The Warden’s Intervention

“You’re not a non-magician after all!”

Quia’s menacing gaze was locked onto You’er, who was now wreathed in icy mist. The shock reverberating through him was profound. During their earlier exchange, he had been confident he’d discerned You’er’s true nature, concluding that You’er was merely a non-magician with extraordinary physical strength. Yet, in this moment…

“It’s that girl!”

Quia’s attention swiftly shifted to Noelle, cradled in You’er’s arms. It was undeniably her; she had just performed some feat, imbuing that brat with such a formidable surge of magic.

‘If I cannot have her, then I must destroy her!’

Quia’s mind screamed this realization, yet he remained rooted, held captive by You’er’s overwhelming aura, daring not to make a move.

“Holy hell! I’m not seeing things, am I?! That’s… m-m-m-m-m-magic power?! Ice-attribute magic power!”

The great hall erupted once more, every eye fixed on You’er with a blend of terror and awe. Among them, Keane’s reaction was undoubtedly the most dramatic; he sprang to his feet, letting out a series of stammering, high-pitched shrieks.

What could this possibly signify? It meant You’er now possessed the formidable power to challenge Quia! It meant Keane’s head would no longer be subjected to the humiliation of being ground into the floor!

“All hail the Boss!”

Keane bellowed, his voice straining with the full force of his lungs.

“Protect her!”

You’er gently guided Noelle to Keane’s side, uttering the command with profound gravity. Seeing Keane vigorously nod in understanding, You’er shot forward like an arrow, lunging towards Quia. His lithe form left a dazzling streak of blue light in its wake.

“Excellent! I’m eager to witness what your paltry magic can accomplish!”

Quia’s eyes narrowed, emitting a dangerous glint. His reaction utterly defied You’er’s expectations; he remained perfectly still, offering no additional defense beyond the raging flames that enveloped him, and met You’er’s punch squarely with his chest.

“You’re a dead man, boy! Hmph!”

You’er’s punch had landed true and hard, a thin trickle of blood now visible at the corner of Quia’s mouth. Yet, the instant You’er’s assault faltered, Quia’s arms, like bands of iron, abruptly cinched together, seizing You’er tightly by both sides of his waist.

He hoisted You’er high into the air, his hands straining with immense force, as though intent on ripping him asunder.

You’er, his feet dangling uselessly above the floor, furrowed his brow. This adversary truly understood how to exploit his massive build, a maneuver that rendered You’er almost entirely powerless.

Nevertheless, this did not imply You’er was without means of resistance. His hands remained free and mobile, allowing him to relentlessly pummel Quia’s arm joints, making it exceedingly difficult for Quia to sustain his hold.

Moreover, the swirling frost that enveloped his body churned violently, assailing the flames on Quia with an almost frenzied intensity.

The incessant hiss and crackle of ice and fire warring against each other filled the air, as colossal plumes of steam billowed towards the ceiling.

Quia found himself unable to crush You’er, just as You’er was unable to break free from his grasp. For a tense moment, neither combatant could gain the upper hand.

Yet, at that very instant, a sinister smile curled Quia’s lips. He abruptly wrenched his head sideways and bellowed at his henchmen.

“What in hell are you waiting for? All of you, attack! Slaughter that little wench over there!”

At his resounding command, the local thugs’ eyes gleamed with sudden realization. Indeed, this was a golden opportunity—how had they not thought of it sooner?

Immediately, countless pairs of malevolent eyes fixated on Noelle. Keane, positioned directly in their path, saw his face blanch to the color of liver, utterly terrified to the point of nearly soiling himself.

“Damn it all! I’m staking everything! You bastards, if you so much as lay a hand on my boss’s woman, you’ll have to get past me first!”

It is often said that individuals, when confronted with utter desperation, can unleash immense courage. This timid and cautious Keane, it seemed, possessed such latent potential. He gazed at You’er, still locked in a fierce stalemate with Quia in the distance, then bit down hard on his tongue, forcing back the surging terror in his heart before resolutely stepping forward to shield Noelle.

“Heh heh, it seems you’re merely digging your own grave!”

A chilling, predatory grin spread across the faces of Quia’s subordinates, the selfsame local thugs who controlled the East District.

“Cut down this fool who doesn’t know his place!”

At that command, they swarmed forward in a single, unified rush.

However, before they could even close in on Keane, a large contingent of bare-assed men surged forward, colliding with them head-on and catching them completely off guard.

The newcomers, sharing Keane’s lowly status, had finally erupted. With You’er, their leader, present and having demonstrated such astonishing and utterly convincing power, what more was there to fear?

“Damn it! These bastards are insane! Don’t hold back, fight them to the death!”

Thus, the chaotic brawl commenced, and the grand hall was instantly transformed into a scene of utter pandemonium.

“It appears your grand scheme has utterly failed.”

You’er’s expression, as he faced Quia, was glacial. Quia’s despicable attempt to harm Noelle had ignited a furious rage within him.

