Lucas locked eyes with Harry and Zhang Wei.
"Come at me together. Let me see if you truly have the resolve to stand against a 'Devil,'" he challenged, his voice steady yet laced with cold amusement.
As he spoke, his presence shifted—his aura unfurling like a vast, unfathomable ocean, reminiscent of the moment he had once destroyed his universe.
Harry and Zhang Wei remained rooted in place, their hearts pounding in their chests. They didn't want this fight—not when Lucas looked like this.
To them, he wasn't just confident; he was unhinged.
A composed lunatic.
Someone who would kill without a second thought.
They were just teenagers, untested by real battle. They had never stood at the brink of life and death, never taken a life, never even witnessed true carnage. Some of them had never even seen blood spilled in a real fight.
And now, confronted with Lucas' suffocating presence, they felt it—a primal fear clawing at their resolve.
But Lucas had no intention of letting them go. Not after what these two had done to NOX in the past timeline.
"Brace yourselves," he warned, his voice cold as steel. "Tonight will haunt you for the rest of your pathetic lives."
Something about his own words struck him as strange, even to himself. He shouldn't be enjoying this—but he shoved the thought aside.
Harry exhaled sharply, realizing there was no point in trying to explain this was all a misunderstanding. Lucas wouldn't listen.
Besides, backing down now would make him look weak. And in front of so many watchful eyes, that was unacceptable. He had to prove himself—not just as an 'Awakener' but as someone who wasn't afraid of Lucas.
With a surge of determination, Harry lunged.
He threw his full weight behind his fist, aiming directly at Lucas' face.
Lucas didn't move. He didn't even flinch.
The punch connected squarely, the force rocking through his skull. The impact sent him staggering back several steps, his vision instantly blurring.
The world around him wavered. He could barely make out Harry's figure through the haze.
A sharp ringing filled his ears, disorienting him, threatening to throw him off balance.
Warm blood dripped from his nose, staining his pristine white shirt in vivid crimson.
He clenched his jaw and violently shook his head, forcing himself to steady his footing.
"Young master!" Sari and Mei cried out in unison, their voices filled with concern.
Today, their young master was acting completely out of character, and they didn't know how to handle it.
He could've easily dodged Harry's punch, but he had deliberately stood still, letting the hit land.
Just as they were about to rush to his aid, Lucas' voice rang out, cutting through the air with cold authority:
"Stay back!"
The maids froze, instinctively flinching at the command. They dared not defy him, staying rooted in place, unable to move any closer.
Lucas' gaze turned to Harry, whose figure was slowly becoming clearer to him, the blurred image sharpening in his vision.
"Your resolve is lacking." Lucas commented, his voice flat, as he slowly walked toward Harry.
Harry instantly stepped back, unable to reconcile Lucas' current behavior with his usual kind demeanor. He was too popular for his handsome and benevolent nature.
But, he is acting like a lunatic, a composed Lunatic. Harry could feel his heart pounding more violently with each passing moment as he is gripped by terror.
Just as Harry lost in his thoughts, Lucas had already closed in on him.
Standing mere inches away from Harry, Lucas uttered - "Let me show you a punch laced with resolve."
Without giving Harry chance to respond, Lucas closed his fingers into a fist, with measured force, he punched Harry exactly on his solar plexus, making him rise from his feet before collapsing to the ground on his knees with a 'thud'.
"Ugh!"
Harry tried to bellow, his breath hitched, a strangled gasp that turned into a wheeze.
He tried to speak, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped his lips.
His eyes watered, and his face took on a grey hue.
Lucas watched Harry struggle grasp his breath and inhale, he leaned closer as he said, "How does it feel, Harry? Does it feel as if the world itself is refusing you breath? Is your heart pounding with a suffocating violence? You despise this, don't you? You crave the simple act of breathing, a basic necessity, yet you cannot, because the world has rejected you, denied you. It must have been... it was... how Nox felt, wouldn't you agree?"
Lucas said calmly, but a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice.
"When you, and those like you, systematically ostracized and framed him, denying him even the air to breathe. He must have felt.... this same suffocating despair, this same sensation of the world withholding life itself."
Harry looked at Lucas, his face green with pain, but at this moment, he was gripped by sheer terror.
Terrified that someone can be so composed, yet so utterly unhinged.
Because to Harry, Lucas' tone and his manner of speaking was that of someone innately kind. But the context he delivered it in was that of a terrifying devil.
"Okay... Breathe, Harry," Lucas continued, his tone now oddly gentle, as though speaking to an injured animal. "Take shallow breaths—don't fill your lungs completely. Your diaphragm is compromised."
But to Harry, it felt like a nightmare. How could he focus on breathing when terror held him in its grip?
"Alright, you catch your breath," Lucas said, his voice now authoritative. "When you're ready, I'll get back to you. I have other vermin to deal with."
His attention shifted toward Zhang Wei.
Zhang Wei froze under Lucas' gaze, a cold shiver running down his spine. He wanted to speak—wanted to claim that everything was a misunderstanding, that they hadn't harmed NOX—but the words caught in his throat.
"It was your idea to frame NOX as a womanizer, right?" Lucas asked calmly, his tone deceptively gentle.
'W-What…? When did I conjure such an absurd idea?'
He wanted to voice this aloud, but Zhang Wei could only murmur, his thoughts refusing to form coherent words.
Lucas walked slowly toward Zhang Wei, and before he could even react, he felt his vision darken as his face was overshadowed by the approaching palm.
With terrifying precision, Lucas slammed his palm into Zhang Wei's face, driving it into the ground. The force cracked the tiles beneath them, and blood poured from Zhang Wei's head, staining the floor a deep red.
Zhang Wei's eyes widened in shock and horror, but Lucas' upright form blocked his sight, trapping him in a feeling of helplessness.
"I know someone is behind you, pulling the strings… Tell him that I'm coming. Not just for him, but for his entire sect," Lucas warned, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
Zhang Wei could only stare as tears trickled down his face, paralyzed by fear.
"And one more thing…" Lucas continued, his voice eerily calm. "Do not forget to mention my name." He paused, letting the silence stretch for just a moment before speaking again, each word deliberate and heavy.
"Lucas. Lucas Heavenhart."
The moment those words left Lucas' lips, Zhang Wei's expression twisted into sheer horror. His pupils shrank, his breath hitched—and for a second, it looked as though his eyes might pop out of their sockets.
But Lucas wasn't finished.
"And one more thing…" he said, his gaze sweeping over the frozen crowd. "NOX's surname is Ashborn. He is the youngest and most beloved of the Dark Heaven Clan."
The moment he spoke those words, an eerie silence swept through the gathered students, suffocating the air itself. It was as if the entire world had stopped breathing.
Then, one by one, the realization dawned. Cold sweat drenched their backs. Their bodies stiffened. Their minds reeled as they grasped the gravity of what had just been revealed.
NOX… wasn't just some orphan.
He was an Ashborn.
And they had dared to frame him? They had planned to make his life a living hell?
Could they have survived the aftermath had they gone through with it?
No.
Could their families have survived the wrath of the Dark Heaven Clan?
Some in the crowd felt their stomachs churn violently at the thought.
Harry White and Zhang Wei were so utterly terrified by the revelation that their bodies gave out. Their faces turned ghostly pale. Their legs buckled.
And then—eyes rolling back—they collapsed.