Chapter 60: Party Animal

“Move out of their way.” Solomon says finally.

“He speaks! Why, for a moment there, I almost took you for a mute.”

The young prince wrapped his arm around Everett’s shoulder like a viper.

“There’s no need to get your testes in a twist, you colossal boar. Everyone here is present because they want to be. It’s all just a bit of good fun and some seniors helping out their cute juniors. You could call it tradition.”

“Your entire family will be hanged for this…”

The golden princeling glared at the green-haired one with the fury of a thousand suns.

“I don’t think you remember where you are, Andros. Your Eirbaine name means nothing here. Didn’t your father tell you that?”

The golden boy, Andros, grits his teeth. A sight that makes his agitator want to laugh.

“Oh… I know what it is that sticks in your craw. You’re upset you were not as popular with the ladies as our friend Everett here. But you can’t take it to heart, really. Whoring is in his blood from what I hear…”

“Do all Ostego pigs find such zeal in gossip, or are you the infuriating exception?”

Solomon speaks again, and when he does, there is a problem with his voice.

It’s too light. Too even.

He sounds nothing like a man who’s just come face to face with a prince of the people who razed his island.

His malice is nonexistent. His composure is absolute.

“Take your hand off my teammate and move out of their way. I’m liable to get upset if you don’t move while I’m being nice.”

The entire world seems to go silent.

Every pair of eyes in the room is glued to Solomon.

He is an enigma with glowing orange eyes. No one seems to comprehend or understand him. Mostly, they just seem to think he’s insane.

Laughter comes from the mouth of the Ostego prince. It is a deep, guttural sort that is born of genuine amusement.

“A teammate, eh?” He nudges Everett in the ribs, making him wince. “Don’t tell me, is this the annoyingly overbearing team leader you were asking me to get rid of?”

Everett’s eyes dart over to Solomon. They tremble with a very real fear that is easy to perceive.

“Y-You’re mistaken, Declan. I didn’t say anything about-”

“Are you calling me stupid…?”

Everett wishes he could take the words back as soon as he says them.

A swift hand cracks him hard across the jaw, and he crumples to the ground.

For the first time, Solomon’s jaw tightens.

“If your father weren’t an obedient little vassal, I would crush you underfoot… but you should applaud my magnanimity. I will honor your request even though you have insulted my intelligence.”

Declan holds out his hand and one of his acolytes passes him a pair of pants.

The room was already beginning to clear, but now, people were practically clinging to the walls so as not to be caught up in the middle.

Declan smiles mockingly as he stands ten paces from Solomon.

He stance is one of complete poise, his hands clasped behind his back and a condescending smile on his lips.

“Come on then, my good man. Seeing as how you’ve lived this long, I canonly surmise that you must be at least mildly competent. I’ll allow you the first move then. I will delight in being the only member of my family to see the magics of the dragon’s people up close.”

Declan suddenly dances about, his hand beckoning Solomon as if he were a jester baiting a bull.

There is a low chorus of laughter from the other nobles walls.

Solomon can’t blame them for laughing, as it is funny, but he doubts they are all laughing for the same reason.

“What’s taking you so long, man? Don’t tell me you’re going to bore me and start praying now, are you?” Declan goades.

Solomon’s smile becomes a bit wider. He lowers his head, shaking it to himself as if he can’t believe what his life has become.

And then, much to Declan’s surprise, he turns away.

The young prince stops in his tracks.

“What? All of that bluster and you-”

Everything seems to happen so quickly.

Solomon suddenly kicks the table toward Declan. The various oils and beverages that were resting atop it fly into his eyes and blind him; causing him to curse and scream.

He keeps his eyes open despite the pain and swats away the table rushing toward him, crushing it into splinters.

But the table is only a feint.

Rushing right behind it is Solomon, who tackles Declan’s midsection and drills him into the furthest wall.

A series of thunderous blows strike the young noble’’s ribs one after the other. Every collision results in a sound like snapping thunder. The bluish black bruises they leave behind are proof that the attacks hurt as badly as they look.

But Declan was a sophomore at Volkova Academy. A position he could not have reached if he were incapable of swallowing back a bit of pain and dealing some of his own.

He is an advanced yellow core. Only a half-step away from green.

It is a denomination that ideally comes with a certain level of respect.

He raises his elbow above his head and brings it down on the small of Solomon’s back.

There is a brutal snapping sound, and Solomon briefly goes rigid.

Declan grabs Solomon by his braids and raises his head. An aura-covered fist slams into Solomon’s nose with a wet crunch that makes the occupants of the room flinch.

Solomon’s body is sent flying. He slams into the wall on the opposing side of the room.

He crashes to the ground and lies face down among a series of yells from the crowd. His spine is broken. His face now sports a fist-sized crater.

