"And who are you? His lover?" The noble sneered, eyeing Solomon's appearance while gripping the hilt of his sword in irritation.
"Would it help you sleep better at night if I said yes?" Solomon teased, leaning the dented pipe casually against his shoulder.
"You've got quite the mouth on you, huh?" The noble replied, an ugly sneer curling his lip. He stood up straight and turned toward the massive saber-toothed cat, which was groggily struggling to stand after hitting the wall.
Then, completely unexpectedly, the noble drove his blade straight down, stabbing his own saber cat directly through the chest.
The beast let out an ear-piercing shriek, staring at its master with hollow, dying eyes before collapsing motionless against the cobblestone.
"Such a useless amusement. I can't believe you cost that much when you're this pathetic," he muttered, pulling his blade free with a sickening squelch. He casually wiped the blood from his sword with a piece of cloth.
"Now, where were we..." He turned back to Solomon, slowly closing the distance between them.
"Would you like to answer me now? Who are you?" he asked again, the smug, sadistic smile returning to his face.
Hael stared worriedly at the two, still gasping for breath as he clutched his bleeding chest.
"Like I said, would knowing make you sleep better? Because I might tell you if it does," Solomon replied. Shockingly, his tone was entirely calm; he didn't seem the least bit nervous.
The noble's expression instantly turned sour. His grip on his sword tightened ever so slightly with each step he took toward Solomon.
"Solomon..." Hael finally managed to croak out. Although his voice was weak, it was loud enough to catch the noble's attention.
"Wait. Solomon?" The noble stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to stare at Hael, then slowly back at Solomon, his eyes widening.
Although it was faint, Solomon saw the noble's lips moving, whispering something to himself in disbelief.
"The anomaly?"
Despite the barely audible whisper, Solomon managed to catch it. A wide, mocking smirk slowly spread across his face.
"Wow, I didn't expect a knight would actually know me. One who's this stupid, too," Solomon snarked.
In an instant, the noble's confident demeanor vanished. His guard shot up, his body tensing in high alert. Despite the vast separation between their courses, Solomon's identity as the sole anomalous magician was rare and terrifying enough to warrant caution—even from the physical combatants of the School of Arms. Even if Solomon's abilities were a complete misunderstanding, this noble had no way of knowing that.
All he saw standing before him was someone utilizing the exact same chaotic energy as the necromancer who had single-handedly wreaked havoc across the entire continent of Paxurus twenty years ago.
However, the noble wasn't going to let Solomon see his fear. His ego was on the line.
"Stupid? Hah?! You dare call me stupid?" he spat. Yet, he was visibly nervous, his eyes darting away to avoid eye contact as a red, embarrassed hue crept up his neck.
"Ego is quite a terrifying thing. It completely ruins a human's ability to think properly," Solomon noted smoothly, slowly walking forward, closing the gap between them. "It even dulls the one instinct that keeps you breathing: survival."
In his hands was a cold, dented scrap pipe, and standing in front of him was a heavily armed, yet trembling, knight student.
"You... it's going to go badly for you if you try something," the noble stammered, instinctively taking a step backward. His grip on his sword began to shake. "Ars strictly prohibits killing, and... my family won't let you get away with it!"
"And that's exactly what makes you stupid. You fail to recognize those exact same things applying to you," Solomon countered sharply. "Do you really think Apollo is going to shield you when Ars starts investigating a royal's death? What delusional fantasy gave you that idea?"
The noble froze. His knees began to knock together as he slowly turned his gaze toward Hael, who was still groaning in pain against the brick wall.
"That is a prince. An imperial prince, at that," Solomon continued, his voice cold and unforgiving, intentionally adding to the psychological weight. "Apollo may be the crown prince, but right now, you are actively posing a threat to the image of the royal kingdom. Do you understand what you just did?"
The noble's facade finally shattered. He began to act erratically. The bloody sword slipped from his trembling hands and clattered onto the cobblestone. He grabbed his own face, his fingers clawing at his cheeks as he began to rapidly hyperventilate.
"What have I done.... What have I done...."
In a blind panic, he turned toward Solomon and suddenly lunged at him, a look of absolute grief and desperation contorting his face.
To say Solomon wasn't weirded out would be a lie.
Was he that scary? A lingering thought hovered inside his head.
It seems like he hadn't realized just how terrifyingly strong his fake reputation and silver tongue were. Nonetheless, he still had a job to finish.
As the noble rushed forward to grovel, Solomon firmly swung the heavy metal pipe, cracking it directly against the back of the man's head. A loud, dull clang echoed throughout the alleyway, and the noble instantly collapsed to the ground, out cold.
