Chapter 65 Property
A group of young geniuses at the Saint Bartholomew School of Warlocks showed signs of unease.
No one knew when the other party had arrived, or how long they had stood there watching. Just by watching him casually cast a spell at the level of Dispel Lord's Prayer, one could tell he was definitely a powerful being.
The people at White Tower University didn't know much about Mr. Owl, and outsiders knew even less about the mysterious headmaster's temperament and abilities. Mr. Bill Fam, covered in protective magic gear, was still lying on the ground, his life or death uncertain.
"…Your Excellency."
As the most powerful and prestigious student, young Bateman had no choice but to stand up and say, "I don't think this is the proper etiquette for hospitality at your school."
Damn Mad Dog Bill, little Bateman secretly gritted his teeth. If he weren't dead, his equally crazy and vicious father, the Earl, would probably keep biting him everywhere...
"Hmm, guest?"
Mr. Owl sneered, leaning on his cane. He looked up and down at the trembling young man with his shining topaz eyes. "You're the Bateman kid, right? How come you're so blind at such a young age?"
"I only saw a drunk causing trouble in my office—threatening my vice-president, assaulting people over a disagreement, and even killing an ordinary person..." He shouted fiercely, slamming a nearby desk and breaking it with a bang, stirring up dust all over the floor. "What's going on? Is the Saint Bartholomew School of Warlocks planning to openly provoke the Oakenselle Society? Are you going to arrest me and send me to the Inquisition as well?!"
Almost everyone was startled by the loud bang. Azuka noticed the professor's eyebrow twitch. The Vice-Principal, however, rushed over with a look of heartache, frantically trying to pick up the scattered papers. "Ouch! I just sorted through the papers I'd just finished grading. You're just going to hit people when you're upset. Young people are tough and need experience. Why mess with my desk?"
Everyone at Saint Bartholomew's School of Warlocks: "......???"
Is this even human language?!
The other party continued to ramble, "If you're worried about not being gentle enough, that's fine. I'll contact Evergreen Academy right now. Their dean is worried about not having enough sorcerers to practice with his rookies. This is a large quantity of fresh ones—"
"Excuse me, can someone tell me what happened?"
The teacher from St. Bartolomeo's School of Magic finally arrived and saw that the usually lawless troublemakers had shrunk into a group of quails. Nova saw the missing Percy Brody standing next to him, but he seemed not to see him. He looked indifferent and expressionless at his embarrassed classmates, not looking away and not saying a word.
Very good, Nova thought with some relief. Although the process seemed a little strange, the naughty kid seemed to have listened to his advice - stay away from him and don't have anything to do with him.
As for little Bateman's troublemaking in class, Nova didn't think it had much to do with his cousin. After all, a simple inquiry at the Brody family's estate would reveal a wealth of information—thanks to Mrs. Brody's extensive publicity. Furthermore, the two were friends, so it was possible that the information slipped out accidentally, or that little Bateman was simply using the Brody family's cover to enhance his credibility.
Vice-President Gibson Wyatt, on the other hand, greeted them with a broad smile. As someone holding a position at St. Bart's, he was no pushover. However, White Tower University was currently overseen by a ferocious and unpleasant-tempered raptor, whose coat color was crucial. After a veiled negotiation, the other party, with a sullen expression, led the group of listless students away—not forgetting, of course, to drag away the unconscious culprit from the ground.
"Gentlemen, don't go through the hole in the wall, and don't forget to close the door—" Mr. Owl ordered lazily.
Percy was the last one to fall behind, and happened to see his cousin talking to the assistant teacher beside him. The annoying guy seemed to notice his gaze, and looked at him with his blue eyes that still had a hint of smile, and bent gently and seductively - then, in a way that Percy thought was full of malice, he lowered his head to listen to what was being said. From his perspective, his lips almost happened to kiss the tip of the black-haired young man's ear, but his brother, who hated physical contact with others, didn't react at all, as if he was used to it.
Percy Brody: "..."
He wanted to slam the door of the principal's office loudly, but in the end, he suppressed his remaining rationality and closed it gently. He was so angry that he almost tripped over the broken bricks scattered on the ground as he walked out.
"Why are you so close? Can't you hear me?" Nova frowned and glanced at someone. He had just asked if his lesson plan was put away, but this person suddenly came close to him. The unfamiliar breath made his ears itchy, and he always had the urge to rub them with his hands.
It seemed that the owl wasn't a saint yet—at least not yet. Otherwise, it wouldn't deliberately relax for him to see.
I'm taking revenge.
The man mouthed something to him silently, and before Nova could think about it, he heard Dean Rabelais cough loudly.
