"Quiet, class," her voice was smooth like velvet, but it carried a terrifying weight.
She snapped her fingers.
BOOM.
An invisible wave of Gravity Magic exploded upwards.
"!!!"
Lysander didn't even have time to react. The gravity around his tree branch increased by 50 times in a split second. The massive silver branch he was standing on snapped like a toothpick.
CRASH!
Lysander fell from the canopy, slamming into the ground hard. He rolled instantly, pulling out his Twin-Star Revolvers, landing in a crouch.
The students screamed, drawing their swords and wands in panic. "Ambush!
Monster!"
"Calm down," Isabella ordered, silencing them instantly.
She turned around slowly. Her heels clicked on the stone as she walked toward the dust cloud where Lysander had landed. Her massive chest bounced slightly with the movement, and her hips swayed with an arrogant, powerful rhythm.
She stopped ten feet away from him.
She looked at the figure wrapped in shadow and the metal mask. She didn't look afraid.
She looked... amused.
"I teach my students to check their surroundings," Isabella said, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "But it seems we have a little rat spying on us from the ceiling"
She pointed her riding crop at Lysander's face.
"Who are you? Remove the mask, or I will crush your bones into dust right now"
The dust from the impact settled slowly, revealing Lysander standing in a relaxed crouch. He stood up, dusting off the shoulder of his Void-Weave Hoodie as if he had just tripped over a rock, rather than being crushed by high-tier magic.
Isabella Thorne narrowed her eyes. Her aura—a heavy, purple pressure that made the air vibrate—was washing over the clearing. Usually, adventurers of this level would be on their knees, vomiting from the sheer density of her mana.
But Lysander just stood there. He holstered his guns, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I asked you a question," Isabella said, her voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously soft. She took a step forward, her heels sinking slightly into the dirt, her massive chest heaving with irritation. "Who are you? And why were you spying on my class?"
Lysander tilted his masked head to the side. The black glass visor stared right back at her, unblinking and unbothered.
"Why do you need to know?"
His robotic voice scratched through the silence, sounding bored.
"I was just passing through. Last I checked, the Stratified Domain is open territory"
He gestured vaguely to the trees around them.
"Or did the Academy buy the entire forest while I wasn't looking? Does this dirt belong to you?"
The clearing went dead silent. The students gasped. No one spoke to Professor Thorne like that.
Isabella's eyes widened behind her rimless glasses. Her mouth opened slightly in genuine shock.
'He... he's talking back?' she thought, her mind racing. 'I hit him with 50x Gravity. I'm projecting enough killing intent to paralyze a Wyvern. And he's... he's making jokes?'
She scanned him again. He had no visible rank badge. His gear was strange—a mix of high-tech and magical shadow weave. But what shocked her most was his posture.
There was no trembling. No sweat. No fear.
'Who is this man?' Isabella wondered, a flicker of curiosity replacing her anger. 'Is he a high-ranking assassin? A mercenary? He isn't affected by my power at all.'
For the first time in years, the "Gravity Queen" felt a hesitation. She griped her riding crop tighter.
"You have a sharp tongue for a rat," she murmured, her gaze calculating. "Let's see if your skill matches your—"
"HEY!"
Before Isabella could finish, a shout rang out from the group of students.
A young man stepped forward, marching past his classmates. He was tall, handsome in a generic way, with slicked-back blonde hair and a uniform that looked more expensive than the others. His family crest—a Golden Lion—was embroidered on his cape.
He drew a shiny, jewel-encrusted sword and pointed it at Lysander with a sneer.
"You filth!" the student shouted, his face twisted in an arrogant grimace. "Do you have a death wish? How dare you speak to Professor Thorne with that tone!"
Isabella frowned, glancing at the student. "Julian, stay back. I didn't order you to—"
"I'll handle this, Professor!" Julian interrupted, eager to show off. He wanted to impress the beautiful teacher and prove his dominance to the rest of the class.
He walked up to Lysander, stopping just a few feet away. He looked Lysander up and down, sneering at the dark, rugged armor.
"Do you know who you are standing before?" Julian spat, puffing out his chest.
