The Golem Mage

714: Military Rules Differently.

714: Military Rules Differently.

The battle against the Demonkin was growing increasingly intense, and the evacuation lines were moving at a painstakingly slow pace.

Among those unhappy with the process were the high ranking nobles, mages from powerful High Tier clans, and influential figures who controlled some of the largest merchant companies in the Northern Kingdom.

Fearful that the battle might spill into their area if they didn’t leave soon, these individuals, driven by cowardice and a sense of entitlement, began disregarding orders.

As they shoved their way to the front, exploiting their positions to secure a faster exit, their actions caused chaos, delaying the evacuation process further and sparking internal disputes among the crowd.

In one of the exit lines controlled by the War God Academy team, where order was still taking root, a particularly arrogant individual decided it was his turn to assert dominance, like he saw in the other lines.

Puffing out his chest and shouting at the top of his lungs, the portly man began pushing through the crowd, his voice booming with entitlement.

“Move aside!

Don’t you know who I am?

I am Tudor, a royal born!

I demand exclusive rights to be escorted out first!

Out of my way!”

His two guards, towering Tier 5 mages, trailed behind him, creating an intimidating presence that cowed many of the evacuees.

Those shoved aside were visibly upset, some even sustaining minor injuries, but when they realized who was responsible, most simply swallowed their anger, bowed their heads, and let him pass.

After all, the man was a member of the Tudor clan, a royal bloodline.

Though he was neither impressive nor talented as a mage, but his lineage afforded him privileges that even the boldest commoners dared not challenge.

This particular Tudor clansman had long been known for his spiteful behaviour, lacking the magical prowess or influence of his more accomplished kin, he had been condemned to a life of mediocrity, serving as little more than a tool to preserve and continue the family bloodline.

Resentful of his circumstances, he often took out his frustrations on the powerless, bullying commoners to inflate his wounded pride.

This behaviour had earned the fat nobleman a notorious reputation, as well as a mocking nickname whispered behind his back.

But still yet nobody wanted to risk the trouble of crossing him, which explained why the crowd reluctantly gave way to his antics.

However, just because the evacuees tolerated his actions didn’t mean the War God Academy team, tasked with managing this line, would stand for such blatant disruption, especially not after Alec’s strict instructions to maintain order.

As the nobleman reached the front, shoving the last person in his way aside, he found Agnes blocking the exit.

She stood tall with her staff in hand, her full set of spirit equipment gleaming faintly, while her equipment wasn’t as advanced as Alec’s or Lucas’s, it still significantly enhanced her power and lent her an aura of authority which most mages didn’t have.

The fat nobleman skidded to a halt, taken aback by Agnes’s firm stance, she didn’t flinch as she looked him squarely in the eye, her voice sharp and unyielding.

“You’ve disrupted the lines, endangered countless citizens, and blatantly ignored the system we’ve put in place, and now, you think you can bypass us like we’re invisible?

Here’s the punishment: you’ll head straight to the back of the line and wait your turn, patiently just like everyone else.”

Agnes delivered the words with the precision of a blade, repeating Alec’s exact instructions.

Her piercing gaze locked on the nobleman and his guards, leaving no room for negotiation.

The nobleman, momentarily entranced by Agnes’s beauty, was snapped back to reality at her commanding tone.

His face turned red with fury as he bellowed, his voice echoing across the hall.

“Who the hell do you think you are to stop me?

Me!

A Tudor!

My safety should be your top priority, not lecturing me!

Do you have any idea who you’re about to offend?!”

His tirade was abruptly punctuated by the metallic ring of a sword being drawn, one of his bodyguard mages stepped forward and swung his blade, resting its edge dangerously close to Agnes’s neck.

Agnes’s eyes narrowed in fury, her gaze snapping to the guard who smirked smugly at her, clearly enjoying the tension he was causing.

Her grip on her staff tightened, her anger simmering beneath her calm exterior as the situation escalated.

“You have eyes but cannot see!

Trying to stop royalty from passing by?

It seems you’re eager for an early death,” the guard sneered, his voice laced with arrogance as he unleashed the oppressive aura of a Peak Tier 5 Mage, the air around him grew heavy as he projected his power, his intent were clear as day as he was trying to force Agnes into submission since his cultivation realm was higher than hers.

The War God Academy team stationed nearby on the ground and controlling the lines all exchanged uneasy glances.

Alec had been explicit in his orders: all Mid-rank mages were to join the fight and support the evacuation, yet here stood a Mid Tier Mage, not aiding the battle but instead escorting a cowardly nobleman to the exit, a display of selfishness that disgusted them.

Agnes clenched her fists, her frustration mounting as she watched the smirking nobleman revel in her apparent helplessness.

The sight of him, so complacent in his privilege, made her grind her teeth in anger, she longed for Alec’s presence, confident he would swiftly put these arrogant fools in their place.

Just as the tension reached its peak, a faint crackling sound echoed through the air.

Agnes’s sharp eyes caught sight of a dark blue bolt of lightning streaking toward them at astonishing speed.

Sizzle!

The lightning passed the guard like a phantom, halting abruptly beside Agnes, from the crackling energy emerged Butcher, one of Alec’s battle golem, its hulking form materializing as arcs of electricity danced across its metallic surface.

A single second passed, and then, thud!

The guard’s left arm fell to the ground, cleanly severed.

“Ahhh!

You dare injure me?!” the guard screamed, clutching his bleeding stump as pain overwhelmed him.

His eyes were wide with disbelief, his earlier confidence shattered, Tempest Butcher stood unmoved, gripping its blood streaked battle axe in one hand, its imposing presence a stark contrast to the chaos around it.

The nobleman’s face paled, his earlier bravado evaporating as he realized the gravity of the situation.

The guard he had relied on so heavily had been neutralized in an instant, and now, standing before him was not just a golem, but a relentless force of destruction, its body coursing with electricity like a ticking storm ready to erupt.

For the first time, the nobleman understood, things were not under his control.