Sabastian's pleas fell flat against the Nobles' laughter. His body curled against the stone, arms feebly raised to shield himself as another kick drove the breath from his lungs.
"Filthy Commoner," Cedric sneered, winding his fist back again.
"Enough!"
The voice cracked like thunder across the courtyard. The bullies froze, heads snapping toward the stairwell. Shaun stood there, chest heaving, black vest shifting with each breath. Natasha stepped beside him, her yellow hanfu swaying, eyes dark and stormy.
"Step away from him," Natasha commanded, her tone sharp as steel.
The Nobles exchanged looks—then snorted. Jasper leaned forward, his smirk cruel.
"And who, exactly, are you two supposed to be? Playing heroes?"
Shaun's gaze didn't falter. His fists clenched at his sides as he answered, voice low but steady.
"I'm Shaun Thunderhawk."
"And I am Natasha Ikazuchi," Natasha followed, chin tilting with pride.
Recognition lit the Nobles' eyes, followed by mocking laughter.
"Wait—Thunderhawk and Ikazuchi? You're the ones who humiliated Rufus and his dogs!" Albus barked, his laugh echoing.
"So the little pests have come to get squashed next," Blaise sneered.
"Try it," Cedric spat, rolling his shoulders. "Dare to touch us—you'll regret it."
Shaun stepped forward, placing himself between Sabastian and the circling Nobles. His knuckles tightened, split skin stinging, but his voice carried firm.
"Then I'll take whatever humiliation you throw at me. But I won't stand here and watch you hurt my friend."
Natasha moved to Shaun's side, lightning flickering faintly in her aura, her lips curving in defiance. "If it's a fight you want, then you'll face both of us."
Sabastian's swollen eyes widened. For a moment, the ache in his ribs dulled under the weight of their words. The courtyard thickened with tension, silence pressing in as two stood against four—sparks dancing in the air, ready to ignite.
**********
Shaun and Natasha squared their stances, ready for the fight—when a sudden gale tore across the courtyard, sharp as a whip. Dust spiraled upward in a coiling draft, leaves scattering as if bowing to an unseen force.
"Stop."
The single word carried like a blade, sharp and commanding. All seven heads snapped toward the source.
Through the haze of shifting air strode a boy. His spiky brown hair caught the sunlight, black eyes gleaming with ruthless clarity. His frame was slender yet honed, every step measured with the calm of a predator.
A blue vest trimmed in gold clung to his form, the black sash at his waist flowing with authority. His white gii swayed with the wind as though even the air bent around him.
The bullies straightened, suddenly uncertain. Shaun and Natasha tightened their guard. Sabastian froze, half risen from the ground, his breath ragged.
He stopped in their midst, and for a heartbeat it felt as if the courtyard itself revolved around his presence. His gaze sweeping across the Nobles, then Shaun and Natasha who stood ready to defend. Finally, his eyes settled on Sabastian—bruised, trembling, kneeling at his feet. His expression twisted into disdain.
"Pathetic," he said, his tone colder than steel, voice cutting through the tension. "You— A worm grovelling in the mud. You deserve every strike they give you."
Sabastian flinched, shame flooding his battered face. The boy's lips curled into a cold smirk.
"If I were in their place, I would've done the same. Perhaps worse. Do yourself a favour, weakling— Leave this academy before it swallows you whole."
"And who the hell are you to decide that? Who are you to say Sabastian doesn't belong here?" Shaun's fists clenched, his voice lashing back before Sabastian could answer.
The boy turned to Shaun, his sharp eyes locking with his. A faint gleam of superiority danced in them as he answered with crisp precision:
"I am Shaumin Skyline. Heir of the Skyline family. Remember the name—because you'll be looking up at it for the rest of your life."
The Nobles' lips split into pleased grins, their earlier tension melting into smug delight at the arrival of another Noble on their side. But Shaun, Natasha, and Sabastian stiffened—the weight of his name heavy, the threat of yet another opponent pressing against their resolve.
The courtyard's air grew heavier, as if daring the sparks of confrontation to ignite. Shaun and Natasha stood their ground, shoulders squared though their legs trembled. The air between them and Shaumin felt pulled taut—an invisible bowstring on the verge of snapping. Natasha's lips drew thin. Her voice was low, steel beneath silk.
"Shaun… he's not just some arrogant Noble. That's Shaumin Skyline—son of Lord Sherlock Skyline, one of the Emperor's ministers."
The bullies behind Shaumin puffed up, faces brightening with renewed cruelty.
"You hear that, peasants?" Albus sneered. "You're squaring off with minister's blood!"
"Pathetic worms," Cedric laughed. "Know your place."
Shaumin ignored them, his sharp gaze fixed on Sabastian. His words fell like frost.
"Leave this academy before your suffering grows worse. That is the only mercy you'll get from me."
"You can't threaten him like that! Everyone here earned their place with sweat and blood—no matter their birth," Shaun's fists tightened, his voice cutting the air.
Shaumin tilted his head, bored amusement curling his mouth.
"And who," he asked, his voice sharp with superiority, "are you?"
Shaun straightened, his jaw clenched. "Shaun Thunderhawk."
Natasha stepped forward, her tone fierce. "Natasha Ikazuchi."
Recognition flickered in Shaumin's eyes, then a dismissive smirk.
"Ah. The infamous pair who humiliated Rufus. Reckless children playing at rebellion. Listen well, Thunderhawk—your struggle is pointless. Commoners like you should return to the farmlands you crawled out of. This academy is not your place."
The bullies cheered, clapping Shaumin's words like a judgment passed from on high.
Shaun's teeth ground together, fury sparking in his chest. "You're the one talking nonsense. If you think you can decide who belongs here, then try and stop me."
He surged forward—only to find Shaumin already there. The boy's speed was uncanny, a blur of motion that seemed to warp the space between them. Shaumin's palm settled against Shaun's chest, calm as a whisper.
"Gale Palm."
BOOM.
The blast of wind was like being struck by a battering ram. Shaun rocketed backward, crashed against the courtyard wall with a bone-jarring thud, stone dust exploding into the air. He crumpled, coughing, ribs burning.
"Shaun!" Natasha screamed and charged, lightning flaring at her fingertips. Her strikes were a blur—but Shaumin moved like air itself, slipping between blows. For a breath he leaned in close, a casual, invasive touch brushing a loose strand of hair from her face—then her cheek.
"Fascinating," he said coolly. "I've met many delicate beauties in Noble courts… but never a wildcat like you."
Natasha snarled, swung harder. Shaumin finally raised a hand. With a casual thrust—
"Gale Palm."
The invisible force hurled Natasha across the stone. She skidded, forced herself up, lungs heaving. Shaumin shook his head, voice dripping with disdain.
"A shame. With your beauty, you could have been a fine flower. But wildflowers are wasted… for they only ever get crushed beneath stronger feet."
But before his words could linger, Shaumin's eyes narrowed. A flicker of danger pulsed at his back. He pivoted sharply, forearms crossing—wind coiling around his hands. Shaun surged back, fury burning in his eyes. Lightning crawled across his fists, veins alight. His Thunder Fist crashed down, straight into Shaumin's palms.
CRACK.
The courtyard shook as lightning met wind. Sparks burst where Shaun's fist collided with Shaumin's guard, a shockwave rattling loose stones across the courtyard. Even the bullies staggered. Shaun's face burned crimson, his teeth bared, eyes blazing. His roar shook the air:
"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER!" Lightning surged up his arms, crawling like veins of fire.
"Touch her again, and I swear—I'll break you myself!" The courtyard fell silent, crackling with the aftershock—thunder snarling against the gale.
**********
Lightning clashed against wind, the courtyard rumbling with their struggle. Shaumin's arms held firm, the swirling gale devouring the crackling thunder. Shaun gritted his teeth, forcing every ounce of strength into his fist, refusing to back down.
"You're strong for a peasant," Shaumin said coolly, his voice unstrained even as wind shrieked between their clashing palms and fists. "But you're still swinging in the dark."
Shaun roared, sparks leaping across his shoulders, the ground beneath his feet splitting. "I'll never back down—not against you!"
For a heartbeat, the fight looked even—but then Shaumin pushed. A sudden surge of wind swept outward, staggering Shaun a half-step, and Shaumin's smirk widened. He had control, and he knew it.
Natasha struggled to her feet, chest heaving, eyes fixed on Shaun. "Shaun, don't—he's too fast!" But Shaun only tightened his stance, planting himself like a storm-struck oak.
Sabastian, bruised and trembling, could only stare. His breath caught—fear, awe, and shame mixing in his chest.
From the side-lines, the four Noble bullies watched with wide eyes. Blaise whispered, "He's actually standing against Shaumin…" But then Cedric's eyes widened as he spotted movement across the courtyard.
Two figures in silver-etched cloaks were striding toward them, the insignia of the Disciplinary Knights gleaming at their shoulders.
"Damn it—it's the Knights!" Cedric hissed, elbowing Albus.
Without hesitation, the four exchanged quick nods and melted into the shadows of a side path, vanishing before anyone noticed. Shaun and Shaumin, locked in their clash, drew back at the same moment. Their fists crackled with fresh power—Shaun's Thunder Fist blazing brighter, Shaumin's Gale Palm roaring louder. The collision was inevitable—
"HEY! What's going on here?!"
The sharp voice cracked through the courtyard. The two Disciplinary Knights approached swiftly, their boots clanging against the stone. Shaun froze, his chest heaving. Shaumin, by contrast, released the pressure in an instant. His aura folded away like a sheathed blade, his posture loose and casual.
He flicked a glance toward where the Nobles had stood—empty. A faint scoff left his lips. "Cowards."
When the Knights drew closer, they found nothing but Shaumin standing calmly, hands clasped behind his back, his expression composed as though nothing had happened. Shaun, Natasha, and Sabastian looked battered and winded—but Shaumin? He looked untouched.
The air still reeked of thunder and wind, yet Shaumin stood straight, unruffled. As if the fight had never been. The two Disciplinary Knights closed in, their silver insignias catching the torchlight. One folded his arms, gaze sharp.
"What's going on here? The courtyard's a mess. Explain yourselves."
Shaumin didn't even flinch. He stepped forward, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, voice dripping with arrogance and ease.
"Nothing worth your concern. We were merely… having a friendly conversation."
Shaun bristled, fists clenched. "That's a lie! You and your lackeys were tormenting Sabastian, threatening him to leave the academy!"
Natasha's voice rang just as sharp, lightning still faintly buzzing at her fingertips. "We stepped in to protect him! Don't let him twist this!"
"A misunderstanding. I was sparring lightly with Sabastian—training, nothing more. Then these two rushed in, thinking I was harming him, and things escalated. Ask him yourself, if you doubt me," Shaumin's smirk widened, his tone smooth as silk.
The courtyard stilled. All eyes turned toward Sabastian. Shaun's gaze pleaded with him. Natasha's burned with righteous fury. The Knights waited, arms crossed, expectant. Sabastian's lips trembled. His swollen eyes darted between them—then fell to the ground. His voice was small, strangled.
"…It's true. Shaumin didn't hurt me. Shaun and Natasha… must have misunderstood."
Shaun's jaw dropped. Natasha's eyes widened in disbelief. "Sabastian—what are you saying?!"
But Sabastian didn't meet their eyes. His hands clenched tight, knuckles white, as if holding back something deeper. Shaumin let out a low chuckle, bowing mockingly to the Knights.
"There you have it. A simple misunderstanding. If you'll excuse me, I have no time to waste on false accusations."
With that, he turned sharply and walked away, his steps slow and deliberate, his arrogance lingering in the air long after he vanished. The Disciplinary Knights exchanged glances, one raising a brow.
"If the boy says it was nothing, then it's nothing. Don't waste our time again."
**********
They departed, boots echoing against the courtyard stone, leaving only silence behind. Shaun and Natasha turned immediately to Sabastian. Shaun's voice cracked with hurt.
"Why? Why would you say that? They were beating you, Sabastian—we saw it!"
"I… I don't want to get dragged into this mess. Please… forgive me," Sabastian's shoulders sagged. His voice broke with quiet misery.
"I'm sorry…" He turned, limping away, his apology barely audible.
**********