Chapter 157: What’s Happening to Me? [8]
"Alright, I’m hungry."
Oliver said it after he’d finally stopped pacing around the room.
"Let’s go to the dining hall."
Alaric opened his eyes and sat up. He stretched his arms over his head, feeling his shoulders pop, then stood and grabbed his coat from where he’d tossed it over his desk chair.
"Yeah, alright."
Oliver was already at the door, holding it open. "Maybe we can actually have a normal meal without you saying something that’ll get us both killed."
"No promises."
"Of course not." Oliver sighed but stepped into the hallway.
They walked through the corridors toward the main building where the dining hall was located. More students filled the halls now.
The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread drifted from the kitchens. Students clustered at various tables.
Alaric and Oliver joined the line forming near the serving counters. Kitchen staff moved efficiently behind the counter, ladling soup into bowls and cutting thick slices of bread.
They took a nearby bench and sat down with their trays.
After finishing, Alaric stood. "I’ll be back."
"Where are you going?"
"Washroom."
Oliver waved him off, still chewing.
Alaric weaved through the tables toward the back of the hall where the facilities were located. He pushed through the heavy wooden door into the washroom.
Empty. Good.
He moved to one of the sinks and after relieving himself, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on his face.
Let it drip down while he stared at his reflection in the polished mirror.
He dried his face with a towel and turned toward the door.
Then suddenly...
[Ding!]
A blue panel materialized in front of him.
Alaric stopped mid-step.
[Urgent Quest: Upgrade System Level to 4]
[Time Limit: 1 Month]
[Penalty: Loss of all stats and skills]
He stared at it.
"What the fuck."
The panel didn’t respond, just hovered there with its cheerful notification.
Alaric’s jaw clenched.
"First you go silent for over a week, no warning, no explanation, just gone... And now you come back with this?"
The system remained silent.
"An urgent quest with a penalty that would literally destroy everything I’ve built?" His voice rose slightly despite the empty washroom.
Still nothing.
Alaric took a breath, forced himself to calm down. Getting angry at a system interface accomplished nothing.
He read the notification again. One month. Upgrade to level 4.
He pulled up his status mentally, checking his current level and available Domination Points.
[System Level: 3]
[Domination Points: 7,800]
[Points required for Level 4 upgrade: 15,000]
So he needed more than double what he currently had. In one month.
"Perfect," he muttered. "Just perfect."
He dismissed the notification with a thought and pushed through the washroom door back into the dining hall.
Then the noise hit him immediately.
Alaric’s eyes went to his table.
A small crowd had gathered around it.
Students were standing, craning their necks to see. Others at nearby tables had turned in their seats, watching.
At the center of it, Oliver sat frozen on the bench while three students loomed over him.
Alaric recognized the one in front, Marcus something, from one of the minor noble houses. The same prick who’d tried to start something with him at the banquet. Flanked by two friends who looked like they spent more time in the mirror than the training yards.
Marcus held Oliver’s bag in one hand, dangling it just out of reach.
"Just asking where you got the coin for academy tuition," Marcus was saying, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Scholarship students don’t usually eat this well. Makes a person wonder if you’re stealing."
"I’m not stealing anything," Oliver said. His voice came out tight, controlled, but Alaric could see his hands shaking on the table. "Give me my bag back."
"Or what?" One of Marcus’s friends laughed. "You’ll report us? To who?"
The crowd murmured. Some students looked uncomfortable, others entertained. A few were already whispering to their friends, spreading whatever version of this story they’d concocted.
Alaric started walking toward the table.
"Please," Oliver tried again, reaching for his bag. "Just give it back."
Marcus jerked it higher. "Say ’my lord’ first. Show some respect."
"That’s enough." Alaric’s voice cut through the noise as he reached the group.
Marcus turned, and his expression shifted from smug superiority to something uglier when he saw who’d spoken.
"Glimor." He said the name like it tasted bad. "This doesn’t concern you."
"That’s my roommate. It concerns me." Alaric stopped a few feet away, hands still in his pocket. "Give him his bag."
"Or what?"
"Or I’ll take it."
Marcus’s friends shifted, moving to flank him. The crowd pressed closer, sensing something about to happen.
Marcus’s smile was sharp and unpleasant. "You think because you’re Glimor’s new pet heir, you can talk to us like this?"
"I think you’re holding something that isn’t yours. That makes you a thief." Alaric’s voice stayed level. "Funny, since you just accused him of the same thing."
The crowd nearby began laughing. Marcus’s face flushed.
"You little—"
"Give. Him. The bag."
The air between them felt electric. Several students had backed up, giving them space. Others leaned in closer, not wanting to miss what happened next.
Marcus threw the bag, not at Oliver, but at Alaric’s face.
Alaric caught it one-handed without flinching.
"There. Happy?" Marcus stepped forward, getting in Alaric’s space. "Now what are you going to do about it?"
Alaric met his eyes. Held them.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile that made Marcus’s two friends exchange uncertain glances.
"Nothing," Alaric said quietly. "You’re not worth the effort."
He turned his back on Marcus and handed Oliver his bag. "Come on. Let’s go."
"You don’t just walk away from me!" Marcus grabbed Alaric’s shoulder, spinning him around.
Bad move.
Alaric’s hand shot up and caught Marcus’s wrist. His grip tightened, not enough to break, but enough to make Marcus’s eyes widen in pain.
"Argh!"
The dining hall had gone completely quiet now. Alaric leaned in close, voice dropping so only Marcus and those immediately nearby could hear.
"Touch me again, and I’ll break your hand. Bother my roommate again, and I’ll make sure everyone in this academy knows you’re nothing but a jumped-up coward who picks fights with scholarship students because actual fighters terrify you."
He released Marcus’s wrist and stepped back.
Marcus stood there, face red, hand cradling his wrist. His friends had gone pale, clearly not wanting any part of whatever this had become.
"You’ll regret this," Marcus said, but his voice had lost its earlier confidence.
"I doubt it."
Alaric turned to Oliver. "Let’s go."
Oliver grabbed what was left of his things and followed quickly.
They walked through the silent crowd, which parted to let them pass. Alaric could feel eyes on his back—some impressed, some nervous, some calculating.
As they reached the dining hall doors, the notification appeared again.
[+150 DP]
[+50 DP]
Sigh!