Third Person’s POV

His every movement exuded authority and a kind of kingly wrath she hadn’t seen even in seasoned warlords.

Her gaze flickered to Velcy, the scarred girl who had remained frozen by the wall.

What was it about her that stirred such anger and protectiveness in this man?

Her thoughts raced with curiosity as she tried to piece together the dynamic she had walked into.

Judging by Virelle and Lucien’s behavior, they clearly knew Ethan well, as no one else would involve themselves so quickly, and certainly not with such resolve.

Just then, the man who had been creeping through the commotion, the one hiding in plain sight, finally made his move.

Unseen by most in the chaos, he slipped through the disorder like a shadow with murder in his heart.

He blended into the chaos perfectly, but not perfectly enough, as the dark-haired woman noticed him clearly.

Her sharp eyes followed his movements, but she made no move to stop him as she was curious to see if Ethan was truly as aware and dangerous as he seemed, or if his rage had made him blind.

As the man reached within striking distance, a flash of cold light shimmered near Ethan’s waist.

It was a cicada-thin dagger, its surface gleaming with dark venom that shot forward while aiming to stab through his side.

But just as the assassin’s smile crept onto his face and he expected to feel the blade plunge into warm flesh, something shifted in his senses.

Ethan’s body twisted subtly, and almost imperceptibly, while being just enough to throw off the trajectory as the dagger sliced through his clothes and narrowly missed his waist skin by a hair’s breadth.

The assassin’s smile froze as he didn’t feel the incoming satisfying squelch, and his blade encountered no resistance but only empty air.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and the only thought in his mind was,

What just happened?

His mind scrambled for answers, but instinct screamed too late, and his forward momentum was now a curse.

Before he could retreat and before he could vanish like a wisp of smoke, a metallic shriek filled the air.

The sound of a vicious, fast, and final blade whistled through the din.

With terrifying ease, Ethan drew his three-foot curved saber and drove it diagonally behind his back.

The wicked weapon pierced clean through the assassin’s stomach and emerged from the other side with a wet, squelching thud.

The man stopped in his tracks, and his breath caught in his throat as his entire body tensed.

He coughed violently and vomited a dark stream of black-red blood that poured from his mouth like ink.

His lips trembled, and his eyes began to glaze while only reflecting the pain and the confusion that accompanied it.

He looked down at the saber embedded in him, then up at Ethan, as if trying to comprehend how everything had gone so wrong.

He tried to speak and to plead for his life, but only choked gurgles escaped his throat as more blood bubbled up and dripped from the corner of his mouth in rivulets.

But Ethan’s eyes, glowing a deep and terrible crimson, met his with deadly stillness.

A sinister grin tugged at his lips as he slowly raised the man on the blade and lifted him like a banner of vengeance.

His bloodlust was written across his entire being, but just as Ethan was about to cleave him in two, a sharp and urgent voice rang through the turmoil and echoed in his mind.

‘Stop, Brother Ethan! Don’t kill him… not yet.’

It was Virelle.

Her voice was threaded with urgency and command and reached him just in time.

Ethan’s frown deepened, and his smile faded as the saber paused mid-motion with the unconscious body still impaled.

The desire to end it pulsed like a drumbeat in his blood, but he forced himself to stop.

With a frustrated grunt, he yanked the saber free and flung the assassin to the side like a broken doll.

The limp figure crashed through a shattered table and rolled to the floor, unconscious and barely breathing.

Ethan stood there with his saber in hand and blood dripping from its edge as his breaths were steady, but the fury hadn’t left his eyes.

Only then did he notice that Erik, the one who had started it all, had finally passed out from the savage beating he had endured.

His body was twisted unnaturally, his limbs limp, and his face unrecognizable beneath the blood and swelling.

The storm had calmed, but the silence that followed was thick with awe… and dread.

‘We’ll be in a predicament if we kill them here, Brother Ethan. This is the Sanctum realm, and I can say with absolute certainty that there are teachers keeping watch over everything right now.

The moment you try to kill, they will step in, and you will lose your chance to ever enroll again.

Don’t underestimate them either. They are all in the Crystal Formation Realm… and a few of them might even be in the Sky Realm.’

Virelle’s voice rang clear in Ethan’s mind through the transmission, calm yet laced with firm urgency.

Hearing her words, Ethan’s boiling rage began to simmer down.

He wasn’t particularly surprised by her message, as he had never intended to kill them anyway, especially not here and not at this time.

This place was too public and too close to the Sanctum.

But that didn’t mean they would walk away unpunished.

They had already received enough to remind them and everyone else watching of their place.

A deterrent had been set, and that was all that mattered.

It was especially true for Lucien, who had yet to see him fighting, and Ethan knew that today’s show would teach him better than to plot against him.

He was not unaware of his nefarious intentions, as Lucien’s dislike and annoyance towards him were clearly visible on his face.

With a flick of his wrist, he dragged the unconscious figures toward the doorway and tossed them there like discarded trash.

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