Rise Of The Lesser-Blood

[ CRITICAL SYSTEM ALERT: TARGET APPROXIMATION ]

* Vector: Rear Alley Quadrant / 12 Meters and Closing

* Threat Signature: Grade S / Active Core Density Detected

* System Directive: Reposition immediately to evade oncoming trajectory.

Thomas stood perfectly still in the shadow of the damp stone wall, his calloused fingers clenched into hard, rigid fists as the blue text of the system interface flashed directly beneath his eyes. He didn’t waste a single second processing the sudden abduction. The warning was clear and absolute. He violently turned to duck his upper torso sideways, his muscles reacting a fraction of a second before a heavy, invisible distortion of kinetic pressure whistled directly through the empty air where his skull had been a millisecond prior.

The sand and dust along the pavement cracked under the sudden, dense atmospheric shift.

Thomas reset his stance, his face returning to its smooth, unreadable calm as he looked up. Walking out from the dense crowd of the marketplace entrance was Julian. He was wearing his customized gold silver trimmed jacket, his striking ebony eyes entirely bare as he looked down his nose at the lesser blood freshman. His presence alone caused the air pressure in the narrow alleyway to instantly plummet.

”Why are you moping around in a dark alleyway, lesser?” Julian asked, his cold, elegant voice carrying an icy, aristocratic authority that cleanly sliced through the distant noise of the vendors. He adjusted his posture, stepping closer with a slow, measured stride. ”You are making yourself an incredibly easy target for all the high blood families that want to end your existence right now. The tournament results have turned your little display of strength into an absolute humiliation for us High-bloods.”

Julian paused, a faint, condescending smile playing at the edge of his lips. ”I am one of those people who wants to see you thoroughly erased from this board, Thomas. But I would never execute a strike in such a cowardly, unrefined manner. When I break your soul, it will be done on the open sand for the entire kingdom to witness.”

Thomas didn’t offer a theatrical flail or an aggressive posturing display. He merely looked directly into the High-blood’s bare face, his dark eyes carrying a chilling, razor-sharp focus.

”Piss off, Julian,” Thomas said flatly, his voice dripping with an absolute, unrefined grit.

Immediately, Julian’s ebony eyes narrowed into slits behind his unbothered mask, his sharp perception noting that something was fundamentally wrong with the lesser’s usual quiet compliance. The raw, suffocating aura surrounding the Grade S prodigy didn’t spike in anger; instead, it grew intensely quiet and calculating. Julian’s gaze drifted down from Thomas’s face, meticulously scanning the stone floor of the alley.

He noticed the scattered, broken bundles of dried rations and the torn ribbons of linen travel fabric clattering against the wet pavement. He also noted the items Thomas was still tightly clutching in his right hand, several small, embroidered leather pouches that clearly belonged to a female student.

”Where is your companion?” Julian asked, his voice dropping into a serious, cold weight that made the stone walls hum.

Thomas looked straight back at him, a dangerous, bitter smirk finally breaking through his smooth farm boy mask. ”As if you don’t know where she is, you High-blood prick. Your little circle didn’t even wait for the carriage lines to leave the outer rings before deploying their vipers. I bet you are here to gloat.”

Julian’s posture instantly went perfectly rigid, his face turning into a hard mask of absolute, unadulterated offence. As a premier product of a sovereign lineage, his pride refused to accept the implication that he would rely on standard, lower tier street abductions to fight a lesser. The air pressure in the narrow corridor violently spiked, small fractures spreading along the stone tiles beneath his boots as his raw mana output doubled.

”Where is she?” Julian demanded in a deeply pissed off voice, his ebony eyes flashing with a dangerous, volatile glare that gave the alleyway actual chills. ”Who took her?”

Thomas kept his stance steady against the heavy weight of the gravity well. ”It was five of our classmates. They told me to follow their tracks down to the lower subterranean grids tonight without alerting the academy instructors, or they will return her to the dorm block in pieces.”

Julian didn’t hesitate for a single second. The cold, aristocratic disgust on his face smoothed out into a terrifyingly precise finality.

”Darian Caligher,” Julian said cleanly.

Thomas kept his stance steady against the heavy weight of the gravity well, his dark eyes narrowing into slits as the name echoed off the damp stone walls. ”Who the hell is that?” Thomas asked, his flat voice carrying a firm, unrefined grit.

”He is a senior with a Grade A talent,” Julian explained, his face smoothing out into a terrifyingly calm expression as he slowly reached into his customized gold obsidian jacket. He took out his silver-rimmed glasses and calmly put them on, the glass instantly reflecting the dim morning light of the narrow corridor. ”He is currently in the second year. And although I possess a Grade S talent, the sheer amount of battlefield experience that senior has and the amount of time he has had to learn how to master his talent can play a massive difference if I were to face the man myself.”

Julian adjusted his collar, his bare eyes now hidden behind the lenses once more as his raw mana output smoothly withdrew back into his core.

”Darian had actually approached me first with his little plan,” Julian continued, his elegant voice dropping into a serious, calculated weight. ”But the original plan was for him to abduct the lesser with the blonde hair. They wanted him as their original target to force your hand, but seeing you out in the public marketplace with that girl today, they must have improvised their trajectory on the spot.”

Thomas quietly nodded his head, the scattered pieces of the puzzle connecting perfectly inside his mind. He never told Julian anything about his talent, keeping his mouth shut as he absorbed the critical information. ”I am grateful for the information, Julian,” Thomas said flatly, turning his heel toward the dark threshold of the exit gates to head out toward the lower subterranean grids.

Before his boots could even take a single step past the leather shops, Julian’s sharp voice cut through the quiet air.

”Do you even have a plan, lesser?” Julian asked, his posture perfectly rigid.

”No,” Thomas answered honestly, his farm-boy mask remaining completely hard and smooth as glass as he looked back over his shoulder. ”But all I know is that I have to get Mina back tonight, no matter what the absolute cost turns out to be.”

Julian looked straight back at him with a strange, complex expression that Thomas could not fully read behind the glare of his silver-rimmed glasses. The Grade S prodigy stood perfectly still for a long, grueling second before he spoke again. ”What is that girl to you, Thomas?”

”She is a dear friend,” Thomas answered cleanly, his voice completely devoid of hesitation.

”Is that all she is to you?” Julian asked, his ebony eyes burning with a piercing, analytical intensity.

Thomas simply nodded his head.”Good,” Julian said, his posture straightening as he took a step forward into the shadow of the alleyway. ”I will help you retrieve her then.”

Thomas paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at the high-born national treasure. ”You don’t have to do that, Julian. This isn’t your fight.”

Julian slowly shook his head, a cold, supreme indifference settling over his aristocratic features as he smoothed down his uniform cuffs. ”Despite me thoroughly hating your very existence, I have absolutely nothing against that girl. And I could never let a second-year failure like Darian tarnish the sacred honor of the High-bloods with his shameful and cowardly street tactics.”

He stepped out into the center of the wet pavement, his customized gold obsidian jacket catching the cold high-altitude wind as his voice dropped into an absolute, unyielding octave.

”A true High-blood does not act in such a cowardly manner,” Julian stated with an immense, ancient pride that brook no argument. ”Especially when dealing with a lesser. If we are to break you people, we will do it through absolute dominance, not through desperate traps.”