Chapter 148 - 147 : Lazy-Ass

Damian’s grip tightened around Arthur’s fist.

Then he moved.

With nothing but sheer brute force, Damian twisted his wrist and hurled Arthur’s arm aside, dragging his whole body with it. In the same motion, Damian stepped in and brought his other hand down like a hammer.

BAM!

Arthur was driven into the ground. The impact shook the earth, cracking the dirt beneath him into a spider‑web of fractures. Dust and loose stones jumped into the air, forming a brief cloud around the small crater his body had carved out.

Before the dust could fully settle, Victor moved.

He kicked off the ground, mana flaring around his legs. His body shot upward, cutting a neat line through the dusty air. For a heartbeat he hung above the crater, blue hair whipping around his face, eyes locked on the dark silhouette below.

Then he dropped.

Victor came down straight toward Arthur like a falling spear.

BOOM.

He landed at the edge of the crater, one knee bent, one foot planted, the shock of his descent deepening the depression in the ground. Cracks raced further outward. Arthur lay in the center of it all, half‑buried in broken earth, unmoving.

Victor rose smoothly, brushing dirt off his coat, and looked down with a thin smile tugging at his lips.

"I didn’t like you from the first moment I saw you," Victor said, voice calm, almost conversational. "And this is the second time I’ve seen you harassing a woman."

He tilted his head.

"You really are a pervert, aren’t you?"

No answer came from Arthur.

He remained still, eyes closed, chest rising and falling shallowly.

Victor’s smile widened.

"If you’re pretending," he said, "remember this—I am not going to eliminate you. I’ll meet you at the academy."

His eyes narrowed, tone dropping.

"I’ll make your life hell. And if you end up in my class, that’s even better."

With that said, he turned his back on the crater.

Victor walked over to Arina and stopped in front of her, his expression softening slightly.

"Are you alright, Miss Arina?" he asked.

Damian joined them a moment later.

"Yeah," he said. "Did he hurt you anywhere?"

Arina did not respond.

She was staring at the crater.

At Arthur.

Her lips pressed together, her eyes unreadable. There was no gratitude on her face. No anger either. Just a tight, conflicted silence.

"Arina?" Damian asked again. "Are you alright?"

She flinched faintly, then gave a small nod.

"I’m fine," she muttered.

Damian exhaled and stepped closer. He gently took her hand, his grip surprisingly careful for someone with his strength.

"I’ll take you back to your group," he said. "You should—"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Damian paused and turned his head.

Victor’s fingers dug into his shoulder, hard enough that the pressure was unmistakable.

"Where are you going?" Victor asked, voice low. "You and I have some unfinished business. Did you already forget?"

Damian blinked once.

"Oh, right," he said. "I almost forgot about you."

A vein popped on Victor’s forehead.

"Do you think that’s funny?" Victor asked through gritted teeth. "This is a matter of my honor. We’re finishing this right here, right now."

Damian looked at him for a long moment.

Then he smiled faintly.

"Well, if you want to fight that badly," he said, "then I’ll honor your wish."

Victor smiled back, sharp and feral.

Mana flared around both of them.

Damian’s aura surged outward like a dense storm front, heavy and oppressive. Victor’s answered it—sharp, crackling, like blades drawn in a thunderstorm. The pressure between them pushed outward, sending loose dust and leaves swirling away, forcing weaker candidates at the edge of the clearing to stumble back.

They took a step toward each other.

Then something completely unexpected happened.

A figure walked right between them as if nothing was happening.

A red‑haired woman stepped through the space where their auras collided. The pressure that had been enough to drive others away simply broke around her, parting like water around a stone.

"Excuse me," she said in an even tone. "Coming through."

Both Damian and Victor froze.

Their auras snapped off almost on reflex as they turned to stare.

The woman did not spare them a glance.

She walked straight toward the crater where Arthur still lay.

Elizabeth Crimson.

Even in the middle of a battle‑scarred clearing, she looked composed. Her long crimson hair was tied into a low ponytail that fell over one shoulder.

She wore a black-and-white maid outfit—fitted bodice, crisp white apron, skirt ending just above her knees, black stockings and sturdy combat shoes instead of heels. The uniform should have made her look harmless.

It did not.

The way she moved, steady and unhurried, made it feel more like armor than fabric.

Victor, Damian, and Arina watched in silence as Elizabeth stepped down into the crater.

She stopped beside Arthur, who was still half‑buried in the cracked ground, and looked down at him with an expression that hovered between annoyance and resignation.

Then she grabbed him by the collar with one hand.

With ridiculous ease, she lifted him out of the crater and slung him over her shoulder like a sack of grain.

Arthur’s arms dangled limply down her back.

"Why are you so late?" Arthur’s voice came, muffled by her shoulder. "I almost got killed a few seconds ago."

Elizabeth’s mouth twitched.

"Stop whining," she said. "And do you really think I’d believe you would get defeated by those two?"

She jerked her head faintly in Damian and Victor’s direction.

"If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. Just admit you didn’t want to fight them because you’re lazy."

A vein popped on Arthur’s forehead.

"How dare you call your master lazy," he said.

Elizabeth did not even hesitate.

"You are not my master," she replied flatly.

The two of them started bickering as if they were walking down a quiet hallway instead of standing in the middle of a battlefield. Their voices rose and fell, exchanging complaints with familiar ease.

Damian watched them, eyebrows raised.

’So he was pretending to be knocked out,’ he thought, a mix of irritation and reluctant respect crossing his mind.

Victor’s expression darkened.

Arina said nothing, but her gaze stayed fixed on Arthur’s back as Elizabeth carried him.

Elizabeth climbed out of the crater and began walking away, Arthur still slung over her shoulder like luggage.

She had only taken a few steps when another voice cut through the air.

"Hey, you."

It echoed sharply, carrying anger rather than power.

"Yes, you. Maid."

Elizabeth stopped.

Slowly, she and Arthur turned their heads toward the voice.

"Hand that bastard over to me. Now."

At the edge of the clearing stood a girl with long silver hair and violet eyes.

Her hair fell in straight, silky strands to her lower back, catching what little light filtered through the trees and turning it into a soft metallic sheen. Her violet eyes were bright, almost luminous, and at the moment they burned with barely constrained fury.

Her features were delicate but sharp—small nose, soft lips pressed into a hard line, a jaw that spoke of stubbornness.

She wore light combat gear tailored to her figure—fitted jacket, short battle skirt over reinforced leggings, knee‑high boots. Even dressed for combat, she carried the natural grace of someone born and raised at the very top.

Jasmine Cael Ashford.

First princess of the Ashford Empire.

She stood with her shoulders back and chin raised, rage clear on her beautiful face.

Arthur felt his breath hitch the moment he saw her.

’Great,’ he thought. ’Of all people...’

He turned his head slightly toward Elizabeth.

"Are you planning to stand there until that crazy woman stabs me to death?" he asked.

"Move."

[ Bloodline Assimilation progress : 70% ]