Free Web NovelChapter 58: Strategic Nepotism
Before the attendant could answer, the door swung open and more Resonators filed into the greenhouse. Each wore the Verdant Circle’s guild band, but none of them looked like alchemists.
Damon recognized their types immediately. A tank with a reinforced tower shield. A fighter with scarred knuckles. And behind them both, a druid whose presence seemed oddly out of place among the poisoned wreckage.
"So," the tank rumbled, scanning the room. "Who’s causing trouble in our—"
He stopped cold when his eyes landed on Damon. Gold hair. Blue eyes. There was only one person in the academy who looked like that and could apparently walk through Leif’s poison without collapsing.
"Holy shit. It’s a Persival."
The druid stepped around the tank, considerably smaller and visibly more composed, though his eyes widened as he took in the destruction.
"That explains the description," he murmured. "Lightly equipped Resonator challenges one of our stronger members and somehow doesn’t end up paralyzed on the floor."
"Who cares whose son he is?" The fighter pushed past both of them, brushing their shoulders aside. "He still wrecked our equipment."
He reached for Damon’s wrist, his grip tight with the practiced confidence of someone used to subduing troublemakers. Stronger than Matthew. That much was obvious.
But he didn’t have a specialized class. No Shell, no flames, no tricks. Just raw physical conditioning built over years.
Damon wrenched his arm free with a single sharp motion.
The fighter’s hand came away empty. He stared at his own palm, then back at Damon, his expression shifting from authority to disbelief.
"T-The hell...?!"
Damon met his eyes without flinching. freēwēbnovel.com
"Can I explain myself before you decide to take me in?" ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
The fighter’s jaw tightened. He took a half-step back, reassessing.
"You’ve got five minutes."
"Leif Kjellson."
Damon said.
"He was one of the people who made my life hell for two years. Back when my system was dormant, he poisoned my food. Repeatedly. Nothing lethal, just enough to make me sick. The academy staff never did anything about it because he had a working system and I didn’t."
Damon offered a quick introduction, enough to earn some sympathy, or at least the moral high ground, after being the one who threw hands first.
He gestured at the wreckage around them.
"He recognized me. Started taunting me. Said he wouldn’t stop at ’simple vomiting potions’ this time. Surely you think I did the right thing, right?"
Damon glanced at their faces. They weren’t happy, but they weren’t exactly siding with Leif either. That was something. But "something" wasn’t going to get him out of this mess, and right now, every minute spent arguing was a minute he wasn’t getting stronger.
So he played the one card he rarely used.
"Besides," he said, keeping his voice light, "you wouldn’t want word getting around that someone who used to bully Lucas Persival’s son right here in your guild hall. Imagine the backlash—"
The druid’s hand shot up before anyone else in the room could hear.
"—Enough. We understand." His eyes darted toward the door, then back to Damon. "But we’re still expecting you to cover the damages."
"I can do that."
The tank let out a low whistle. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Damon said. "Send the bill to my father’s estate. Lucas Persival. He’ll cover it."
The fighter’s eyebrows shot up. "You’re going to bill Lucas Persival for a greenhouse brawl?"
"He won’t mind, I’ll pay my father back in the future."
The druid pinched the bridge of his nose. "I’m going to have to write a report about this. A very long, very detailed report."
"Write whatever you need to." Damon turned toward the door, then paused. "One more thing. Leif Kjellson. Is he actually a high-ranking member here?"
The three guild members exchanged glances. The tank shifted his weight. The fighter crossed his arms and looked away. The druid’s expression flickered through several emotions before settling on something carefully neutral.
"Officially?" The druid chose his words with obvious care. "He’s a mid-tier researcher. Specializes in toxic compounds and antidote development. His work is... effective."
"And unofficially?"
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Unofficially, most of us try not to work near his station. He’s not well-liked, but he gets results, and the guild values results." The druid met Damon’s eyes. "That’s all I can say."
"Then that’s all I need."
Damon pushed through the door and stepped into the main hall. Lena was waiting just outside, her notebook clutched to her chest, her face pale with worry. The moment she saw him, she rushed forward.
"Are you hurt? Did he poison you? How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three." Damon gently lowered her hand. "And no. Your antitoxin worked. Better than you probably expected."
Lena’s shoulders sagged with relief. Then her expression sharpened.
"Leif Kjellson. That was the one who—"
"Yeah."
"I remember him. He used to hang around Matthew’s group. I never liked him."
"Neither did Matthew, apparently." Damon started walking toward the exit. "Come on. We should get back to the inn. Sera’s probably wondering where we are."
Lena fell into step beside him. "What happened to him? Leif, I mean."
"He ran. Dropped a smoke bomb and bolted out the back." Damon patted his pocket where the black vial sat heavy against his hip. "Left behind something interesting, though."
"Is that going to come back to haunt us?"
"Probably. But that’s a problem for later."
They stepped out of the Verdant Circle’s main hall and into the evening air. The sun had nearly set, painting the streets in shades of deep orange and purple. Lanterns were being lit along the main thoroughfare, their warm glow reflecting off the white stone buildings.
[DOMINION ACTIVATED]
[SERA AZURE REFUSED WORK WITH THE STORMCHASER’S]
[+300 TRIBUTE FOR SHOW OF LOYALTY TO SOVEREIGN]
’Well... that’s interesting.’
***
The Dusty Cartographer was busy when they arrived. The common room had filled with travelers and locals alike, their conversations blending into a low, constant roar. Rook had claimed a corner table near the massive wall map, a half-empty mug of something dark in front of her.
Sera was already there, her staff propped against the wall behind her. She looked up as Damon and Lena approached, and her expression shifted from curiosity to concern.
"You know, Sera... I’m touched."
Damon’s voice carried a teasing lilt, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Sera blinked. "Eh?"
"To think you’d turn down a major guild just to keep working with little old me." He wiped at an imaginary tear. "I didn’t know you cared this much."
"H-How do you even know about that?!"
"That," he said, grin widening, "is a secret."
