Both Mina and I walked toward the waiting room for high nobles, following one of my sister student chunchil members who guided us there.
I could clearly see that Mina still seemed conflicted about whether she had handled the situation better.
I let her think in silence; there wasn’t much I could say to make her feel better; it wasn’t my speciality.
I noticed her lips parting, hesitating, as if she wanted to say something.
Just as I was about to comment about that, she finally spoke.
“Thank you, Asmari.” It was so faint I almost didn’t hear it.
I could tell it took a lot out of her to say those words.
I could even see a faint scarlet on her cheeks.
“What was that?
You’re whispering; I can’t hear you,” I said, a smug grin tugging at my lips.
A vein visibly bulged on her forehead as her embarrassment vanished.
“Tsk, kill yourself.” I chuckled.
Sentimentality didn’t suit our relationship, so I played it off and kept walking.
Soon, we reached the entrance.
Two sturdy wooden doors stood before us.
I pressed my hand against them and pushed them open, stepping into a familiar-looking waiting room.
Red couches lined the room, each with a table serving luxurious food—caviar, fine cheeses, and more.
It wasn’t a restaurant, just a waiting room fit for nobles.
Every noble family had a couch reserved just for them.
My eyes immediately landed on the Lightheart family’s couch, where a young man with tousled white hair sat.
His bangs fell over his golden eyes, giving him an effortlessly cool look.
He had a tall, athletic build, a sword resting at his side.
Several women chatted with him, and I recognised every one of them.
To Kevin’s left sat Eliza Runebright—blonde hair parted in the middle, cyan eyes, a face that could charm anyone.
She was from the seven-star Runebright family, the only house besides Lightheart and Lumina known for producing light affinity users.
On his right, a pink-haired girl with hazel eyes and a bright, cheerful smile clung to his arm.
That was Arliya Crystal, younger sister of Urliya Crystal, the now former vice president of the student council, and also a member of a seven-star family.
The third bitch had wavy blue hair cascading down her back, golden accessories woven through the strands; her dark navy eyes were calm and focused on Kevin as if nothing else in the room existed.
She wore a modest blue dress—just revealing enough to be alluring without crossing the line.
Morena River Leivithan, the second princess of the Leivithan kingdom, and the woman who framed me for assault.
My eyes burned with indescribable rage as I glared at her, wanting nothing more than to tear her throat out.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.
Revenge was best served cold; killing her now would only put my family in a bad spot.
I repeated that to myself until I regained control.
When I opened my eyes, I immediately looked away from her, not wanting to be triggered again—and my gaze landed on the Isol family table, the eight-star royal family.
Instantly, I locked eyes with a certain person.
She looked stunned, probably by how much my appearance suddenly improved.
I stared back, committing her calm yet dangerous ruby-red eyes to memory.
Her golden-blonde hair was parted slightly to the side, with crown braids running from her ears to the back of her head and the rest falling to her waist.
She wore a regal red dress, nothing like the outfit from the mall.
I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw her, and I liked how easily it did.
I don’t know how long I stared, but neither of us looked away for a good thirty seconds—until…
“Well, well, well.
What do we have here?” a guy suddenly said.
I reluctantly threw my gaze from Seraphina and turned it toward the speaking man.
“If it isn’t the useless heir to one of the strongest houses in the empire.
What do they call you again, the princess assaulter, right?
Tell me, how does it feel to have an infamous title before the academy event starts?
I clicked my tongue loud enough for him to hear. Get faster updates on g.com.
“If it isn’t Oliver Vallahell.” The fakest smile I could muster spread across my lips.
“What’s wrong?
You sound jealous.
Why, is it because of my appearance, maybe?” he sneered.
“As if I’d be jealous of you.
I’m just worried about the Dragaoth family’s future—especially with you as their heir.”
“Oh?” My lips curled into a genuinely amused smile.
“Shouldn’t I be worried about the seven-star Vallahell family then?
Especially when its future heir is out here killing his own sister?” His expression darkened, but I pressed on.
“Tell me, how does it feel to kill the only family member who actually cared for a pathetic bastard like you?
How old was she again?
fourteen?
Twelve?
No, she was eight, right?” My grin widened, mocking and devilish.
Oliver’s face burned with anger, growing red by the second when my final comment hit; he clenched his fist and charged at me with killing intent.
“I’m going to kill you!” he screamed, sounding every bit the arrogant young master he was.
I activated Apex Perception Eyes and readied myself for his attack.
I was hoping for this outcome; I was desperate to try my new aspect on someone.
My body glowed a deep orange before disappearing, and the world turned black and white.
My pupils dilated into slits as Oliver lunged at me, his fist cocked back, his enraged eyes locked on mine.
He was fast—extremely fast, almost too fast for me.
But the closer he came, the slower he moved, or that’s how it looked to me.
By the time his fist neared my face, it was so slow I managed to dodge.
At the last second, I slipped aside as his left hook flew past me—the wind from the punch brushing past my head.
His eyes opened wide in shock, but he must have thought it was a fluke—he tried punching me again.
