Chapter 63 Conflict
The open class ended successfully - or at least it could be considered a successful end - at least this time no one started fighting in public, rolling on the ground like two coyotes in the dust; no one rushed to the podium with fists waving, trying to break the speaker's nose.
The few students who had stayed after class to ask individual questions gradually dispersed, and the professor began to sort through the handouts covering the podium. Azuka picked up one of them. Those small islands, composed of fine black handwriting and slightly blurred lines, formed a world of thought and civilization torn apart by history, nurtured by the Creator's painstaking efforts.
"I'll do it."
The Master of the World snatched the notes from his hand and turned the pages lovingly—with undisguised possessiveness, like any good stonemason caressing his dusty masterpiece, tenderly, carefully, full of love and pride.
For no reason, the Savior suddenly wanted to touch the lonely, drooping corners of that person's eyes with his lips, and kiss the pale human skin that was surging with dazzling brilliance.
From the moment he stood on the podium, like a monarch arriving in his kingdom, a subtle desire, unconnected to any thought or instinct, quietly grew within him, almost reaching its peak at this moment—but he failed. With a loud bang as the door bounced against the wall, someone rushed into the classroom, knocking the tables and chairs askew. The gust of wind whipped up the drawings on the desks, and the light that was so close to him trembled sensitively before disappearing.
The lips of the one favored by God gradually pursed into a straight line.
"Sir, the open class is over and the classroom is temporarily unavailable. Doesn't your school ever teach you what courtesy is?" The dark-haired scholar pressed down his wind-blown handouts. Standing behind the podium, thin and tall, he looked up at the uninvited and rude visitor with a cold gaze.
He was a student from St. Bartholomew's. Nova remembered that he was one of the first students to leave. His clothes, which almost had the word "rich" written all over them, and his arrogant expression were enough to leave a deep impression on him. At this time, his collar and cuffs were pulled askew by themselves, and he reeked of alcohol.
"What, what a bullshit open class, burp! You are a talking nonsense, a beast, a disgusting traitor!" The man cursed at him incoherently, his face flushed. Nova smelled the stench of alcohol emanating from the saliva splashing in the air.
对方毫无顾忌地一脚踹翻了挡路的桌椅，又用光球炸飞了几把椅子，在那轰然巨响中还试图越过讲台去揪学者的衣领：“现在我要揍你，让、让你像一只狗一样哀嚎求饶，舔我的鞋子，再送去、送去异端裁决所，你这——”
But he couldn't continue to utter those vulgar and vicious curses. His outstretched hand didn't touch the target at all, so he suddenly retracted it and began to scratch his neck.
“You, what did you do—” The other person screamed in horror, his voice strange and shrill, like a donkey with split vocal cords: “My father is Earl of Fam—”
But soon he could no longer make any sound. His mouth opened and closed comically due to lack of oxygen. His body collapsed limply, and his swollen face turned red like a wolfberry.
The professor's eyebrows twitched at the familiar surname. It was the nobleman who was vying with the Protector Company for 30% of the Silver Flower Mine. He owned several large mines—yes, he was indeed wealthy.
Seeing that Master Fam's face had turned an ominous purple, Nova didn't want to cause any loss of life, so he frowned and glanced at the God-favored One beside him.
The other person's profile was as beautiful as ever, and her eyes were calm, so calm that it was creepy - it was the look of someone looking at a dead object.
...Wait, does this guy really want to kill someone here?
"Azuka," he whispered a warning, touching the man's finger calmly.
The other person quickly shook his hand back, blinked slowly, and then, as if waking from a dream, moved his lips and muttered something softly. Master Fam began to gasp for air, clutching his chest and coughing violently. He vomited, and the sour smell of fermented food immediately filled the room.
As expected of a warlock, the guy collapsed in his vomit, gasping for breath, still mumbling curses: "You, ahem, heretic, how dare you - I will definitely tell, tell my father -"
The bloodshot eyes that emerged from the wet and sticky hair were like a poisonous snake full of hatred, but when they met a pair of calm blue eyes, they couldn't help but tremble in fear.
Whether it is a drunkard who has lost all his mind or an animal that has no humanity at all, they can clearly understand what the smell of death is.
Nova pulled his hand out of the other person's grip—the other person tightened it for a moment, but soon relaxed submissively. He approached the drunkard, a pile of mud, with an expressionless face, but the other person subconsciously squirmed backwards until he shrank into the corner.
He looked half sober, and shouted fiercely but weakly: "What do you want to do?!"