Within his palm, an ethereal, formless surge of Soul Power manifested. The awakened Soul Sword was already beginning to take shape.

Yet, at this precise moment, an unforeseen anomaly occurred.

Throughout the East District, alarms blared. From every conceivable passage, countless arena guards surged forth in a torrent, their blindingly polished weapons glinting menacingly. The two warring factions, caught in their chaotic brawl, were instantly cowed, dropping into defensive crouches with their heads in their hands, too terrified to make even the slightest movement.

Meanwhile, You’er and Quia, with a shared, unspoken understanding, simultaneously ceased their combat and retreated to a considerable distance. Both were acutely aware that this was not the appropriate venue for their true duel.

“What in blazes is going on here?! Have you all lost your minds?! Do you all desperately crave a three-to-five-day stint in the black cells, is that it?!”

As if an invisible hand had parted the arena guards, a path opened, and a short, corpulent man, whose very essence could only be distilled into the words “fat, rolling, crude,” swaggered in. His gaze, as venomous and cunning as a scorpion’s, swept over each prisoner in attendance, striking a chill into the hearts of newcomers and veterans alike.

This was Miekin Hogg, the supervisor of the East District—or, to use his more common title, the Warden of the East District!

“Who is responsible for this pandemonium? I’m counting to three; you would do well to step forward now!”

Miekin’s words cut through the air with menacing intensity. Even the seasoned ‘old-timers’ instinctively recoiled, their necks drawing into their shoulders, not daring to utter a sound, fear starkly etched upon their faces. The newcomers, naturally, were even more petrified.

Only one individual maintained an air of composure: Quia. He first bent his massive frame in a respectful bow to Miekin, then, pointing directly at You’er, began to speak.

“Esteemed Warden Miekin, this man is the primary instigator of this disturbance. His arrogance knows no bounds, and he hurled insults at us. In order to uphold the dignity of the ‘old guard’ and the order of the arena, we were compelled to teach him a lesson.”

Undeniably, Quia’s words were nothing more than impromptu lies, a deliberate attempt to slander You’er. His true intention was to leverage the Warden’s authority to eliminate You’er, whose very presence had become a grave threat to his established position.

And, quite evidently, the Warden believed him.

The Warden’s ominous gaze shifted towards You’er, only to find not You’er, but Keane, whose face was a mask of noble self-sacrifice. To You’er’s utter astonishment, Keane had stealthily stepped in front of him the moment the Warden’s eyes landed, interposing himself to face the Warden’s scrutiny.

Despite Keane’s inherent timidity and cunning, he harbored a keen understanding: for him and their entire group to survive, they absolutely required You’er’s strength. Therefore, You’er could not, under any circumstances, suffer any harm.

“Is it truly him? This scrawny, bug-like wretch—does he genuinely possess such audacity?”

The Warden spared no effort in his scathing dismissal of Keane, leaving the latter utterly speechless and on the verge of tears.

“Uh… no…”

Quia, of course, would not accept this turn of events. He attempted to redirect the Warden’s attention back to You’er, but at that precise moment, Keane executed a spectacular 360-degree rotational, gliding kowtow, collapsing dramatically at the Warden’s feet.

“Oh, esteemed Warden, my dearest Warden, my venerable Warden! You must see the truth of this matter! It wasn’t this humble servant who deliberately provoked Quia! Look, just look, these undergarments were hand-stitched by my eighty-year-old mother on her deathbed; they are her sole remaining relic! Yet Quia, that brute, tried to strip even these from me! I implore you, judge for yourself: can such an indignity truly be endured?”

His face, streaming with snot and tears, conveyed a heart-wrenching, vividly authentic portrayal of profound despair.

Yet, his performance caused the cheeks of every knowing bystander to twitch uncontrollably. Truly, this fellow’s shamelessness and theatrical prowess were beyond compare…

Upon hearing this impassioned plea, the Warden cast a telling glance at Quia, an unspoken understanding passing between them. As the supreme authority of the East District, how could he possibly be unaware of Quia’s past transgressions? Thus…

“Given that there was some provocation this time, I shall overlook your actions just this once. However, should there be a next time… you understand the consequences!”

With those words, the Warden swept his robes and departed. Such minor incidents held little interest for him; typically, a single warning was sufficient to deter any repeat offenses.

Once the Warden had departed, the arena guards swiftly followed suit and withdrew. However, amidst their exit, Quia detained one of them, leaning in to whisper something conspiratorially into his ear.

You’er, observing from a distance, couldn’t shake the unsettling sensation—he suspected, though he couldn’t be certain it wasn’t merely an illusion, that Quia’s surreptitious whispers to the guard were punctuated by malevolent glances directed towards Noelle, cradled securely in You’er’s arms.

This clandestine exchange, however, did not last long. Immediately afterward, Quia departed with his subordinates. He understood perfectly that his continued presence here was futile; this time, he had undeniably kicked against a rock too hard to move.