Chapter 54: Brutality

The nobles looked at the figure draped in the vulture robe before them, their expressions shifting dramatically.

They thought the Vulture had sent someone.

How could people from the Vulture be acquainted with a red dragon?

This question echoed in the mind of everyone in the hall.

"May I ask who Your Excellency is?"

Muk stepped forward and asked.

Beside him, the male mage from the academy named Sel had already primed a fireball in his hand.

Roche smiled, his voice low and deep:

"Let's skip the formality of introductions."

"I can't be bothered."

The moment his words fell, Roche moved.

Pushing off the ground with explosive force, he sprinted straight toward the man named Sel.

The rankless nobles present saw only a blurred, illusory phantom flash before their eyes,

and then Roche appeared right in front of the mage academy student named Sel.

Sel's eyes trembled in shock, never expecting Roche's speed to reach such a terrifying degree.

He hurriedly flicked the staff in his hand, and a blazing fireball, radiant as a dazzling sun at the tip of the staff, shot forth directly toward the approaching Roche.

Third-tier Mage Skill: [Great Explosion Flare]

Looking at the scorching fireball flying toward him at close range, Roche let out a soft breath, pulled back his arm, swung it forward, and delivered a devastating punch downward!

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Centered on the point of contact between Roche's fist and the fireball, a violent explosion rapidly rippled outward.

Sel inevitably got caught in the shockwave of the blast.

His body was sent flying backward, slamming heavily into the wall behind him as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Yet what chilled the onlookers to the bone even more was that,

as the smoke cleared slightly, Roche, standing at the epicentre of the explosion, showed no visible injuries!

It merely looked like his outer garments had been affected by the blast, so he had slipped on a new cloak.

Gazing at Sel crumpled against the wall, Roche uttered not another word. Bursting out from the smoke with terrifying speed,

he charged straight toward Sel once more.

Just as he was about to reach Sel, he sensed a dense, formidable surge of energy rushing toward him from the side.

Turning his head, he saw

Muk.

In his hand now was a black-and-gold staff inlaid entirely with azure crystals. Layer upon layer of mystical, exquisite blue magic arrays stacked along the staff's shaft until the entire weapon was encircled by arcane runes.

A blue-and-gold pillar of light surged from the tip of the staff, hurtling toward Roche.

"That staff... it's the Azure Star!"

A noble recognized the staff in Muk's hand.

It was a third-tier staff personally presented to Muk by the vice dean of the mage academy after he won the championship in the Youth Mage Tournament.

It was exceptionally compatible with Muk's mastery of star-attribute mage skills.

Yes, Muk was a once-in-a-century genius of Bantanda, specializing in star-attribute skills with overwhelming destructive power.

Ever since acquiring this staff, he had firmly secured the position of chief among Bantanda's younger generation of mages.

"Surely there shouldn't be any problem now."

Viscount Ror, standing in the corner, muttered to himself.

He had once witnessed Muk wield this staff—its immense power had left a deep and lasting impression on him.

Yet a trace of unease still lingered in his heart;

the events of tonight had stripped away his usual aristocratic composure, making it difficult for him to remain calm and confident.

Sure enough,

the next second, his breath hitched involuntarily.

In his field of vision, Roche's speed was actually a fraction faster than before.

Before the blue-and-gold beam unleashed by Muk could reach him, Roche grabbed Sel by the collar.

Then, with a swift motion, Roche slammed Sel heavily onto the floor, knocking him unconscious on the spot.

Muk's missed blue-and-gold beam struck the ground, instantly blasting a massive crater into the flooring.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Roche chuckled softly and charged directly at Muk.

Seeing this, Muk's gaze sharpened.

His free hand, the one not holding the staff, also conjured a starlight-emitting magic array.

A beam of light, slightly dimmer than the one radiating from the staff, surged from the array in his palm,

shooting toward Roche as well.

The two beams formed a crisscrossing barrage, blasting furiously toward Roche.

Yet Roche continuously exerted force through his feet, his figure shifting positions endlessly like a phantom,

completely evading both streams of light.

Instead, he closed the distance between himself and Muk at a rapid pace.

Muk's expression changed drastically. Hand-in-hand arrays flickered at his feet, and blue-gold radiance poured forth from them, expanding outward.

With a single step, Muk's body teleported to the far edge of the expanding light.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead; it was evident that utilizing this skill took a heavy toll on him.

Watching Roche pivot and charge at him once more,

Muk brandished his staff, and a magic array far surpassing any previous one materialized before him, instantly multiplying into six slowly revolving arrays.

This was his most confident and powerful skill.

[Descent of the Stars]

Giant, dazzling stellar phantoms drifted outward from the six magic arrays. Visually, they seemed to move quite slowly, but only Roche, caught dead-center in the target zone of the six arrays, could perceive just how terrifyingly fast those stellar phantoms were actually descending.

The six large magic arrays slowly adjusted their angles, leaving Roche with nowhere to dodge; he had no choice but to take the hit head-on.

Boom, boom, boom!

Earth-shattering roars echoed, and the entire hall began to shake violently.

This hall, reinforced repeatedly by the nobles, was reaching its absolute limit.

Panicking, the nobles attempted to flee.

However, Tarsanya blocked the doorway, taking down anyone who tried to escape with a single punch each.

"What in the world does this damned female dragon think she's doing?! Do you seriously think that man can still hold out?! Once Lord Muk finishes him off, you're next!!"

A noble roared furiously.

Many other nobles chimed in immediately.

Looking at the crumbling hall before them, genuine terror gripped their hearts.

Yet Tarsanya said nothing, merely stepping forward to knock the nobles to the ground one by one.

In her view, these foolish people were completely oblivious to the sheer terror of her master, nor was there any need to explain anything to them.

Besides, they would all be knocked out by her shortly anyway.

Nearby,

Muk panted heavily, staring at the center of the battlefield repeatedly battered by the stellar phantoms.

A sense of relief washed over him.

Taking the full brunt of Descent of the Stars like that—even a Paladin using defensive skills would sustain severe injuries.

Let alone this fellow, who appeared to be nothing more than a berserker.

It was over. Fortunately, he had managed to preserve the dignity of the Mage Academy in the end.

Yet the next second, a scratched arm reached out from the smoke, shattering his thoughts.

Roche had changed into yet another new cloak, lunging toward Muk like a ferocious beast.

Muk was too slow to dodge, and Roche's fist struck him heavily in the abdomen.

In an instant, Muk felt his internal organs churning violently.

Blood and visceral fluids sprayed forth together.

Muk's eyes widened as he opened his mouth, trying to say something.

Ultimately, however, no words came out; he rolled his eyes and passed out cold.

Roche brushed away a scratch on his arm, looked over at Tarsanya, who was busy knocking out the nobles one by one, and said:

"Tarsanya, speed it up."

Simultaneously, with a push of his feet, his figure flashed before the remaining nobles and attendants.

With swift chops of the edge of his hand, the nobles collapsed to the floor amid screams and panic.

Viscount Ror, the daughter of the very Viscount Ror who had once seized his home, the sharp-faced viscount...

One familiar face after another was beaten into unconsciousness.

As he approached the shivering Mrs. Chelsea cowering in the corner, the coldness in Roche's eyes softened slightly.

With a gentle tap, Mrs. Chelsea lost consciousness.

After also knocking out Mrs. Chelsea's husband, Baron Torel, Roche walked up to Frey.

Just as he was about to strike,

Frey desperately masked the terror in his eyes, his voice trembling as he spoke:

"You aren't my younger brother, are you? Where is my brother?"