NOVEL NEXT Chapter 68: THE NOBLE'S REVENGE
The Academy's Grand Library occupied three floors of the central tower, its vast collection of texts representing centuries of accumulated knowledge from across the known world. Evening light filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows between towering shelves while the soft scratch of quills on parchment provided a gentle soundtrack to scholarly pursuits.
Aeloria sat alone at a corner table, surrounded by advanced texts on magical theory that reflected her growing mastery of Arcane Synthesis. Her studies had progressed rapidly under the academy's expert instruction, each lesson building upon the foundation of practical experience gained during their harrowing dungeon expedition.
The peaceful atmosphere was exactly what she needed after the intensity of recent events, Yomi's dramatic confrontations, the shifting social dynamics, the constant attention their group attracted. Here, among the books and scrolls, she could lose herself in the pure pursuit of knowledge without worrying about politics or power struggles.
It was this sense of security that made the approaching footsteps all the more jarring when they stopped directly beside her table.
"Miss Aeloria?" The voice was cultured, polite, carrying the refined accent that marked its speaker as nobility. "Lord Viktor Ravencroft requests your presence for an academic discussion."
She looked up to find two upper-year students standing over her with expressions that didn't match their courteous words. Marcus Blackwood, heir to a prominent magical family, wore the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. Beside him, Tobias Greenvale maintained perfect posture while his hand rested casually near his wand, too casually for coincidence.
"I'm afraid I'm quite busy with my studies," Aeloria replied carefully, her instincts screaming warnings despite their diplomatic approach. "Perhaps Lord Viktor could schedule a more convenient time?"
Marcus's smile widened, taking on a predatory quality that sent chills down her spine. "I'm afraid Lord Viktor insists on your immediate presence," he said, his tone remaining polite while the underlying threat became unmistakable. "This matter concerns your... association... with certain disruptive elements within our academy."
Before Aeloria could respond, both young men moved with practiced efficiency. Tobias's wand appeared in his hand with fluid motion, weaving binding enchantments that wrapped around her like invisible chains. Her limbs locked in place as the magic took hold, preventing both movement and spellcasting as magical restraints settled over her consciousness.
"Now then," Marcus said with satisfaction, gesturing for Tobias to help lift their immobilized target. "Lord Viktor is waiting, and we wouldn't want to keep him disappointed."
The kidnapping was executed with the kind of casual authority that spoke of nobles accustomed to having their commands obeyed without question. Within moments, they were carrying her through rarely used passages toward the academy's outer grounds, her protests muffled by additional enchantments that prevented her from calling for help.
****
The Shadow Hound materialized in Yomi's suite like darkness given form, its substance seeming to flow from the very shadows cast by evening light through the windows. Glowing red eyes fixed on him with predatory intelligence while wisps of dark energy curled around its lupine form like smoke from a funeral pyre.
Yomi looked up from where he sat reading one of Ashcroft's forbidden texts, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to cold attention as he recognized the creature's purpose. Lirien and Kira, who had been engaged in their own evening activities, froze as the supernatural presence filled the room with an aura of barely contained menace.
The beast dropped a sealed scroll at Yomi's feet before retreating to a respectful distance, its form wavering between solid matter and living shadow as it waited for his response. When he broke the seal and read the contents, his expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
"Come to the old training grounds beyond the academy's outer walls. Come alone. Your friend's safety depends on your cooperation."
The message was unsigned, but its meaning was clear enough. Viktor Ravencroft had finally made his move, escalating their conflict beyond individual challenges into something approaching warfare.
"Yomi?" Lirien asked carefully, recognizing the dangerous stillness that had settled over him like a shroud. "What is it?"
"They have Aeloria," he replied quietly, his voice carrying the kind of controlled fury that promised terrible consequences for those responsible. " A gambit to force a confrontation."
Kira moved closer to his side, her small hand finding his arm as she sensed the anger radiating from him in waves. "Papa?" she whispered, using the term that had become natural despite its implications. "Are you going to bring her home?"
The simple question, delivered with absolute faith in his capabilities, served as both anchor and catalyst. Yomi's hand moved to cover hers, drawing comfort from her trust while his mind shifted into the cold, calculating mode that had once made him the most feared warrior in his original world.
"I'll handle this alone," he said, rising to his feet with fluid grace that spoke of deadly intent awakening. "This isn't your fight."
Lirien stepped forward, her hand moving instinctively to the twin swords at her back. "We're stronger together," she insisted. "Aeloria is part of our group...."
"And that's exactly why I'm going alone," Yomi interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "They expect numbers, tactics, magical solutions. They won't be prepared for what I actually am."
The Shadow Hound dissolved back into darkness as he approached the window, its purpose fulfilled. But before departing entirely, its glowing eyes lingered on him with something approaching respect, recognition from one predator to another.
****
The old training grounds lay far beyond the academy's manicured courtyards, a forgotten expanse of weathered combat rings and dilapidated weapon stores. Here, where nature had begun to reclaim the broken stones with tall grass and coiling vines, the air stank of old blood and silence. It was the kind of place people didn't visit anymore. The kind of place where screams wouldn't carry.
And it was here that Viktor's strike force waited, more wolves than students now. Their formation was flawless: every ambush angle calculated, every retreat cut off. Six upper-year elites, hardened not just by duels and exams, but by missions whispered about in the academy's darker corners. These were not bullies. These were killers.
At the forefront stood the three combatants, hand-picked for brutality.Fern Stonefist, his arms like granite, earth magic pulsing beneath his skin, ready to crush bones and hopes alike.Daemon Will, a sadist with a sword, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of sanctioned cruelty.And Theron Bloodaxe, heir to a mercenary dynasty, his lips twisted in anticipation of a clean, lawful kill.
Behind them loomed the arcane support.Mephina Voidcaster, a silent phantom cloaked in shadow magic potent enough to erase screams from memory.Lysander Shadowweave, his illusions so perfect they could trap a mind in a dream of endless suffering.Morgana Thornspell, her fingers already twitching with stored spells meant not to kill, but to break.
And at the centre of it all, stripped of dignity, shackled in glowing restraints that bit into her flesh with arcane venom, was Aeloria.
They had dragged her here hours ago. Her body trembled against the cold stone pillar, robes torn at the front, exposing skin not out of accident, but mockery. One of the men had ripped it with a sneer, exposing more than fabric. The moment lingered like a bruise in the air.
"Leave her sane," Daemon said with a dark chuckle, his voice slicing through the silence. "It's no fun if she's already broken."