For the first time since he became Disaster, Solomon faces someone he cannot immediately overpower. Declan is physically stronger than him. Perhaps he could have broken his bones even without aura.

He remains unmoving so that the entire room doesn’t witness his absurd regeneration.

In two seconds, he is getting back on his feet as Declan is being passed a pike.

The princeling is initially confused when he sees Solomon standing up with only a nosebleed.

He is certain that he felt his bones crack. He is even more certain that Solomon should not have been able to stand up after the barrage he endured.

However, Declan doesn’t particularly care to figure out why he can get up either. As long as his brutality can continue, he has very little interest in anything else.

All he can think about is Solomon’s bloody smile.

His pike becomes covered in a sweltering green aura. A fierce wind is kicked up in the room, and it finally sets in for everyone present that the danger level has been increased considerably.

Now, it is Solomon’s turn to beckon.

“Come on then. I’ll let you have the first move.” He grins.

The entire room sees Declan’s face tighten. A vein in his forehead seems as if it is going to burst.

He moves with a speed that Solomon cannot hope to follow, and drives his pike through Solomon’s stomach.

With a victorious yell, Declan raises Solomon’s body into the air as a trophy for all to see.

But Solomon is not lifeless. He is not losing strength.

His body slowly slides down the hilt of the pike, bringing him closer to Declan’s face.

And with his enemy holding onto his weapon with both arms, he is unable to defend.

Solomon begins striking Declan in the face. Unlike before, his punches sound like small explosions instead of cracks of thunder.

Declan can only take a single punch to each side of his face before white static begins to fill the edges of his vision. Solomon may not be able to match his strength, but he is still very far from being weak enough to ignore.

He knows instantly that he cannot suffer any more attacks or risk losing consciousness.

There is a rush of air, and Declan’s aura covers his entire body. The wave of power gradually shifts from a gaseous substance to a solid wall of mystic armor.

Solomon’s blows are no longer impactful. They harm him more than they do Declan. His knuckles quickly become raw, but they heal as fast as they are damaged.

His blows do not cease. They continue to rain down on Declan’s face like meteors, growing faster and faster as Solomon burns his stamina needlessly.

It is apparent to everyone that it is a pointless endeavor. The fight is over.

And yet, it is the futility of it all that seems to fuel Solomon It causes a previously unused region of his brain to light up with fireworks.

Solomon visualizes himself standing before an enormous wall.

He has nothing to climb over it. He cannot go around it. He must smash through it. Even when everything points to it being an impossibility.

He feels his ego swell.

He relishes in the sheer scale of the challenge before him, and his body rises to the occasion.

It starts with his skin.

His deep mocha brown skin tone turns black and develops a tough, leather-like texture.

Next, his entire body seems to swell.

His muscles balloon past their already impressive proportions and become dramatically larger. In addition, his entire skeleton grows another three feet, allowing him to tower over Declan.

His clothes rip almost immediately.

Declan can no longer hold him up and drops both Solomon and the pike.

As Solomon stands on his feet again, his boots implode without warning.

When his feet are revealed, they are… wrong.

They congeal together unnaturally.

In seconds, they can no longer be called feet at all. They are hooves.

Dark fur bristles across his exposed skin.

As his chest widens and a sleek tail whips from behind his back, magical waist-armor appears to cover his manhood at the same time that a chest plate and bracers appear on his upper body.

His face is the last thing to change, and it is undoubtedly the most impactful.

Every bone in his face shatters and reshapes. It is excruciatingly painful, but also an enormous relief at the same time.

He develops a large snout filled with sharp teeth. His eyes become consumed by their orange glow.

Blood spills from the side of his head as a pair of absurdly large horns curl out of his head. They are as imposing as axes. Sharper than any mortal blade.

His large, meaty hands reach for the pike embedded in his sternum and snap it in two before pulling it out. The portion of the spear sticking out of his back is pushed out by his mighty muscles, and the wound closes.

The two pieces of the weapon hit the ground with a metal ring, and Solomon turns his head toward the ceiling to unleash a deep bellow that is heard by the entire school.

Declan is visibly shaken, and so is everyone else in the room. Their eyes cannot believe what they are seeing.

“Holy hell…”

“H-How is he doing that??”

“H-He’s a contractor! He has to be!”

“But I thought only mages could be contractors!”

“What the fu-”

Solomon suddenly drops to all fours and lunges forward.

His speed, even in his much larger form, is flagrantly unfair, and it only enhances the tremendous power of his muscles.

With his head barreled down, he rushes at Declan and charges him through a wall.

The ancient stone of the school crumbles underneath the force, and both the man and the monster fall into the forest below.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep