NOVEL NEXT Chapter 20: A Matter of Justice
He stared at the glowing blue screen, his mind a battlefield.
The flashing image of the [Gamble of Fates] was a siren's call, promising a shortcut to unimaginable power. 10,000 points. All in.
One spin to change his destiny.
'But what if it doesn't?'
The thought was a bucket of ice water, dousing the flames of his greed. He looked at his luck stat again. A pathetic 5 out of 100.
The odds weren't just bad; they were a statistical certainty of failure. This wasn't a novel where the protagonist was blessed by fate. He was the villain.
His mother's voice, a gentle memory from a life he might never see again, echoed in his head. 'Hard work is the only path you can trust, Kenji.'
He let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his body.
"She's right," he whispered to the empty room. "This is a trap for fools."
He closed the system interface, the tempting glow of the spin wheel vanishing from his sight. The decision was made.
The academy had granted him a full day of rest after the duel. By the afternoon, the healers had done their work.
His ribs were still tender, but the potions had mended the worst of the damage. He was cleared to leave.
He was heading back to his dorm, walking through a section of the academy he wasn't familiar with. He turned a corner and found himself in the first-year wing.
As he passed an open classroom door, he heard whispers. Malicious, giggling whispers. They were talking about someone, and the name made him stop.
Elvara.
He paused in the shadow of the doorway, listening. Inside, a group of students were gathered around a desk.
"Did you hear? Her family officially disowned her this morning," a boy with slicked-back blond hair said, a sneering grin on his face.
A girl with elaborate twin-tails giggled. "What a cruel life. First, she's born a half-blood nobody even knows the mother of."
"And then he just throws her away like a used toy!" the first boy added. "Can you imagine the humiliation? Used and discarded."
"She's nothing," another student chimed in. "Just a pretty piece of trash."
Azrael's eyes scanned the classroom. He saw Elvara sitting alone by a window, her back to the gossiping students.
She was trying to read, but he could see the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her hands trembled. Their words were like poisoned arrows.
A memory, sharp and violent, flashed in his mind.
He was Kenji again, back in his old life. He saw his sister Hana near her school gates, surrounded by a group of older boys.
They were laughing, pushing her, knocking her books to the ground. They were calling her names. Poor. Charity case.
Something inside him had snapped. He didn't think. He just acted.
He had dropped his bag and charged. He broke one boy's nose, kicked another in the stomach. He had been a whirlwind of pure, protective rage.
The consequences had been severe. He was expelled. He had lost his own future, all for her. But he didn't have a single regret.
He looked back into the classroom. He saw Elvara, alone and tormented. He saw his sister. The situation was the same. The feeling was the same.
And his decision was the same.
He stepped out of the shadows and walked into the classroom. The air immediately went cold.
The whispers died. Every student froze, their eyes widening in terror as they saw who had entered.
He ignored them all. His gaze was locked on the blond-haired boy. He walked right up to his desk.
"Get up," Azrael said, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
The boy scrambled to his feet, his face pale. "L-Lord Ashveil… I…"
Azrael didn't let him finish. He grabbed the front of the boy's uniform, his grip like iron.
"You have a filthy mouth," Azrael said, his violet eyes burning with a cold fire.
He drew back his fist.
WHAM!
The punch was short, brutal, and efficient. It connected squarely with the boy's jaw.
The boy crumpled to the floor, unconscious, a trickle of blood leaking from his mouth.
The other students gasped, scrambling away.
Azrael stood over the fallen bully, his chest heaving. He then turned his icy gaze on the rest of the terrified students.
"I don't know what pathetic rumors you've been spreading," he began, his voice cutting through the fear. "But let's get one thing straight."
He pointed a finger at Elvara, who was now staring at him, her expression one of utter shock.
"The marriage between me and her was annulled. That is a fact. But it was not because I saw her as a tool or a toy. It was because I was not worthy of her."
The entire class was stunned into silence. This was not the confession of a villain.
"You're right," he continued, his voice laced with cold scorn. "She has seen a past worse than any of you pampered nobles could ever imagine."
"But I want you all to remember this." He took a step towards them, and they flinched back.
"After all of that, she never gave up. After every hardship, she stood back up. She has more strength and honor in her little finger than your entire worthless group has combined."
The 20-minute break was over. The classroom door opened, and a professor walked in, stopping short at the sight before him.
Azrael gave the stunned crowd one last, contemptuous glare, then turned and walked out of the room without another word.
The classroom erupted in confused whispers. Was that really Azrael Ashveil, defending his ex-wife?
Elvara was the most confused of all. She stared at the empty doorway. Her heart was pounding, her mind in chaos.
Was that an act? Another part of some manipulative scheme? Or was it genuine?
She didn't know. For the first time, she truly had no idea what to think of the boy named Azrael Ashveil.
From a shadowed alcove down the hall, Princess Isolde watched the entire scene unfold.
A slow, beautiful, and utterly terrifying smile spread across her face.
'How fascinating,' she thought, her mind already spinning a dozen new webs. 'He is not just a rabid dog. He has a code. A strange, violent sense of justice.'
This made him so much more interesting. And so much more useful.