Then he squeezed in between the two of them and said gruffly to his beloved disciple, who looked indifferent but actually looked bewildered: "How are you? Are you hurt?"
Nova was a little confused. He thought he looked very healthy. "No, Azuka acted in time."
The old man almost rolled his eyes to the sky.
Mr. Owl watched the scene with great interest. After Rabelais finished his routine nagging, he stood up straight, changed his cane to another hand, and stretched out his hand to the young genius who was at the center of the storm.
"Mr. Nova Brody." He chewed on the name meaningfully. "I've heard of you for a long time. You were the last student of Dels, whom I treated like a daughter."
He had indeed long heard of his name. As far as he knew, when Dels Rabelais first joined the faculty, he had declared that he would retire to White Tower University and would not accept any disciples. Even Duke Camus and Cardinal Pavaton Miller refused to give him face. However, not long after, he vehemently denied himself and quickly accepted an unknown young man as his disciple. From then on, he carefully protected him with all his heart, fearing that someone else would abduct his precious student.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Owl." Nova took off a glove and shook his hand. The other man's hand was strong and steady, without sweat. He seemed strong and calm, yet he wore a hood. Facial injury? Concealing his identity? Psychological needs? Doubtful. Calluses on the base of his thumb, knuckles, and the first joint of his middle finger. He'd been holding a pen for years and was skilled in fighting. There were slight wear and tear on his cuffs and a few drops of ink, and a few drops of fresh ketchup on his collar. He looked unkempt, used to living alone. There was a hint of dust on the back of his hair, and spiderwebs on the back of his shoulders and neck. Was he just in a corner of the ceiling...?
"I am a man." He stared at the lower part of the other person's gemstone eyes - the theoretical vent and eyes - and added coldly: "Biologically male, psychologically I identify as a man."
"Oh, the preference is also for men?"
"Ahem." The vice-principal coughed, signaling to the principal that this was extremely rude. Didn't he see that the person protecting his child had already turned his face black? If he really angered him and he came to the office fuming, then the owl would just slap its butt and fly away, and his desk would be the one to suffer.
"No, I'm asexual," the other person continued smoothly, seemingly unfazed. "I have no sexual attraction to either men or women—or to any species other than humans."
Mr. Owl: “…”
He was actually choked by a young boy and didn't know how to respond for a moment.
But he quickly shifted his focus and pointed at the blond young man beside him: "It seems this is the knight who is protecting the princess?"
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Owl." The other person leaned slightly towards him and said, "I am Azuka, Professor Brody's assistant."
But this time, the eccentric guild leader wasn't so friendly. He accepted the other party's courtesy but didn't return it. His tone was devoid of much emotion: "You can fool others, but you can't fool me—you're pretty ruthless, kid."
A tiny crack had appeared in Bill Fam's soul—so slight, almost undetectable, that if it wasn't caught and repaired in its early stages, it would slowly dissipate like a cracked pile of sand. If the Fam family discovered it, they would simply think Owl had gone too far—who would suspect a mere mid-level apostle of sorcery?
This guy is definitely more than just an apostle, maybe he is a junior Lord's Prayer - even if not, at least he has the means to directly attack the soul.
At this age and with this achievement, no matter where he is, he can be called a young genius who is brilliant and even shocking.
Despite being discovered, the divinely favored one maintained a faint smile. After all, he was a powerful being on the verge of entering the realm of sainthood. However, he didn't consider this excessive, and even felt he had exercised great restraint, believing the other party still hadn't figured out his true strength. In the classroom where the professor was attacked, he hadn't noticed any additional protective measures. If it weren't for him, the ordinary professor would have been unable to withstand the attack of a sorcerer—he would have been seriously injured, perhaps even killed.
How come this group of people put his professor in danger on their own and still want them to follow the "script"?
Azuka doesn't believe in "coincidences". Countless experiences in his previous life tell him that there are forces behind all coincidences - including Bill Farm this time.
The atmosphere was slightly tense, and the bewildered Vice-President couldn't help but glance at Dean Rabelais's expression—hmm, he couldn't understand it. His face was exactly the same blank expression as his student's. As for the overly beautiful young man who gave a very gentle and kind first impression, for some reason, he now revealed a hint of cold oppression.
Mr. Owl gave him a deep look and said, "You shouldn't stay here. You have no desire for knowledge, but are more suited to the pursuit of power. You should go to St. Bartolomeo's School of Warlocks."
"Sorry to interrupt," Nova Brody suddenly said, "but he is my assistant."
"Mine. I hired him out of my own pocket, without using any funding from Baita University." The black-haired young man emphasized coldly, "Strictly speaking, he is my personal property."
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