"Should I have given you a hand to help you up?"
Brody stood up immediately, his gaze flickered toward the gathered crowd before locking onto Seven with rage.
"You…!!"
Slowly, a faint aura started to radiate out from Lythian's body.
Seven didn't even flinch. Instead, his gaze drifted to the expensive-looking sword hanging loosely at Brody's waist.
"I… I'll send you to hell!"
'Cringe.'
Seven scratched the back of his head. It always seemed cool in novels, mangas, and anime, but hearing someone actually scream— I'll send you to hell —in real life.
No.
It just sounded embarrassing
"Fudge. You talk a lot…"
Still scratching his head, he lazily raised his free hand and made a taunting gesture.
"You sure run your mouth."
"B— Bastard…"
The sharp scrape of metal rang out as Brody unsheathed his sword.
Seven's eyes locked onto him.
'So that thing isn't just for decoration, huh?'
His eyes lit up gold.
Step.
Seven took a slow step forward. In response, Brody raised his sword defensively, caught off guard by the sudden change of Seven's left-eye.
Seven's fingers clenched into a fist.
'I've only been training for a season.'
'Lythian's assassination attempt, and sparring with Eden's.'
'Aside from mimicking what I read in the novel, those were my only battle experiences.'
Seven frowned.
"I'm not confident.'
But then, he smiled.
After all, he had an artifact to help him.
Barely narrowing his left-eye, he could see the possible trajectory of the next actions Brody would make.
He dashed forward.
'I'm not confident of losing.'
Slash.
Brody swung his sword in a wide arc, but Seven tilted his head and ducked effortlessly as he could see the trajectory.
'Even with mana enhancing his swings, he's still the same.'
Brody stepped back, then swung downward with force. Seven sidestepped with ease, watching as the blade slammed into the ground, kicking up dust.
'Does he even know who he's trying to cut with that sloppy technique?'
Even without his artifact's guidance, Seven could read his every move.
His personality.
His swordplay.
Unlike the other characters who had changed, he remained the same.
'Exactly the same as the novel.'
Seven scoffed.
'What a joke.'
Brody leaped backward again, his foot crushing a few fallen apples.
But Seven caught his collar.
'Should I just throw him?'
For a second, it seemed like he would do another over-the-shoulder throw, but he didn't.
"No."
Brody's eyes widened. This wasn't the same Seven he mocked in the past—the one who kneeled before him in every duel they did.
This wasn't the same Seven he saw at the Dukedom just a month ago.
And as far as he knew, Harts didn't have the power to change their eye color into gold.
"Uaahh…!"
Seven grabbed his wrist.
Tight.
The sword clattered on the ground.
"You need a lesson in mental fortitude."
"—!!"
Aura flared between them.
Unlike him, Brody was at the peak of the First Gate, but Seven could already tell—his aura flow was a mess.
First Gate swordsmen were supposed to circulate their aura like blood from their soles, strengthening every part of their body.
Their limbs.
Their hearts.
Their heads.
But Brody didn't.
That's why his swordplay was all flash and no substance. That's why his mind crumbled the moment he lost control.
Seven grinned.
'Ehe.'
With his free hand, he grabbed Brody's face, fingers digging into his skin. Brody thrashed, trying to break free, but it was already too late.
"Flow…"
Aura surged from Seven's palm, creeping into Brody's head through his nostrils, ears, mouth, and eyes.
It was a technique from the Archduke's teachings—normally used to scan an area like threads of yarn.
But Seven had repurposed it
Slowly, blood trickled from Brody's nose. His body convulsed.
Brody's guards in the distance stiffened, hands gripping their swords. But then, before he could act—
"Stop."
Lythian said, as he stood behind one of the guards as his dagger glinted against a guard's throat.
There were three of them in total. With one hostage, the remaining two hesitated as they weighed their options.
A single drop of blood slid down the hostage's neck.
"Don't move. Or you'll be losing your necks."
The guards flinched.
They weren't actual guards, but just mercenaries hired by the Michigan family—barely reached the brown colored tattoo bracelet.