But as I dodged his first punch, I saw a yellow mark flash on his knee in my black-and-white vision, but it vanished as he regained his stance.
He threw an overhand punch, but I narrowly dodged again—and this time, I didn’t miss my chance.
As soon as the yellow mark appeared, I fired a side kick straight at his knee.
He grimaced and let out a painful groan; I heard the few people there murmur, but I paid them no mind.
I watched as yellow and red markings spread across his body.
I didn’t give him a chance to recover; I slammed a hook kick into his chin, sending him stumbling backwards, nearly out cold.
All that MMA training back on Earth finally paid off, I mused.
I wasn’t talented at fighting—I just knew enough Taekwondo basics to protect myself.
But against people who were all muscle and no brains, technique was enough.
Oliver, who’d dropped to one knee, slowly stood up, saliva dripping from his mouth, eyes burning with hatred.
His body glowed silver as his essence flared around him; he had activated his Aspect.
“I swear I’ll make you regret existing.” As soon as I heard that cliché line, my wariness of his aspect vanished, and I burst out laughing, my eyes almost watering.
How much more of a third-rate villain can he be?
At least say something unique.
But as soon as I thought that, he attacked me again and screamed something that made me completely freeze.
“Are you making fun of me, you son of a whore!” Those words made me stop dead in my tracks, ringing in my head like a broken record.
I couldn’t process what he said.
Crack.
A crushing blow slammed into my chin, sending me hurtling into a wall.
Thud.
My body crashed into the wall before slamming onto the floor, pain racking my back and jaw, making my Aspect deactivate by itself, but my mind didn’t even register it.
All I could think about was his comment: Did he just call me a son of a whore?
Did he insult my mother?
As Luke, I’d been insulted countless times by people talking about my nonexistent mother—but I never cared, since I didn’t have one.
But as Asmari, that had never happened.
The old Asmari never appreciated her—he took her love for granted, growing up spoiled and rich.
But carrying both Luke’s and Asmari’s memories, the insult cut me deeper than any blade or curse ever could.
It felt like a knife in my soul.
And I felt the wrath of my prideful blood again.
In that moment, my body wanted only one thing—it needed to slay the bastard who dared insult my mother.
I didn’t care about saving my power for the combat assessment, or about revealing my trump card.
I just wanted to kill him.
I pushed myself off the shattered wall and glared at the smug bastard.
“What happened?
Did you drop the artefact you were using or something?
I knew a useless bastard like you could never suddenly dodge my attack.” But I wasn’t listening to the arrogant man.
I was pouring all my essence into my tattoo on my left chest for the second time today.
I activated the first curse of my blade.
The room grew suffocating, but I kept the intent focused.
I directed it at his smug face, wiping the smile right off him.
His eyes widened, and sweat poured down his face as he grabbed his neck.
He fell to the floor, convulsing and gasping for air, rolling in panic.
I walked slowly toward the suffocating man, my face shadowed with fury.
The people nearby stared at this situation in shock; I could see the combat-obsessed MC already getting excited at the possibility of fighting me.
The crown prince looked intently at the fight, amusement flickering in his eyes.
Seraphina also looked, her face showing genuine interest in the skirmish.
When I finally reached him, I looked down at his purple face, my anger undiminished.
I pressed my hand to my chest and spoke in my mind.
“Hokoria, give me the sword.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command—one she couldn’t refuse.
Without a word, a small black rift appeared beside me, distorting the air and swallowing the light around it.
Kevin’s eyes widened, and I could see his sword reacting violently, shaking on the table beside him.
I reached into the rift and immediately felt the hilt of a sword, but just as I was about to pull it free, a hand clamped around my arm, instantly removing my killing intent on Oliver, letting him breathe again—but it was too late.
He was already unconscious.
I looked up, surprised to see it wasn’t a person but a humanoid figure made of blood.
It had to be the Blood Queen’s doing—the headmaster.
My anger still simmered, but I wasn’t about to lash out while she was around.
I clicked my tongue and pulled my hand back.
The blood figure parted its nonexistent lips.
“Asmari Dragaoth, you’re next.”
I didn’t linger.
I strode toward the evaluation room door, slightly glad I hadn’t finished him off then and there; that would have been too merciful.
At that thought, I opened the door and walked through with the confidence of an emperor.
Meanwhile, a prince was already scheming.
His calm, vampiric ruby eyes watched the door Asmari had just exited through, like a scientist studying a fascinating specimen.
“The useless son, huh?” he mused, lips curling in amusement.
Maybe he isn’t so useless after all.
“Hector,” the Crown Prince Aurelius called.
“Yes, young master?” Aurelius’s loyal shadow, Hector, replied.
“Give me everything you can find on Asmari Dragaoth.
Don’t even leave out how many times a day he goes to the toilet.”
“Will do, young master,” Hector replied, bowing before quietly making a call.
Asmari Dragaoth, heir to the eight-star Dragaoth family.
You’re interesting, to say the least.
But let’s see what you’re really hiding.