Meanwhile.
The entire Knight Academy had plunged into chaos. The enemies numbered in the dozens, and though they occasionally injured humans by mistake, the Blood Race remained their primary targets.
Luna lingered near the venue, not having strayed far. She felt a twinge of worry for Adolf—that man had vanished…
Thanks to the enemies focusing mainly on the Blood Race, she remained relatively safe. As she watched one Blood Race member after another come under assault, Luna hesitated, torn over whether to intervene…
She wasn’t as extreme as Adolf, but Luna harbored no fondness for the Blood Race. In truth, she downright despised them.
Just then.
A Pink-Haired Little Lolita nearby fell under attack, surrounded by over a dozen humans…
Luna clenched her teeth, still wrestling with the decision to help. Gazing at the Pink-Haired Little Lolita’s pitiful expression, her thoughts flashed to Russell Roland’s repulsive face from just days earlier—and to the blatant discrimination humans faced in this so-called City of Equality.
The next second, she turned and walked away.
Hmph!
I’m not abandoning anyone to die. I’m simply following the academy’s evacuation protocols…
No sooner had she turned than regret washed over Luna. She spun back around, unable to simply stand by…
In the instant Luna turned, a gray shadow burst forth from the darkness, like a beast long lurking in ambush. Its eyes gleamed with eerie green light in the night as it swiftly dismantled over a dozen foes with thunderous speed, landing before Aisha Hodhua.
Aisha stared at Shika’s form in mild surprise. It wasn’t surprise at why he had come to her rescue—she held no doubts on that front. Er… when had such profound trust taken root…? No, what caught her off guard was how different Shika seemed tonight.
His frame looked more robust, his fur unusually thick…
He hadn’t activated Semi-Werewolf Transformation, yet the beginnings of full Werewolf Transformation were evident…
“I don’t know why, but tonight my beast blood is surging…”
As the werewolf youth spoke, a full moon hung overhead…
…
The words had barely left his mouth.
A short, slender figure appeared—clad in a pure black mask, his head dyed deep blue. He positioned himself before Iyefut Cape, parrying Adolf’s strike with flawless precision.
“Uh… Yi Ye, I’m here. How do you keep getting chased down like this?”
In the past, Iyefut would have unleashed a barrage of complaints on Mad Rogue without hesitation. But not this time—right now, she brimmed with a profound sense of security…
She hadn’t truly expected him to show up just because she called…
This moment felt straight out of the hero-rescues-damsel scene in Blood Duke’s Daughter and Human Commoner Boy!
“Um… Yi Ye, do you have some special constitution or something? Like one that draws assassins like flies…?”
Fine, Iyefut couldn’t hold back after all. Her composure cracked as she muttered, “Shut your mouth! Don’t ruin my touching moment with your nonstop chatter, Mad Rogue! Hmph~”
With a delicate huff, Iyefut turned her face slightly away and pouted. In her peripheral vision, she caught the stares of nearby students and seemed to realize something.
One second prior, she had embodied the archetype of a spoiled duke’s daughter; the next, she adopted a poised and elegant air.
Sang found himself amused by her antics.
In some ways, Iyefut’s temperament mirrored his own—she enjoyed scheming, and though doubt and timidity sometimes gripped her, she always rose to the occasion.
“Pfft…”
“Mad Rogue, don’t you dare laugh like that when I’m such a mess. I can tell you’re grinning even through that mask…”
Sang quickly stifled his laughter and composed himself, turning to face the masked assailant before him. “All right, regardless. I gave you my word—I’d protect you, my Yi Ye.”
After all, he had only just told Yi Ye that night how glad he was to meet her. He couldn’t let her die on the same day.
Luna and Sister Lilian had given this youth a taste of home in an alien world. Snow Hill had taught him the Knight’s Way and the strength to endure. Iyefut Cape had let him relive the thrills of youth in this strange realm and imparted a sliver of righteousness.
Each of them… mattered deeply!
“Stu… stupid jerk! I’m not your Yi Ye…”
At that moment, Sang—now donning a metal mask—and Adolf, veiled in black gauze, gripped their swords and locked eyes in confrontation.
Not far off.
David Ketch and his companions sighed in relief, though tension still gripped them. They could scarcely believe this human known as Shuade. Not just any human, but a low-year transfer student who skipped practical classes altogether—and who had infamously forfeited a public duel.
The masked opponent exuded an eerie aura as well, far from ordinary.
If data panels existed, his stats would fluctuate wildly: Bronze-level frailty one instant, surging to Golden Peak the next.
People like that were the most terrifying…
“Shuade, escort Miss Cape out now! You’re no match for him…”
Adolf caught David Ketch’s words and snarled first, “Too late! No one’s stopping me from purging the Red Lycoris tonight!”
With those words.
Adolf hefted his knight’s sword. He had witnessed Shuade’s forfeiture in practical class before and perhaps underestimated him for it. Thus, he refrained from deploying his Superpower or the Philosopher’s Stone, relying solely on his blade.
“Shuade, you cur who curried favor with the Blood Race to climb the ranks—a puny weakling, a worthless runt. This is none of your concern! Scram and die!”
Towering at nearly six feet, Adolf loomed over Sang’s roughly five-foot-seven frame. The size disparity radiated overwhelming pressure.
For all his venomous rhetoric, Adolf’s inherent decency remained intact.
The diagonal slash aimed from chest to gut, calibrated with restraint—no risk to vital organs!
He couldn’t deliver a killing blow!
Not to a fellow human, at least!
Of course, the Red Lycoris was the exception!
That malevolent entity demanded eradication.
Even as Adolf lunged at Shuade, his focus never shifted there. He fixated on Iyefut Cape—only to discover, to his shock, that her fear had evaporated. She stood utterly composed.
That fiendish Lycoris.
What gave her such brazen confidence!?
Events unfolded to provide the answer. His blade never grazed Shuade; it met an effortless block.
“What!?” Adolf cried out.
Sang gripped his sword one-handed, deflecting the strike with casual ease. In genuine astonishment, he remarked, “That’s it?”
Sang’s surprise was sincere, no posturing involved. He was truly taken aback by the masked attacker’s feebleness.
Good lord!
This feeble!?
He glanced at the fallen senior students nearby, his expression turning to disdain. Didn’t this clown rank at Bronze level? How’d you lot get thrashed so badly? What am I supposed to do, run now?
