In a secluded area surrounded by several large trees, a group of burly men dressed as servants were laughing loudly under a big tree. They seemed to be engaged in something quite amusing.
"Hold him down! Since he dared to ruin my mood! Disgusting peasants deserve to die! Hang them up and beat them!"
Among the muscular men, a curly-haired young man, dressed in more expensive clothing than the others, was giving orders to his vicious-looking underlings.
A thin old man and a disheveled girl were lying on the grass, beaten by the group. The elderly man was struggling with all his might, speaking in slurred words, clearly angry but unable to express himself properly. His speech was hard to understand, but one could hear the curses in his mutterings.
The girl, on the other hand, was crying silently. Her face was mostly covered by her messy hair, and only her sobs could be heard clearly.
Seeing that the nobles' lackeys were tying up the girl, the old man resisted even more frantically. One of the men holding him down was accidentally knocked in the stomach, causing him to cry out in pain.
"You damn bastard!" The man who was hit snarled, grinding his teeth as he began to punch and kick the old man.
At that moment, a loud shout rang out, startling everyone.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Everyone froze in place, their actions coming to a halt as they turned their heads to locate the source of the voice.
The curly-haired young man, after being startled, scowled and angrily yelled, "Who the hell is that?! Show yourself, you bastard!"
"Try cursing again!" Glen's voice came from above, drawing the attention of several flustered men who looked up at the sound.
The young man, seeing an older, larger man standing on a tree trunk above, didn't back down. Instead, he cursed louder.
"You lowly bastard! Get the hell out of here! This is none of your business! Filthy beggar who only begs outside!"
Rather than getting angry at the insult, Glen let out a cold laugh. "If you're going to talk like that, I guess I'll have to come down and have a nice chat with you."
With that, he leapt down from the tree and landed right in front of the curly-haired youth, looking down at him.
The young man stared up at Glen, still defiant. "You want to fight me? Trash! Do you know who my father is? You…"
Before he could finish his sentence, a sharp slap rang through the air, interrupting him.
The lackeys who had been watching with smug looks were now frozen, their faces blank, as they saw their young master, the noble Lavelle, get slapped hard by the plainly-dressed commoner. The slap sent him spinning around and crashing to the ground.
For a moment, the air stood still as no one could process what had just happened. The old man and the girl on the ground were still in shock.
This commoner, who clearly looked like nothing more than a peasant, had dared to slap the young noble, Lord Lavelle?! The henchmen thought in unison.
The eerie silence persisted until Lavelle, trembling, pushed himself off the ground.
He wiped his mouth, and a bright red stain appeared on his hand. His eyes were filled with disbelief, his lips trembling as tears began to fall.
"Kill him! Kill him now!" Lavelle screamed with a heart-wrenching cry, snapping the stunned henchmen out of their stupor.
Only then did they realize—The young master was struck!
They knew what this meant. If they didn't do something fast, the consequences would be severe. The lord favored Lavelle greatly, and after such an incident, they would be in serious trouble!
Without hesitation, the group of burly men yelled furiously and charged at Glen, determined to drag him away and punish him.
Glen, however, didn't hesitate. He was more than willing to teach these guys a lesson.
Within minutes, the ground was filled with moans and cries of pain as several of the lackeys were thrown to the ground, clutching their injured bodies and howling in agony.
"You... you! You're finished! I'll tell my father! I'll tell my mother!" Lavelle cried, his face contorted with fury as he turned and fled, abandoning his fallen underlings.
"Remember my name!" Glen called after him. "I'm Glen Nibankru! I live in Bayek Town!"
As Lavelle fled, he turned back, his swollen, tear-streaked face twisted with anger as he glared at Glen, clearly trying to commit his name to memory.
Glen glanced at the old man and the girl on the ground, then was about to jump over the surrounding wall when the old man, bruised and battered, struggled to get up and stumbled toward the girl, calling out to Glen.
"Wait... wait!"
Glen turned around, puzzled.
"You've offended the nobility. They'll... they'll retaliate against you. Leave now! Leave this town... the farther, the better!" The old man spoke with difficulty, urging him to leave.
Glen smiled and sized the man up again, but instead of answering him, he pointed at the girl and asked, "Is this your daughter?"
The old man was momentarily stunned, then nodded foolishly. "Yes, this is my daughter, Marsha."
"You're a good father," Glen complimented.
However, the old man seemed even more anxious and pleaded, "Kind sir, now is not the time for this! You must run, quickly!"
Glen waved his hand nonchalantly. "It's fine. He's just a noble. I can handle it. You don't need to worry about me."
"Really?" The old man stammered.
"Of course," Glen answered confidently.
Glen had no doubt about his ability. He was strong, and he had dealt with nobles in his past life, understanding their nature and the power they could wield.
The old man seemed to believe him and stopped speaking.
"Why did they attack you?" Glen asked curiously.
The old man gave a bitter smile. "Well, nobles don't need a reason to beat commoners. I came to send my daughter to school, and just by being in their sight, I ruined their mood. So, naturally, they beat us."
Yep, that's the kind of noble I know... Glen thought with disdain.
"Do you know Layla?" Glen suddenly asked the girl.
Since they were from the same school, he figured she might know her.
"Huh?" The girl, still tearful, looked up, and after a moment, she sniffled. "I know her, but she doesn't know me. She's very famous at our school. She's the crush of many boys."
"I see..." Glen murmured, thinking. "Have you seen her recently?"
"Yes," the girl nodded. "Are you her friend?"
"Sort of. Just passing by to check on her," Glen replied.
The girl didn't seem surprised and, still sniffling, asked, "Do you want me to go get her?"
"No need. Just be careful around that curly-haired teddy bear. I'll be going now." Glen warned, then jumped over the wall and disappeared.
"Curly-haired teddy bear?" The old man's mouth hung open, while the girl let out a sudden laugh despite herself, wiping away her tears.
At the academy gates, Lavelle was gripping a middle-aged man in black uniform by the collar, shouting furiously:
"Get me a carriage! NOW! Or my father will make you pay dearly!"
"But... young master, there are academy rules. I can't leave at this time..." The middle-aged man meekly stammered, clearly cowed by the 16- or 17-year-old noble.
"Useless! I NEED A CARRIAGE! Didn't you hear me?! I'm going home!" Lavelle's face twisted in a snarl, his spit landing on the man's face.