to his feet.

He now found himself in the center of the room—surrounded by the three youths.

“Get him!”

Michael turned to Randolph on the far side of the room, his expression turning fierce.

If I can cancel the spell, or even use him as a hostage…

As soon as the thought popped into his mind, Michael surged toward his target, recklessly infusing mana into his legs. They had learned the basic principle during combat class—but the results were still mixed.

Yet as he felt his speed and power increase, a surge of joy crept into his heart. He was going to make it in time. As long as he could get to Randolph before the others got him, he might have a chance of escaping.

“Gravitas Vincula.”

A deep voice called out within the room, the effects almost instantaneous.

Michael felt a crushing pressure from above—forcing him to stumble forward, almost losing his footing entirely. At the last moment he was able to stabilize—but whatever momentum he’d gained from the momentary surge of strength was lost, rooting him in place.

Gravity magic!? Not good!

Randolph was only ten feet in front of him. He had only needed another second or two to reach the guy and disrupt his spell—but now the distance seemed insurmountable.

He reached out his left hand and began to chant an incantation. Randolph’s face morphed into one of horror.

“Glacius Hastam—”

The mana circle barely had begun to form before Michael’s words were cut off. A boot thundered into his fractured ribs, sending him flying towards the other end of the room—a pain-filled cry escaping his lips.

He coughed, the movement causing another wave of pain to surge through his ribs. Fear, hatred and pain interposed, clouding his unsteady mind—but beneath it, desperation reared its head.

“Glacius—”

He raised his hand again, intending on summoning his ice lances towards Randolph again. His only way of escaping this hell was to deal with the young noble, otherwise he would suffer an intense beating.

This time, his incantation was cut short by a pair of strong arms wrapping around his neck in a chokehold—making his words die in his throat. He was lifted with relative ease and made to stand up, now facing the approaching Troy.

With the sound barrier in place, the guy no longer needed to cover Michael’s mouth.

“Hold him still.” The guy instructed, sending a short right hook towards his battered ribs.

The dull sound of flesh colliding sounded—swiftly followed by a scream. Michael felt his broken bones shift beneath the blow, feeling like a hot knife was stabbing him.

But the next punch came swiftly, a straight left to the bridge of his nose, making his vision swim. Various blows began to rain down on him from every angle, but he was powerless to resist.

Every punch seemed to sap at his strength—bringing him closer to unconsciousness.

It hurts…

Mom, it hurts so much…

A sense of helplessness overcame him, causing his subconscious to reach out to the one who always comforted him. The presence who was always there to pick him up whenever he was down.

Her blurred features appeared in his mind as the blows continued to strike him.

“MICHAEL!”

His mother’s shrill scream sent a shiver up his spine. It wasn’t the caring voice he’d been used to—it was the final scream before her death—the one that had haunted his dreams for the past three years.

“UNFORGIVABLE!” he screamed.

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