The professor ignored him completely, stared at the guy carefully for a while, and couldn't help twitching the corners of his mouth.
"…Are you serious?"
Young Master Fam reeked of alcohol, his sleeves still stained with a few wet wine stains, his skin darkened under his eyes, his face swollen and red—a typical alcoholic who had consumed a large amount of alcohol in just half an hour. Nova even suspected he'd skipped class just to drink.
Dean Rabelais's words came true. Perhaps it was the alcohol that destroyed all the evidence, but he could not find any incongruity in this man for the time being, as if the other party was just an incredible idiot who came to pick a fight on a whim. What a standard vicious and brainless villain in a melodramatic comic.
If the professor was the only one standing here, even he would not be able to deal with such a strong humanoid creature with no intelligence, difficulty in logical judgment, and even inability to communicate. Injury is inevitable.
…So it was really just an accident?
The loud noise quickly attracted others. Someone pushed open the classroom door, which was blocked by desks and chairs, and saw the strange scene of the sorcerer from St. Bartholomew being forced to hide in a corner and tremble in fear by the weak ordinary people.
"Professor Brody! What happened?" The students who had returned from Baita University reacted and ran towards the professor while picking up the fallen tables and chairs.
"This person suddenly broke in and tried to attack the professor," their teaching assistant explained calmly. "I had to intervene."
"Bill Fam." Little Batman, who was following behind, frowned in disgust.
This man had a very unpleasant nickname, "Mad Dog Bill". He was uneducated and relied on his rich father, a count, to act recklessly, drinking and causing trouble every day. He was relieved when he saw him leave on his own. At least he would not go crazy in public and embarrass the St. Bartolomeo Warlock College. Who on earth added him to the list of auditors?
Perhaps seeing someone coming, the drunkard, who had collapsed on the ground, stood up again: "Catch him! Take that bastard to the Inquisition!"
All the students at Baita University glared at him immediately - they were all young and energetic teenagers. When they saw someone insulting their teacher, some of them couldn't control their anger and cursed back.
"Watch your mouth! This is not your territory!"
"You come here to fight for no reason, and when you can't win, you start to cheat. Do you people from St. Bartholomew have any shame?"
Few people dared to speak to the sorcerer in this way, and the students on the other side were also not happy about it. Someone stood in the crowd and said sarcastically, "Who knows? If it were me, the Inquisition would arrest all of you."
"Who are you calling a heretic?!"
"——Everyone, be quiet first."
As the only professor here, Nova had to step up and maintain order. He certainly couldn't out-voice a bunch of teenagers—but fortunately, he had built up a lot of prestige. His cold glance was like a bucket of ice water being poured over the area, and even the students of St. Bartholomew fell silent. He was finally able to control the conflict, which would have been disastrous had it broken out.
Little Bateman was still hesitant at first. The current situation seemed to suit his brother's wishes. But when those gray eyes glanced over, he subconsciously raised his voice for some reason: "Everyone from St. Bartholomew's should shut up! Marton, Paz, you two go help Mr. Fam up first."
Pas was the student who had sat next to Marton before. He curled his lips in disgust when he heard this: "No way, he stinks and I'm wearing new clothes."
Marton nodded in agreement.
Little Bartman turned his head abruptly and glared at the two of them coldly. "As the second-grade student, I ask you, could you please help Mr. Fam up first?"
They both responded: “…”
Wow, little Batman looks like he's ready to eat someone - what is he so mad about?
Seeing that the other party was about to lose his temper, Marton grabbed the reluctant Paz and dragged him towards the corner, muttering as he walked: "Okay, okay, it's our grade leader's fault that he's not here. Now you're the boss."
Mad Dog Bill didn't seem to have any injuries except for a few scratches on his neck. Seeing someone coming to help him, he immediately grabbed Marton's trouser leg and said, "They want to kill me! Just the two of them - I'm going to tell my father -"
Marton was immediately horrified: "My Poseidon, let go! My pants!"
This guy has vomit on his hands!
Paz, who was gloating at the side, pinched his nose and rolled his eyes coldly when he heard this: "Come on, Mr. Fam, aren't you ashamed enough?"
This man had been able to grow up in peace because Count Fam had lavished countless rare magical items on his precious only son. He'd even boasted before that his newly acquired protective magical item, "Angia's Guardian," could block a full-strength attack from a Lord Prayer-level warlock—killing people? Just an ordinary person and a common warlock? This guy must have been hallucinating again.
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