Chapter 287 Backer
Of course, Percy Brody ultimately received special approval from Dean Edmund to retain his degree. The vast majority of students at St. Bartholomew's School of Sorcerers were children of the nobility, so they naturally had their own connections. Soon, news of the return of Percy Brody, the head third-year student who had been missing for months, spread throughout the school.
The world has changed.
The peculiarity of St. Bartolomeo's School of Warlocks meant that it was destined to be an extremely complex small upper-class social circle. Before Percy Brody went to Port Morris, some forces were still waiting to see what attitude he would take towards the newly-minted young Lord Prayer - but now, the other party had returned alive from the hands of the People's Party that devoured the twelve Silver Helmets Knights, and his position had obviously changed slightly.
Second-year head teacher Kennett Shrike casually shook today's newspaper. Beside him, a delicate-looking boy was respectfully pushing a teacup to his hand.
"That little Bateman is a piece of shit." Master Shrike lazily and unscrupulously commented on his senior classmate. "It's been six months, and he still hasn't completely killed Brody. I almost wonder if they're fighting or just flirting."
The surrounding students lowered their heads as if they hadn't heard. Marquis Bateman's second son wasn't someone they could casually judge. His father and brother weren't to be trifled with. Only the son of Marquis Shrike would dare to speak ill of him so blatantly.
——After all, his father is the Supreme Minister of Military Affairs, and like Marquis Batman, he is the right-hand man of Duke Kamu.
The first-year student next to Master Shrike fawned foolishly, "How can little Batman compare to you, Master? He's just a coward who relies on his family's protection—"
“…”
Kennett Shrike slammed the newspaper shut, raised his eyes with a half-smile, and stared at the boy's delicate face until his face gradually turned pale and his lips trembled as he whispered, "Master, I..."
"Who do you think you are?" He asked slowly and softly, "The illegitimate son of a viscount, bleeding the blood of a whore, even I feel filthy when I say it. How dare someone like you compare yourself to my family and the Bateman family?"
There was a slightly innocent expression on his handsome face, as if he was genuinely curious about this, completely ignoring the fact that for another person, offending Young Master Shrike would be a complete disaster - just like the person who was hugging someone and calling him "my darling" yesterday was not him.
Seeing the man shaking with fear, tears streaming down his face, shivering for a long time but unable to utter a word, the Shrike made a tut-tut sound in extreme impatience and looked away as if he really couldn't stand it anymore.
——It’s so ugly.
The other students exchanged glances calmly - only three days, and the record was broken again. Young Master Shrike was going to have a new lover again.
"I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself." Shrike simply stuffed the newspaper he was reading into the boy's collar and patted his chest maliciously. "As long as you ask in front of little Bartman how Percy Brody escaped from the clutches of those slaves, I will not hold you accountable for your inappropriate remarks."
"Really?" the other party asked with sobs.
"Really, really! Who can't bear to see a beautiful woman cry?" Shrike said nonchalantly. The others glanced at the overjoyed boy with a hint of pity: Everyone in the school knew that Little Bartman's brother, Jolini Bartman, had also "escaped death from slavery." Little Bartman would not let go of this new student who dared to publicly offend the family. Besides, Master Shrike, who had had his fun, would definitely not start a fight with Bartman over a toy, especially since he seemed to be just a junior apostle.
Perhaps in the eyes of outsiders, such a young apostle warlock might be considered to have a promising future. However, at the Saint Bartolomeo Warlock Academy, one must either possess influence or strength. Otherwise, all those self-proclaimed geniuses would ultimately become fertile ground for the decay of the aristocratic families.
Percy Brody looked in bewilderment at the first-year student who had stopped him in the hallway. The first-year student seemed a little nervous, but continued to speak provocatively, trembling as if he had memorized the words by heart.
Percy, who had been nagging at him in a sarcastic tone by many professors for a whole day, said: "..."
I’m so upset. I really want to go find my brother.
Little Batman, who was originally gloating, felt more and more that something was wrong the more he listened. His face suddenly darkened and he glanced around. He saw Kennett Shrike, who was surrounded by second-grade students not far away.
——Great, he understood who was behind this. There had been a lot of conflict between the Batman family and the Shrike family recently.
"Mr. Shrike, please keep your dog under control," Little Batman said gloomily. "Don't let him bark everywhere regardless of the situation."
Young Master Shrike raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Mr. Bateman, what do you mean? Even if Mr. Brody doesn't want to satisfy this lovely student's little thirst for knowledge, what business is this of yours?"
Percy watched the chaotic farce with an expressionless face, his head buzzing.