Probably fresh dropouts from the academy, desperate for money to re-enroll.
"P-Please… Don't move."
The hostage said, and the two wavered before they finally lowered their swords.
"Good."
Lythian smirked.
"Then let's enjoy the show."
Their eyes turned back to Seven.
Brody's body twitched. His breath came out in shallow gasps before his shoulders slumped.
Unconscious.
Seven loosened his grip, letting Brody's face fall forward.
Then he grabbed him by the hair.
Drag.
Brody's limp body scraped against the stone pavement as Seven pulled him toward the old woman to apologize.
"Lose some weight."
Drag.
Yet all of a sudden, Seven's gaze flickered to a wooden bucket filled with freshly gathered apples.
'Perfect.'
He yanked Brody's head up.
'You must be hungry.'
SLAM!!
He drove Brody's face into the bucket.
Juices splattered everywhere, mixing with the blood on Brody's face. The apples burst under the force.
'Ehe.'
Satisfied. Seven was satisfied.
Brody Michigan.
Truth be told, he wasn't the most hated character just because he was a bastard and a typical arrogant low-ranking noble.
But because he was the reason for every major inconvenience in the first act.
Sabotaged the coronation of the Sovereign.
Involved in villain conspiracies.
Betrayed almost every division he was sent into.
Selling illegal pills.
Private lessons after class…
…Though he just beat them up and did not teach them a single thing.
And worst of all, he killed—
Sigh.
Seven exhaled.
He could list Brody's sins for hours.
Beneath him, Brody twitched. His fingers clenched weakly at the ground. He coughed, hiccupping, finally regaining consciousness.
"S-Spare…"
Tears welled in his bloodshot eyes. He couldn't turn his head asSeven's grip in his hair was too tight. But his eyes shifted, desperately seeking mercy.
"…P-Please…"
Seven crouched down.
The sight was familiar.
'The look of someone consumed by the fear of death.'
There were so many scenes like this in the novel. Countless characters, countless pleas, countless regrets—always too late.
"Spare you? Think carefully about the things you've done—"
Seven paused, then laughed softly.
"Oh, right. You haven't done them yet."
Seven tightened his grip.
"How do I stop it from happening, I wonder?"
Again, the same thought surfaced in his mind. The same thing he did to Lythian.
Fear.
Brody needed to fear him.
Seven leaned in, whispering next to Brody's ear.
"If I do this, you'll understand what 'fear' really means, won't you?"
Seven raised his fist.
Aura crackled around his knuckles, as he had enough control over it now.
"Right?"
"I—I was wrong!! Stop!!! Please!!!"
But Seven didn't stop.
Or at least, not until Lythian stepped forward.
"Stop it."
For a split second, Seven turned and stared at them with a little hint of rage for stopping his moment.
But then, his gaze flickered past Lythian, toward the knights patrolling.
"Tch."
A nuisance.
"What's going on here?"
One of the knights asked, scanning the crowd.
No one answered.
Their eyes shifted between Seven, Brody, and the crushed apples on the ground.
The knight's gaze landed on Seven.
"He—"
"This boy saved me."
The old woman stepped forward, her finger trembling as she pointed at Brody's sprawled body.
"This one tried to harm me!"
The knight frowned, looking down at Brody. His expensive, blood-stained clothes. The fine sword lying just inches from his limp hand.
Everything fits the picture.
The knights nodded.
"Leave this to us."
Thud.
A small purse landed on the ground.
Seven dropped it.
It was his share—the half Lythian gave him earlier from their spoils in the ruins. Aside from the ten Sevtals in his wallet, it was all he had.
But… he had crushed the woman's apples while dealing with Brody.
This was compensation.
"Ma'am, you dropped your purse."
Seven turned on his heel.
"Let's go."
He walked away without another glance. Lythian, lingering for a moment, noticed something.
The mercenaries were gone.
They ran away.
He let out a quiet chuckle.
Then, without another word, he followed Seven.
"Let's go."