Vonjo stopped mid-step, his boots grinding softly against the stone courtyard as he turned his head just enough to glance back over his shoulder.

His expression carried the faintest flicker of annoyance—barely visible, but enough to make the more observant onlookers tense.

“…Huh? What do you want?”

The air at the Academia’s grand entrance stilled, the faint hum of magical wards above them almost the only sound.

The teacher who had shouted before didn’t immediately speak.

Instead, he turned toward the other faculty members, addressing them with deliberate pauses and pointed tones.

“I don’t understand,” he began, voice calm but tight as if holding something back. “We mobilize the highest combat alert in years, gather every capable staff member at the gates, only for the intruder—the cause of the alarm—to simply… walk away? Without explanation? Without recompense?”

Another teacher frowned. “He’s explained himself.”

“Has he?” The man let the words hang, sweeping a slow gaze across his peers. “Or has he simply toyed with us? He strolls in past three layers of barriers as though they’re decorative, causes a panic among the students, has our principal rush here, our principal, mind you, and now we’re supposed to watch him leave as if none of it matters?”

He wasn’t saying it outright, but everyone could hear it in his voice—there was an unspoken challenge there, a silent I want to see if this man can be put in his place. And in his eyes… that challenge wasn’t just silent. It burned.

[BloodViolet]: Oh no. Oh no no no. He’s doing it.

[HexWeaver88]: Bro. BRO. You’re literally challenging Vonjo.

[CursedLatte]: Congratulations on your early funeral.

[VoidSeeker_X]: If this guy dies, can I have his staff? Asking for a friend.

[DarkHuntress_99]: No seriously, let him leave. Let him LEAVE.

[ArcaneChatter]: Or don’t. I love watching trainwrecks.

The stream of bullet comments grew harsher, faster. Some were already mocking the teacher, others egging him on in morbid fascination.

Vonjo’s brow lifted ever so slightly as he finally turned fully toward the man. “And why,” he asked, his voice smooth but with a subtle edge, “would I listen to you?”

The teacher’s lips pressed into a thin line before his control snapped. “Because you caused panic in the entire school!” His voice rose with each word, his chest heaving as he pointed a sharp, accusing finger at Vonjo.

“The wards shattered, alarms rang, the younger students were terrified—classes disrupted, corridors in chaos. And all for what? Your idle curiosity? Your whimsical visit? Do you have any idea how much authority you trampled by doing this?”

[DeathCradle]: …He’s yelling at Vonjo like he’s his student. This is suicidal.

[StarfallBard]: Imagine thinking you can lecture the guy who casually breaks into the Black Veil Academia.

[GhostFingers]: Sir, with all due respect, SHUT. UP.

Eugene, standing to the side, could feel his stomach knotting. He knew better than anyone here exactly how dangerous Vonjo could be.

If the man truly decided to act, no one here—save perhaps the principal—would be able to restrain him, let alone defeat him. The idea of this hot-headed teacher provoking him was like watching a lit match drop into a trail of oil.

Vonjo flicked his eyes toward Eugene and subtly raised a finger to his lips—a quiet command to stay out of it. Eugene froze, every instinct screaming to intervene, but he obeyed.

After letting the teacher rant, Vonjo finally tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking back onto Eugene. “Hey, kid… this guy. Is this Lorthran?”

The name alone made a few of the surrounding teachers exchange puzzled looks. Eugene’s brow furrowed, his reply slow and hesitant. “…No, sir. He’s not.”

Vonjo’s smirk deepened, though it was different now—no longer playful, but edged with something sharp and dangerous. Without another word, he began walking toward the teacher.

The man blinked, his posture stiffening. “What are you—” He stopped mid-sentence, realization dawning. The intruder—this unpredictable figure—was closing the distance between them in full view of the faculty and principal.

[HexWeaver88]: OH GOD HE’S GOING FOR HIM

[CursedLatte]: Middle of the day, in front of the principal…? Is Vonjo that lawless?!

[VoidSeeker_X]: Yes. Yes, he is.