"She is a Rank-A mage! And I am Julian Valerius, heir to the Valerius Dukedom!"
He laughed, a mocking, grating sound.
"You think you're tough because you wear a mask? You're just a stray dog wandering in the woods"
Julian channeled mana into his sword, making it glow with a weak blue light.
"Apologize right now," Julian threatened, smirking. "Or I will strip that mask off your face and make you beg. That arrogance of yours? I'll beat it out of you in five minutes."
Lysander didn't move. He just looked at the boy's trembling sword hand, then at his exposed neck.
"Five minutes?" Lysander's metallic voice echoed.
He took one step forward. The shadows around him seemed to darken, swallowing the light from Julian's sword.
"Kid, if I wanted to, you wouldn't even last five seconds"
The clearing was silent, save for the faint hum of Julian's magical sword. The young noble stood there, grinning, waiting for the masked man to beg for mercy. He expected fear. He expected an apology.
Instead, a low, metallic chuckle echoed from behind the Iron-Wraith Mask.
"Heh..."
Lysander took a slow step forward, ignoring the sword pointed at his chest.
He tilted his head, looking past Julian to Professor Isabella, then back to the boy.
"You are acting very brave for a puppy on a leash. You're hopping around, barking, puffing out your chest... all because you think that woman behind you will save you if things go wrong"
Julian's smile faltered. "Shut up! My family is—"
"Your family?" Lysander cut him off, his voice dripping with absolute disdain.
"Valerius? Never heard of it."
He leaned in, the black glass of his mask inches from Julian's sweating face.
"I don't give a fuck about your family. I don't give a fuck about you. In this forest, your last name doesn't mean anything. Here, the only law is power"
Julian's face turned red with rage. "You peasant! I'll kill y—"
"Sit down"
[Skill activated: Demon god's aura (RESTRICTED)]
Lysander didn't draw a weapon. He didn't cast a spell. He simply released the safety latch on his soul.
BOOOM.
It wasn't a sound; it was a feeling.
A wave of pure, concentrated Killing Intent exploded from Lysander's body. It wasn't the heavy, crushing gravity that Isabella used. This was different. This was Primal Fear.
The air in the clearing turned ice cold instantly. The magical lights floating around the camp flickered and died, plunging them into shadows.
Behind Lysander, the darkness seemed to writhe and take the shape of a massive, demonic entity with glowing purple eyes, staring down at the terrified student.
Julian froze mid-swing.
His eyes went wide, his pupils dilating until they were pinpricks. His breath caught in his throat.
To Julian, the man in the hoodie was no longer a human. He looked like a towering mountain of corpses. He felt the sensation of a cold blade resting against his throat. He smelled blood. He saw his own death playing out a thousand times in a single second.
"I said, sit down," Lysander whispered.
CLANG.
The jewel-encrusted sword slipped from Julian's numb fingers and hit the stone.
"Ah... ah..." Julian gasped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
His legs, which had been standing so proudly a moment ago, turned to jelly.
THUD.
The heir to the Valerius Dukedom collapsed. He fell to his knees, then face-planted into the dirt, trembling violently. He couldn't move. His body refused to obey him. His instincts were screaming one thing: DO NOT MOVE OR HE WILL EAT YOU.
A dark stain began to spread across the front of Julian's expensive white trousers.
He had wet himself.
The other twenty students were frozen in place, their faces pale. They couldn't breathe. The aura was focused on Julian, but the residual pressure was enough to make them feel like rabbits standing before a wolf.
Lysander stood over the shivering boy, looking down with total indifference.
"Five minutes?" Lysander mocked, his voice echoing in the dead silence. "You didn't even last five seconds"
He looked up, meeting the gaze of Professor Isabella Thorne.
The Rank-A Mage was no longer looking at him with amusement. Her face was serious. Her hands were clenched into fists, and a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. She recognized that aura. It wasn't just mana; it was the aura of someone who had slaughtered thousands.
Lysander turned his back on the sobbing Julian.
"Keep your trash on a leash, Professor," Lysander said, turning to walk away into the darkness. "Next time, I won't use just my aura."