With Melissa's plea echoing in his ears, Varron turned his attention back to the noble. His icy gaze met the noble's surprised eyes, a silent challenge hanging in the air between them.
"Do you know what you should do right now?" Varron's voice was as cold as a winter breeze, his words carrying a weight that made the noble flinch.
The noble blinked, taken aback by Varron's words. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His confident demeanor had vanished, replaced by a growing sense of fear.
Varron continued to stare at the noble, his gaze never faltering.
"Or do you want me to tell you?" he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
His words were a warning, a clear message to the noble - he had crossed a line, and it was time for him to face the consequences.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with anticipation. The tables had turned. The noble, once so confident and cruel, was now at the mercy of Lord Varron, a man known for his power and ruthlessness. The tension in the air was palpable, the crowd holding their breath as they waited for the noble's response.
The noble swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the ground.
"I... I apologize, Lord Varron," he stammered, his voice barely audible amidst the silent crowd. He bowed his head, a clear sign of submission.
But then, he added, "But it was the commoners' fault. They should have known better than to bump into me."
His words hung in the air, a desperate attempt to shift the blame. The crowd held their breath, their eyes darting between Varron and the noble. They knew how is Varron, the one who looked down on commoners more than anything. Would he accept this excuse?
Varron's gaze remained unwavering, his eyes as cold as ice. He stared at the noble for a moment, his silence more intimidating than any words. The noble could only bow his head, waiting for Varron's response.
Varron's gaze narrowed at the noble's words.
"So, you say it was the commoners' fault?" he asked, his voice as sharp as a blade.
As he spoke, he noticed the noble's guards started moving to protect their master.
But Varron was quicker. With swift, precise movements, he landed a punch on each of the guards.
Baam,Baam
They crumpled to the ground, unconscious before they even knew what hit them. The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with shock.
With the guards taken care of, Varron reached out, his hand closing around the noble's neck. His grip was firm but not crushing, a clear display of his power and control.
"The pride of a noble seems to have corrupted you," he said, his voice as cold as the winter wind.
"The true dignity of a noble must always remain. A real noble knows how to answer my question properly."
His words were a stark reminder of the noble's misstep, a public admonishment that left the noble with no room to maneuver. The noble could only choke, his eyes wide with fear and surprise.
Varron's gaze bore into the noble, his words echoing in the silent marketplace.
"This makes me wonder... do you think you're a real noble?" he asked.
The noble's face turned pale as Varron's words hung in the air. His eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but finding none. He was caught in Varron's icy gaze, the fear of death creeping into his heart.
"I... I..." he stuttered, his voice barely a whisper.
He struggled to form words, to give an answer that would save him from his predicament. But fear had a tight grip on him, choking his words and clouding his thoughts.
His eyes met Varron's, and he saw no mercy there, only a cold, harsh judgment. He was a noble, yes, but in that moment, he felt as helpless as a commoner. His status, his pride, none of it mattered in the face of Varron's power and authority.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with anticipation. The noble, once so confident and arrogant, was now a pitiful figure, trembling under Varron's icy gaze.
With a look of disgust, Varron released his grip on the noble's neck.
"Tch," he scoffed, his gaze as sharp as ever. The noble gasped, clutching his throat as he stumbled back, relief washing over him.
Varron's gaze swept over the crowd before returning to the noble. "Leave this place," he commanded, his voice echoing through the silent marketplace. His words were not a request, but an order, a final dismissal of the noble's presence.
The noble nodded, his eyes wide with fear as he took a shaky step back. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving his unconscious guards.His proud demeanor replaced with a pitiful fear.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the noble retreated. They then turned their gaze to Varron, a new sense of respect and awe in their eyes. The noble, once a figure of authority and fear, had been reduced to a trembling mess under Varron's stern confrontation.
As the noble disappeared into the crowd, Varron's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he turned away.
"Let's go, Melissa," he said, his voice calm. He was ready to leave the scene behind and continue their walk through the streets.
But before they could take a step, a voice stopped them.
"Please wait, Lord Varron!" It was the mother from earlier, her eyes filled with gratitude. The crowd parted to let her through, her daughter clinging to her side.
Varron turned to face her, his gaze softening slightly. At the same time,the commoners watched in silence, their eyes filled with respect and gratitude. They had been mere spectators to the noble's cruel tirade, but Varron had stepped in, standing up for them when no one else would.
The mother bowed deeply, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Thank you, Lord Varron. We... we are forever in your debt."
Varron regarded the grateful mother and her daughter, his expression unreadable.
"Do not misunderstand," he said, his voice as cold as ever.
"I was not helping you. That trash... he was irritating me."
His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of his cold demeanor.
But his actions had spoken louder than his words. He had stepped in when no one else would, standing up to the noble and protecting the commoners.
The mother blinked, taken aback by his words. But she quickly nodded, understanding his intentions.
"Regardless of your reasons, Lord Varron, we are grateful."
".....Say whatever you want," Varron said, his voice dismissive as he turned to leave. But just as he took a step, he felt a sudden rush of wind behind him. His instincts kicked in, and he swiftly dodged to the side.
An attack. Someone had tried to attack him from behind.
The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with shock as they looked at the attacker. It was a woman, her eyes filled with a fierce determination. Her attack had missed its mark, but she didn't seem fazed. She stood tall, her gaze fixed on Varron.
"It was her," Varron muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the woman.However this doesn't bother him as he already expected her to be here but.
"Do you even know what you're doing,Commoner?"