"Hah... bastards like this make my stay here way more complicated than it needs to be," Solomon sighed, tossing the pipe away. It clattered into the scrap pile right next to Hael, severely startling him.
Hael, who had been struggling just to breathe, stared at Solomon in absolute shock. He then shifted his gaze down to the unconscious attacker lying face-first in the dirt.
"Are you good, man? Did he hit you in the head, too?" Solomon joked, walking over.
However, Hael only continued to stare at him, his face completely blank, refusing to say a word.
"Don't worry, that guy's fine. He's a knight or something, he's got a hard head..." Solomon added, trying to brush off the prince's empty stare.
"It's not that..." Hael finally choked out. " You're... you're not going to be fine. Unsanctioned fights outside of the arenas are heavily punished by Ars. And all while using mana, It's an automatic expulsion under Article—"
"Article 19-57? Yeah, I know," Solomon interrupted smoothly.
"Then, why did you do that?" Hael looked at him with a desperate, questioning stare, his breathing erratic and ragged.
"What? That article specifically mentioned the use of mana, something I didn't do. Besides, should I have just stood by and let him beat you and your cat to death? Damn, not even a 'thank you'?" Solomon complained, crossing his arms.
Unexpectedly, however, it seemed Solomon had fundamentally misjudged Hael's personality.
"And... wh-why does that matter to you?" Hael forced the words out through a burning, ragged breath. He pressed his back hard against the cold wall, dragging himself backward ever so slightly.
His posture was purely defensive. It was the desperate, instinctual reaction of someone who had learned the hard way that no one ever risked anything for him without demanding a steep, impossible price in return.
Seeing the miserable, terrified expression on the prince's face, Solomon's sarcastic retort died in his throat. He failed to reply.
"I'm not Apollo. I can't... and I won't do anything for you," Hael gritted out. He pressed his trembling arms against the floor, trying to lift himself up. He stuttered and collapsed back into the dirt, but he was clearly exerting every ounce of his remaining strength just trying to escape the situation.
Instead of offering a hand, Solomon simply turned his back on Hael and silently walked away, heading straight back out the mouth of the alleyway.
...
Staring at Solomon's fading silhouette disappearing into the neon lights of the market, Hael bit his lip in deep, familiar bitterness.
That ever-so-familiar feeling was once again sitting right at his doorstep. The exact moment his mother died was the moment he had become utterly alone in the world. He shouldn't have expected tonight to be any different.
Nonetheless, just as he always did, Hael forced himself to rise. Grabbing his bleeding chest, he pulled himself up using the brick wall for support.
After failing to stand a couple of times, he gave up and decided to crawl toward the unconscious noble lying in front of him, desperately searching the man's pockets for a healing potion or bandage. But he found nothing.
And just when it seemed the world was done punishing him, the universe piled on some more. He heard heavy footsteps echoing from the alleyway connected to his hiding spot. Someone was coming. He was about to be discovered lying weak on the floor next to an unconscious Arms student—most likely the heir of an important knight family. It would be another massive controversy blamed entirely on him.
As much as he wanted to look up and defend himself, his body refused. His ears started to ring violently, and his vision began to blur into dark spots. Not long after, a shadowy silhouette loomed directly above him, holding what appeared to be a glass bottle.
Crack!
The figure violently smashed the bottle directly against Hael's head. The glass shattered, drenching him in a thick, strange liquid.
"You... piece of shit..." the man cursed at him.
Unexpectedly, however, the brutal attack brought instant relief. The ringing in Hael's ears rapidly faded, the burning pain in his chest cooled, and his blurry eyes snapped back into sharp focus.
"I'm not... ask..." The man standing over him grumbled, his voice coming through clearly now.
"Huh... what?" Having finally drifted back to his senses, Hael blinked away the liquid.
"I'm not asking you to pay me back for saving your ungrateful mouth, but you are absolutely paying me back for that damn potion, you bastard."
Standing right next to him was Solomon, looking down with an incredibly annoyed expression. Shards of glass littered the ground around Hael, and a glowing red liquid was rapidly seeping into his skin, instantly knitting his slashed flesh back together.
Hael looked around at the glass and then finally back up at Solomon. He hadn't abandoned him. He had just gone to buy a potion.
"Why?" Hael choked out, his voice barely a murmur, fragile and stripped of all its royal armor. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Why was this boy risking being kicked out of Ars to help him? Why had he just spent a small fortune on a potion for him? He couldn't understand.
"Because you're a sacrificial idiot. An idiot just like me," Solomon grumbled, bending down to idly scratch the chin of the black cat, which was currently purring and nuzzling its head safely against Hael's trembling shoulder.