If it were the former Percy Brody, a small-town test-taker who made his way through purely on talent and involution, he would have been extremely nervous about stepping into a struggle between great nobles, thinking about how to imitate these elegant and fierce verbal battles and experience the subtle dance steps of the nobles as they skillfully walked on the edge of a knife.
As for now, Percy Brody, who had been through the Q&A session at the Warlock Guild in Port Morris, had only one thought in his mind: What a boring bunch of people! Don't these nobles have anything else to do besides fighting among themselves?
—If he had that much time, he'd be better off compiling a set of easy-to-understand textbooks, writing several drafts of talent selection mechanisms, establishing a comprehensive system for training sorcerers, and dedicating his limited life to the endless pursuit of magic instruction... Although he didn't want to admit it, Percy actually quite enjoyed the admiring stares from the common people. Of course, if possible, he'd even prefer his brother reject fewer drafts of his "proposal." He'd be moved to tears.
As for the Saint Bartolomeo Warlock College…the temple of warlocks, the cradle of geniuses, it is gradually losing the original intention of Saint Bartolomeo in establishing the school.
"That's enough."
Kennett Shrike's expression suddenly changed. He felt a sudden weight all over his body, nearly collapsing on the ground. Under the heavy pressure of the Lord's Prayer-level warlock, except for him and Little Bartman, the students around him, who were far less powerful than him, had already collapsed to the ground in a cold sweat, with a flash of surprise and fear on their faces.
Everyone had a single thought: Was Percy Brody crazy? Did he even know that this corridor was home to the descendants of nearly all of the powerful figures in the Silver Iris Empire?
"You guys talk a lot of nonsense." The seemingly crazy black-haired boy raised his chin indifferently: "I'll say this one last time - if you don't like me, see you on the training ground. Don't do these disgusting tricks."
"Who do you think you are?" Kennett Shrike gritted his teeth and sneered, "Do you think you can afford to offend a Shrike? A mere prayer—"
"Then come on." Percy Brody interrupted him without hesitation. He walked step by step towards the handsome Master Shrike with a slightly distorted face. "Then, come on, huh?"
But until the corner of the black-haired boy's robe brushed past Kennett Shrike's ear, the scene remained silent. The latter's teeth made a slight knocking sound, but he kept his fists clenched and said nothing.
So everyone could only watch as the young man walked to the end of the college corridor without looking back, until his figure calmly disappeared around the corner. Amid the murmurs of the crowd, little Batman followed him silently with a frown on his face.
...He always felt that his old rival seemed to have unloaded the burden he had been carrying for a long time at this moment. Those false and awkward things seemed to have suddenly disappeared from him, and there was even an indescribable lightness in his steps.
This is not right, Tran Bateman thought, absolutely wrong. That guy is obsessed with climbing up the social ladder, but he is also stubborn and unwilling to give up his dignity and face. So why would he suddenly be so rude to Kennett Shrike, with whom he has no major conflict?
——Unless the other party has a stronger thigh.
Percy didn't care what these people were thinking. In just six months, he suddenly realized that his classmates were simply childish and boring.
The black-haired boy walked quickly towards his dormitory. Fortunately, the St. Bartolomeo Warlock Academy was very generous to this group of rich and noble chosen ones. The dormitory area allocated was surprisingly large, enough to accommodate two more people.
"Brother, it's me."
Percy knocked on the door carefully, and after hearing "Come in", his shoulders relaxed and he pushed the door open. His brother had rarely disappeared, but buried himself in the pile of documents.
"According to your class schedule, you came home seventeen minutes late today." Those smoky gray eyes took the time to raise their heads and quickly scanned him. "Is someone giving you trouble?"
Percy was stunned for a moment, then his eyes widened in surprise: "Brother, do you still remember my class schedule?"
professor:"……"
He frowned in confusion. "Is this something so hard to remember?"
Percy smiled shyly and said nonchalantly, "Nothing. Kennett Shrike stopped me and had a few words with me, but I've dealt with it."
"That's so cool, Percy," he praised himself inwardly. "You sound very reliable."
Nova glanced at his silly brother and was about to say something when he paused. Someone else came in, the figure of the savior appeared at the door, holding a figure in his hand. Looking closely, who else could it be but little Batman?
"This gentleman has been peeking out, acting suspiciously," Azuka said calmly. He glanced at Percy and asked casually, "He's been following you all the way. Didn't you notice?"
Percy: "..."
He didn't dare to look at a certain god, so he could only glare angrily at the damned Tran Bateman. The latter was obviously still in shock. He stared at him blankly for a moment, then suddenly shouted: "Percy Brody! I knew you had a new backer! You wuwuwu——!"
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