[BloodViolet]: I can’t watch. Someone stop this—no, actually, don’t.

Vonjo stopped a mere step away from the teacher, close enough that the man could feel the heat of his breath when he spoke. His voice was low, but it carried, threading menace into every syllable.

“You’re not the one they call Lorthran.” His eyes narrowed, his tone turning into something colder, hungrier. “And yet… you dare to raise your voice to me? You dare to spit arrogance in my face?”

The man swallowed hard, but he refused to step back.

Vonjo’s smirk turned razor-sharp. “Do you think standing inside your precious Academia makes you safe? That behind your walls, your colleagues, your principal… you’re untouchable?”

The air changed.

Vonjo’s curse energy surged, bursting outward like a storm front rolling over the courtyard. It pressed down on everyone in range, heavy and suffocating, warping the air itself with invisible weight.

The teacher staggered a step back despite himself, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“You talk of panic,” Vonjo continued, his voice cutting through the oppressive energy. “You speak of fear among your students, your disrupted order. But let me tell you something…” He leaned in slightly, his smirk now almost feral. “Fear is not what I caused. Not yet.”

The teacher’s knees trembled as the curse energy thickened, the space between them feeling as if the air had been sucked out, leaving nothing but a vacuum of pure, crushing intent.

Vonjo’s words came slower now, each one deliberate. “I walked in without breaking a sweat. Your barriers didn’t even notice me until I let them. And now you stand here, puffing your chest, thinking you can lecture me like some misbehaving student?”

He raised a hand slowly, fingers curling as if ready to grab the man by the throat. The curse energy around his arm coiled tighter, darker, more violent with each passing second.

“You’re not Lorthran. You’re not even close. And yet… you dare.”

Vonjo’s palm hovered inches from the man’s collar as the teacher’s breath quickened, the heat of imminent violence sinking into his skin. Around them, the other teachers stood frozen, unsure whether to intervene or to let the lesson play out.

And then—

A hand, firm and unyielding, closed around Vonjo’s wrist.

The principal, silent until now, had stepped forward. His expression was calm, but there was steel in his eyes as he held Vonjo’s arm in place.

Vonjo’s eyes narrowed, his gaze burning into the principal’s steady expression.

“You dare to stop me?” His tone was sharp, cold, like the edge of a blade being drawn an inch from its sheath—enough to make the onlookers feel the chill in their bones.

The principal didn’t flinch. Instead, he bowed his head slightly, the respectful gesture at odds with the steel in his posture.

“Sir Vonjo… I apologize. On behalf of the Black Veil Academia, I apologize for any offense, misunderstanding, or inconvenience we have caused you.” His words came slow, deliberate, carefully measured so that each carried weight.

“I understand your power, your reputation, your reasons. But for the sake of these walls… for the sake of these students… I ask that you let this matter end here. You may leave peacefully, without further hindrance.”

The silence afterward was taut, as if the courtyard itself held its breath, waiting for Vonjo’s answer.

Vonjo gave it none.

Instead, without so much as a glance toward the principal, he moved. His hand shot forward, ignoring the grip on his wrist, ignoring the man’s authority, ignoring the weight of his plea.

The principal’s eyes widened—he tried to tighten his hold, to stop the motion—but Vonjo’s strength was overwhelming, and in the next heartbeat, his fingers closed around the throat of the angry teacher.

The three of them stood locked in a tense, awkward tableau—the principal’s hand still on Vonjo’s wrist, Vonjo’s palm firmly at the man’s neck, and the teacher, caught between rage and shock, glaring back with defiance.

The teacher’s voice came hoarse but biting. “What are you doing?”

Vonjo didn’t answer. His curse energy swirled tighter around him, an invisible current pulling the air thin, the pressure thickening until even the most hardened combat instructors among them began to shift uncomfortably.

The teacher’s own energy suddenly flared, an explosion of force so sudden that dust rippled across the stone floor. His aura was jagged, sharp-edged, reeking of something corrosive and unclean.

