Alaric walked back to the main room as he wanted to check who his latest visitor was.
Knock. Knock.
There it was again.
It wasn't polite knocking. It was the kind that said get out.
With a sigh, he turned the knob and opened it halfway, greeted by the sight of six boys clustered around the entrance like oversized pigeons, loud, puffed up, and acting like the hallway was their perch.
"Problem?" Alaric asked simply, his eyes flicking from one pampered face to another.
"The tallest one stepped forward, chest puffed, sneering. "Yeah. You're in Jason Blake's room. We were just about to claim it before you snuck in."
Alaric's gaze drifted to the back, landing on Jason—a sharp-featured boy leaning casually against the wall, looking like he'd rather be doing literally anything else.
'This guy? I'm technically a more important noble than that monkey. But sure, let's pretend hierarchy matters when you've got better cheekbones.'
Alaric leaned lazily against the doorframe, unfazed. "So... not claimed yet. Got it."
The tall boy's smile twitched into a scowl. "We were here first. Just went downstairs to sort something out. I'd suggest you move along before this gets messy."
'Ah, it's coming.'
He glanced around the hallway, then looked back with mock understanding.
"Let me get this straight. You almost opened the door, nearly put your bags inside, and were just about to own it... but I committed the unforgivable sin of actually being here. Is that it?"
The boy blinked, caught mid-threat and out of arguments.
Alaric continued, gesturing down the hallway. "Three more rooms down there. First come, first served. That's how this works—unless one of you got crowned king when I wasn't looking?"
More boys were starting to gather, sensing a show. Faces peeked from doorways, and a few students leaned in to catch every word.
Finally, Jason stepped forward, his voice cool and measured.
"Luther, right?" he asked.
Alaric's gaze snapped to him. The playfulness drained from his eyes, replaced by a stillness that unsettled even the growing crowd.
Jason smiled like a man offering peace while loading a gun. "Let's not turn this into something messy. I'd hate for things to get... complicated."
Alaric didn't blink. "Then don't."
Jason's brow twitched, but his smile held.
"You see, the issue is, I've already decided this room belongs to me. But since I'm feeling generous, you can still take one of the three other vacant rooms down the hall. Wouldn't that be fair?"
Fair? How was any of this fair?
Alaric didn't need a second to see through the act. Jason wasn't here to be "fair"
This wasn't about the room. It never was. Jason saw an opportunity: a loner noble, no allies, no noise. Must be an easy target.
But what he failed to realize was that Alaric wasn't quiet because he was weak.
He was quiet because it was less messy that way.
Alaric stood silently. He was already weighing his options… and frankly, none of them included talking this out.
'No spells, no weapons, and the academy won't intervene,' he reminded himself, flicking his eyes up toward the ceiling. 'They were watching, no doubt about that. Probably betting on who'd throw the first punch.'
What a lovely school this was.
He turned back to the group, letting out a sigh. "You're not even good at this. Trying to intimidate someone with numbers and borrowed names? That's just lazy."
One of the boys stepped up, shoulders tensing, veins popping like he'd been lifting dumbbells all day for this one scene. "You think you're better than us? You think—"
Alaric was already closing the door.
But a hand caught his shoulder.
"Hey, don't you walk awa—"
The sentence didn't survive impact.
Alaric's fist sank into the boy's stomach like it belonged there. The sound he made was somewhere between a cough and a squeak, and down he went with knees buckling, eyes wide, gasping for air.
Alaric didn't even blink as the boy curled on the floor in agony.
The others gawked. Then—
"What the fuck!?"
"What just happened?!"
Alaric scanned the group like he was picking which piece of trash to take out next, then landed on Jason.
"Take another step," he said, voice like ice, "and you're done."
Of course, that was the perfect cue for everyone to do exactly the opposite.
Because why not?
They roared and charged, buoyed by bravado and the collective delusion that numbers beat skill.
Chaos erupted.
Instead of a dogpile, it became a massacre—and Alaric wasn't the one on the ground.
One by one, they fell. Dull thuds. Choked cries. Bodies hit the floor in awkward angles, groaning or silent, eyes wide in disbelief.
The gathered crowd stood frozen. They'd expected drama, maybe a scrap. Not this. Not one boy taking down an entire group like a ghost slipping through amateurs.
The violence. The elegance. The sheer audacity!
It wasn't just a fight.
It was art in blood.
By now, Alaric was on his fourth target, calmly rearranging the poor boy's face with knuckles and spite. Blood streamed from the kid's broken nose and mashed lips. A tooth or two bounced across the floor like forgotten marbles.
Nearby, Jason stood frozen. His face had drained of all color, and the boy beside him was shaking so hard you'd think his bones were trying to escape.
What they were looking at wasn't human at all.
Fear rooted them in place, their earlier arrogance evaporating like mist under the noon sun.
Alaric released his latest victim, who slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Then he turned to the remaining two, and that single glance was enough to suck the fight out of anyone.
The smaller boy cracked first. His eyes moved between the bodies and the blood… and the monster staring them down. Then he turned to flee—but tripped on absolutely nothing and hit the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.
He scrambled backward to face Alaric, unable to hide the terror on his face as his shaking hands began to glow faintly with Ether.
"G-get away!" the boy shouted, voice breaking with desperation as the Ether in his hands crackled, preparing to release a spell.
Alaric's expression darkened, while a cruel smile stretched across his face. Blood smeared his pale skin, giving him an almost nightmarish appearance.
"You're really trying to cast a spell?" he asked, cocking his head. "You do remember there's a strict no-spell policy in the dorms, right?"
The boy froze, the implication slamming into him harder than any punch, so he hesitated.
Big mistake!
Alaric rushed him.
With one swift step, he kicked the boy's temple with so much force his head flew a couple feet before collapsing. Lights out.
The Ether sputtered and died as he crumpled, twitching once before going still.
And then, only Jason remained.
He looked like he was staring down the reaper himself.
Alaric took a step.
Then another.
Jason stammered, "D-don't come any closer."
But Alaric didn't stop.
"Please…"
His smile had vanished, replaced with something colder. And as their eyes met, whatever was left of the boy's courage fled.
There was nothing in those eyes. No rage or cruelty.
Just emptiness.
The kind of emptiness that screamed run, even when your legs refused to listen.
Alaric stopped just inches from him, leaning in until Jason could feel the heat of his breath.
"Let this be a lesson," he said, voice low and slow. "If you ever so much as irritate me again… well—"
Jason's body betrayed him.
Warmth spread down his legs. A dark stain bloomed across his trousers. He didn't even register the smell.
He actually believed he'd die right there.
But Alaric straightened, stared a moment longer, then turned around and calmly shut the door behind him.
And Jason?
He remained right there in the hallway, soaked, shaking, and utterly broken.
The rest of the crowd were tongue tied, they didn't know whether to pity him… or pray they never ended up on that boy's bad side.