BANG!
A punch into his stomach had Damian choking and gasping for air. He descended into coughing fits as dollops of spittle and fluid careened out of his mouth.
"Disgusting,"
Amidst his lungs' desperate need for oxygen, Damian heard this word vividly as though they had been said directly to his ear. His eyes reddened slightly, not from sadness, but from rage. Had he known she would choose to be aggressive rather than ignore him, he would have bottled up his feelings for her.
He took long and deep breaths, satisfying his respiratory organ, as he proceeded to stand up. But, who would have thought that, let alone being aggressive, she was intent on humiliating thoroughly. A leg stomped hard onto his head, forcing him back to the ground.
At this point, even a dove would be seething in rage. Was there a need to be so cruel? Damian gritted his teeth, strainingly shifting his head upward to get a view of the lady's face;
Long, white hair framed her immaculate face. Her eyes were the darkest shade of black, twinkling with a predatory glint. Her lips were full and luscious, their natural crimson color gleaming with a bloody allure. Couple those with her extremely curvy body, and almost no male could escape her.
Currently, Damian, however, wasn't seeing this. No, what lay bare before his eyes was the slight curve of her lips that screamed disdain, and the slight twinkling of her eyes that rang contempt.
"I must have become so cheap that even a worm like you dares to ask me out? Huh?" her voice was melodious, but the barely contained scorn laced underneath her words made it sound especially grating to his ears.
By now, Damian's gaze had gone frighteningly cold. If gazes could kill, there was no doubt the lady would have been diced into countless parts. He was just that enraged.
"Angry? What right do you have to be angry at me? What use is a anger with barely any power to back it up? Huh?"
Every of her questions was accompanied with repeated light stomps on Damian's head, the sole of her shoe smearing his black hair in non-existent dirt.
Damian didn't answer, or more appropriately, he had no answer. The truth was, she was indeed correct. He was frail and barely had any muscle mass. He would be 20 this year, and yet, even a healthy underage could turn him into a ragdoll.
But, this wasn't something Damian was worried about, because…
'Were it not for the limiters placed on me, let alone you, even your grandfather would cower before me… soon, very soon… I will make you swallow your words…'
Still, the humiliation was not something his prideful self could digest. Even now, he could hear the snickers and mocking giggles of his classmates, and it enraged him to no end. But, with no strength to speak of, he could only rein in his anger.
"What a pathetic loser,"
The melodiously grating voice came again, except this time, it was accompanied by a coldness that seemed intent on layering his spine in frost.
"My kindness is limited. Should you try this with me one more time, I wouldn't let you off the hook so easily."
With that, she walked off.
Damian's cold eyes fixated on her departing figure, his thoughts a compendium of malevolence. He clenched his fist so tightly, his nails dug into the delicate skin of his palm. The result was his blood trailing his palm to drip on the floor.
He was vexed, so vexed, his pain sensors couldn't pick on the wound he had just inflicted on himself. None had dared disrespect him this way. Unfortunately, in exchange for the rewards of the events that would take place few hours from now, he had to endure.
A sigh escaped his lips, staggering, as he proceeded to stand up. Upon grasping himself firmly, he walked out of his classroom. He wanted nothing to do with idiots.
He had no doubt that, a few hours from now, these so-called classmates of his would be seeking his help.
*
Damian sat in his dorm room, wrapping a pristine white bandage around his palm. Before him was a wall clock, his focus entirely on the thing as though his life depended on it.
A few hours had passed since the little scene that occurred in his classroom. And now, the time read 7:58 PM.
'Two minutes…'
Damian thought. His eyes scanned his room before it settled on an object that lay silently on the only table in his dorm room.
It was a ring. A ring that was not dissimilar to any other rings in the world, until one examined it. It was red in color, and its' body displayed fine details of excellent craftsmanship.
Moving towards it, Damian picked the ring up, and slid it on his middle finger. This was an item his mother had secretly gifted him, before he left his home. An action that his father definitely couldn't know.
A soft smile curled at Damian's lips as he caressed the gleaming, crimson red ring. Under normal circumstances, his mother was always a meek and loyal woman who abides by every rule. However, when the well-being of her children comes into fray, she becomes a fierce tigress that didn't conform to any rules.
While Damian may appear to be an orphan to the students of his university, the truth was, he was far from that. He was from a family the whole of Earth couldn't even begin to comprehend.
His family, the House of Octavius, was a hegemon with hundreds of Clusters to their name. As such, they had wealth the likes of which even the wealthiest on Earth couldn't hope to match.
If things were put this way, then it suddenly became confusing why Damian would choose to appear as an orphan, when infact, he could have the whole world in his palm.
The House of Octavius, however, were unique in such a way that, they demanded their males, particularly the Heirs, to start from the lowest stratum should they ever harbor the ambition to become a Patriarch.
Their goal? So, they could learn to rely on themselves, and not on the vast wealth and resources their families had in overabundance in their treasury.
Getting to this point, Damian's smile became pronounced. Just by the ring that currently rested on his finger, it appeared his mother had thought otherwise.
There was no way she would send her precious child going, without at least a few things.
'Few?' Damian questioned himself.
'Few', in this context, was from the perspective of the House of Octavius. Damian didn't doubt that, that 'few', could already place him at the top of the richest persons on Earth.
Again, he smiled.