Vonjo tilted his head toward the principal without loosening his grip. “Step back.”

The principal’s brows drew together. “No.”

Before the tension could snap, the teacher rasped out through clenched teeth, “Let him, Principal. I’ll take care of this.”

That smugness in his voice—that glimmer of satisfaction—didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, least of all the live audience swarming the bullet comment feed.

[HexWeaver88]: Oh my god, he actually thinks he can take Vonjo?!

[CursedLatte]: This is the most confident dead man I’ve ever seen.

[VoidSeeker_X]: LET HIM. LET HIM.

[BloodViolet]: Bro’s life bar about to hit zero in real time.

[RotJaw_77]: Nah, nah, this is Darwin speedrunning itself.

[DarkHuntress_99]: Sir, do you not see the neck you’re in right now? That’s a Vonjo neck grip.

[ShadowWrithe]: The arrogance is just… chef’s kiss. Can’t wait for the regret phase.

The principal hesitated, glancing at the teacher. There was a certain conviction in the man’s expression, a strange glint in his eyes that almost seemed to say trust me. Slowly—reluctantly—he released Vonjo’s wrist and stepped back, his face unreadable.

Eugene, however, stepped forward at once. “Sir Vonjo—”

“Hey, kid.” Vonjo didn’t even look at him, his tone casual, though his grip never loosened. “Don’t come near. You might die too.”

Before Eugene could reply, the teacher’s voice cut in, dripping with condescension. “Yes, listen to your teacher, student. This is no place for you.”

Eugene froze. His eyes narrowed, but he stepped back.

Vonjo’s own gaze lingered on him for half a second. He knew the truth.

This teacher—Crizz—was a parasite in human skin. In the novel’s events, he had been one of the most disgusting obstacles the protagonist faced early on.

Behind the polished facade, he was a predator, a rapist of demon women, hiding under the guise of protector and scholar.

The kind of man whose mere existence poisoned the air around him.

Vonjo had no intention of letting that poison spread further. If fate had dropped this man into his reach, then Vonjo would see to it that Crizz never lived to enact his future crimes.

The bullet comments shifted in tone the moment his name appeared in the whispers.

[LamentedCrown]: That sick bastard—Vonjo, rip his head off.

[CursedLatte]: Justice speedrun any% incoming.

[BloodViolet]: Finally. Finally someone is gonna put him down.

[VoidSeeker_X]: Bro, forget discipline, go full execution mode.

Crizz sneered despite the voices, his lips curling. “You dare put your hands on me? Do you have the slightest idea what you’ve just done?”

Around them, murmurs rippled through the faculty.

“He’s dead now,” one whispered.

“Touching Crizz like that… does he even know?” another muttered, eyes flicking nervously to Vonjo’s hand.

“He’s finished,” a third said with certainty. “No one survives it. Not even someone like him.”

They spoke of Crizz’s bloodline ability—Decay. A vile curse that rotted whatever it touched, corroding flesh, bone, and even magical essence until nothing remained. Vonjo’s grip on his throat should have been suicide; in their eyes, he had already sealed his own fate.

[ArcaneChatter]: Ohhhhhh no. Does Vonjo not know about Decay?

[StarfallBard]: He’s gonna get eaten alive from the inside if he keeps that grip.

[HexWeaver88]: Vonjo’s ego just wrote a check his curse body can’t cash.

[RotJaw_77]: This is gonna be messy.

[DarkHuntress_99]: Either he dies or Crizz dies. No in-between.

[ShadowWrithe]: My bet’s still on Vonjo. Decay or not, he’s a monster.

The tension peaked, each second stretching as the curse energies of the two men snarled and collided in the air between them.

Crizz’s smirk widened as he suddenly moved, his own hand shooting up to Vonjo’s shoulder. His fingers clamped down, and from his palm seeped a viscous black substance, thick and unnatural, that spread like tar over Vonjo’s skin. It writhed as if alive, curling and tightening until it coated his shoulder completely.

“You’re dead,” Crizz whispered, and the substance pulsed.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep