Bam! A slam from a buzzcut disciple's fist landed on the basalt table, leaving a web of crack on it.

The noise it made roared the entire refectory, soon followed by a mocking shout, a finger pointed at the burly man in front of him.

"You think you are all high and mighty just because you have a sponsor, and you are now a Watcher, huh?!"

Despite nighttime, the disciples having their meal would clump at the rising commotion, bringing life to the gloomy refectory on the dorm towers' ground floor.

They gathered around one table in the corner where Axel was peacefully having his meal.

"Come on, let's just take a peek!"

Horus' awaited dinner was interrupted as Eren pulled him, shoving himself into the murmuring crowd.

In turn, Horus frowned in disappointment, for he was starving and had been thinking of food since the moment Professor Malwint's class ended.

"Ah, yes! Finally, a fight!"

"Hey, who is it? Who is it?!"

As the refectory was in turmoil, veins popped off the furious disciple's head as his face flushed in sheer red, lunging at Axel with a fist covered in a blue aura.

Without words, Axel catches it effortlessly, extinguishing the faint blue aura with his, causing the young man's rage to pummel higher as he punches again and then again.

As Horus expected, nothing would hit Axel as he spars each skillfully.

Axel did not fight back, but it caused the disciple to continue attacking him with all his will.

"You stupid bumpkin!"

Another disciple at Axel's back attempts to knock him down, and Axel barely pitches as he pushes his elbow to counter its force.

"Woah, hell. This guy is no joke!"

"What a demon, man. This guy must be the one famous in the swordsmanship department."

Unaware of the sudden remarks coming from the onlookers, another guy joined Axel's opponents.

He was now in a fight against three, but he knew he could not afford to fight them back; it would put his scholarship at risk.

"Heh, why don't you fight back? You only good at sparring hits?"

The buzzcut sneered, causing Axel to sigh deeply, attempting to compose his anger.

Soon, the three started to attack simultaneously, leaving Axel with no choice: to accept his fate.

"Hiiiik! You damn commoner bumpkin acting all mighty!"

Punch, and then thump.

After receiving heavy blows, Axel plunged to the ground, letting the three batter him forcefully as he curled, arms covering his head, pitifully on cold stone.

He could fight against three but could not spar against three.

"You puny commoner, know your place-"

"Urgh-"

The rampaging assault of the three continues nonstop, leaving Axel with bruises all over his body.

Blood started to drip in his mouth as his senses continually reduced to hardly any.

'In the name of character development, I must not interfere. I must not interfere.'

At the same time, Horus kept repeating those thoughts in his head, frowning as it caused mayhem in his baffled mind.

Some part of him wanted to intrude, but his coward ass could not afford it.

He doesn't want to interfere in a fight without assurance that he will not get hurt - worse, it might even intensify the situation.

The scene in front of him had happened in the early part of the novel's second volume.

Horus knew Axel intended to withdraw his aura protecting him for a reason, letting the three injure him, perhaps making sure to secure evidence to hold onto if things get out of his way.

'Ha... that damn author. Making ways of character development as hard and typical as possible.'

Questioning his moral code, Horus felt terrible looking at Axel limping, kneeling helplessly as the buzzcut guy continues to land a series of aura-imbued punches without a halt.

Drops of blood would splat out of Axel's mouth, making Horus frown in scorn and could not believe what he was about to do.

"Enough."

Step. Everybody turned to the source of that cold, withering voice.

A sunglassed young man appeared on the scene, standing straight, hands in pocket, striding forward with a proud, arrogant smile.

"Huh?!"

"That guy is mine, Sandler."

The buzzcut guy, Sandler, turned to the grinning Horus.

The smile of satisfaction on Sandler's face faded and turned grim as the eyes of the two collided.

'I hate this.'

Horus could feel eyes all around him as he strode, observing every inch of his seemingly confident motions.

"Ah, Hoky. Long time no see!"

Sandler and his escorting disciples finally ceased.

He wipes the blood off his fists with Axel's robe and then slowly, casually reaches out a hand to Horus, initiating a handshake.

"How have you been, Hoky? You see, I'm just giving this bumpkin a lesson he will not forget-"

'He's testing me, huh?'

Thump! Horus lifted his leg and kicked Sandler's hand, dismissing the attempt as Sandler reels sidewards, clutching his hand in pain.

"Urgh-"

'Sandler was one of Prince George's and Horus' escorts in the novel; underlings don't shake hands with their superiors.'

Without giving Sandler a chance to recover from his unsteady stance, Horus quickly glides, withdraws his right hand, and lands a chop on Sandler's neck, hitting his pressure point right at the carotid artery.

"Know your place."

Sandler jolts as he drops to the floor, unconscious, like a falling rug.

In that instant, the disciples around gaped, crumbled in fright, some in bewilderment.

"I-it's a clean one-hit k-knock out-"

Even Eren behind him stiffened in fear as he whispered, thinking about what in the world just happened, as the others might have thought.

'Ah, carotid punch isn't a thing in this world...'

Sandler's two escorts rooted to their place, petrified with eyes open wide, pupils shrank in fear.

"Carry him, or want the same fate to happen to you?"

Horus pointed to Axel lying on the floor, curling in sheer pain.

He knew he needed to tend this guy soon.

Exactly two weeks from now, Axel has a scheduled duel against one of the fourth-year swordsperson that would play a crucial role in his character progression.

'Well, the academy's infirmary is not a choice. That old fart of a doctor has a bias on commoner disciples.'

"Y-yes, sir."

The two vigorously nodded as though their life was on the line as they shakily held the injured body, their shoulders acting as a crutch for Axel's arms.

"This way. Let's get him upstairs."

Horus led the way without hesitation, striding unbothered, hands in his pockets.

The onlooking disciples gathered around the unconscious Sandler, and some eyes fixed on Horus, who had just exited calmly as though untroubled by the scene he created.

On their way across - stairs after stairs - Horus felt someone following him, someone preferably bad at keeping his stealth consistent.

Sandler's escorts could not notice it, but he was sure there was.

The gentle tap on the stone floor is faint, but he can sense it, barely.

'Is it a professor?'

Without turning in a direction, Horus kept climbing upstairs, ignoring it as Sandler's escorts kept panting, sweat dribbled on their anxious face.

Soon, they finally reached the tower's sixth floor, where Horus' dorm room resides, showing the number forty-five etched on the hardwood door.

"Lay him on the bed. Be gentle."

"Y-yes, sir."

As the door creaked, the alchemy-powered lamps lit back to life as the two carefully laid Axel's unconscious body on the other bed.

Horus felt relieved he had no roommate, or things could have happened differently.

Horus recalled that in the novel, Axel became unconscious for two weeks due to this incident.

Well, it's not surprising. Axel received several concussions, after all.

Moreover, the old coot of a doctor barely tended to him when the disciples had brought him to the infirmary. If it wasn't for Axel's natural regeneration as an aura user, he could have died that time.

"Huu..."

After rummaging through his things, he deeply sighed as he yanked off his robe and strapped a pair of white gloves.

It was alchemy gloves, but he thought they should be more hygienic than his bare hands.

"Look what you have just done."

Horus casually let off those words as his eyes set upon Axel's body full of bruises, blood spread on his garments in patches.

"He could have died, you know?"

"I-it wasn't us, sir Hoky. It was Sandler's i-idea!"

The two stuttered quickly, shuddering as Horus turned to them.

'Meh, Prince George is the one behind this... Ah, this Axel is sure good at making a lot of enemies.'

Horus frowned as he started taking off Axel's robe and then his torso, showing his well-built body full of scars of all shapes.

Uneven patches of bruises and cuts would inhabit his skin, making Horus wonder how much physical damage he took from these guys' punches and Sandler's aura-imbued attacks.

Soon after taking minutes to clean each wound, Horus strapped gauzes from the head down to the toe, covering almost half Axel's entire body.

Each was firmly put and safely in place, creating enough pressure to prevent further bleeding.

He had asked Sandler's escorts to get him a bag of ice to apply a cold compress to Axel's swelling head, but as soon as he set packets of ice on Axel's head, something Horus had partially anticipated happened.

Bang! The door of his room slammed open, causing Barit and Kleip - Sandler's escorts - to stagger by the doorframe's floor.

"Mr. Durkton-"

"Gracious... Mr. Blancwit..."

Figures of various individuals came in, each showing grim on their frowned face.

Among was Headmaster Viscador himself, with Professor Malwint and Effelia on his sides.

As everybody was stone silent as they gaped around, Effelia took a step forward and reached Axel lying unconscious, ignoring the buds of bloodied cotton and bandages spread through the room.

The Headmaster hears Professor Malwint whispering with a concerned expression.

Horus could not heed it; maybe the voice was obstructed by a wind-element spell.

"Bring these two to my office."

Soon, the Headmaster's rough, tired voice caused the armored man behind to take Barit and Kleip by their arms, rendering them immobile.

The two did not try to break free and let the armored henchman take them downstairs.

It was cold, but the atmosphere was heavy, suffocating, at least for Horus, who isn't a fan of such a mood.

He frowned and sat on his bed, closing his eyes as Headmaster Viscador darts a fierce stare at him, skimming at Horus' sweat-draped face and then down his bloodied gloves that he had just taken off.

The Headmaster speaks calmly.

"Why didn't you take Mr. Axellot Blancwit to the infirmary?"

"Why do you think I did not, Headmaster?"

Horus responded, intendedly impolite, almost with a grin as he could not help it.

He knew very well that the academy's infirmary doctor was a hypocrite who prejudiced commoners - and the Headmaster was aware of this fact.

That is why the Headmaster sometimes nurses commoner students himself in his office.

The seemingly unrespectful response did not falter the Headmaster's pose, but the other figure wearing a long, white coat behind him did.

"This foul-mouthed goblin, have some respect-"

"Professor Gilligan."

Professor Gilligan, the humbug doctor of the academy's infirmary, takes one step in, face radiated rage, but the Headmaster bars his hand, showing a steely, unbothered facade.

Without choice, Professor Gilligan clicks his tongue, showing a restrained, frustrated expression.

'This irate blonde old coot of a doctor did not tend to commoner disciples, causing a backlash in the upcoming dungeon invasion by the end of the novel's second volume.'

The thought made Horus annoyed, but he contained himself since the Headmaster was about to say something, almost sighing.

"It seems like you can treat Mr. Blancwit yourself based on how you tended him skillfully."

The Headmaster and the infirmary doctor studied the flawlessly strapped bandages applied on Axel.

"Y-you did this?"

The Headmaster did not show any expression, but Professor Gilligan was flabbergasted, adjusting his round eyeglasses as he gaped.

'It was undeniably neat; flawless, to be precise. The pressure applied by the gauzes is just right, just enough for a non-fracture injury. And..., ice packets? What's the ice used for?'

The infirmary doctor, Professor Gilligan, was frustratingly impressed as he pondered.

He had been assigned the academy doctor for a decade, but the sight still astounded him.

"Well, I'll leave Mr. Blancwit in your care, Mr. Durkton. Come to Professor Gilligan if you think you need some materials."

"Say again, Headmaster? Why leave a severely injured young man to a kid-"

"Hmm?"

Professor Gilligan tries to protest, only for the Headmaster to interrupt his appeal.

Well, the infirmary doctor has a point. Based on the severity of the injuries, leaving a patient on a disciple than to an actual doctor is certainly not a good idea.

However, the posture of the Headmaster is fierce, as if he was sure of his order.

The Headmaster knew he could not assure the safety of Axel, who he seemed to as a youth of potential, to a fraud doctor who is impartial to social rank.

Horus' eyes have been shut for a while now, but they widened as they set to Effelia.

'Hmm...? Wait... no way, right?'

Hiiik. Effelia restrains a weep, eyes locked on Axel's unconscious body.

She kneels and holds Axel's hand, then she whispers.

"They will pay."

Her vibrant, porcelain skin had lost its color. It's now pale pink, fury rushing in her veins.

'They shouldn't be this close until the fourth volume, though?'

Horus could not believe the sight.

He was sure Axel and Effelia had met in the North Glimp Forest to aid the wolves, but the two should still consider themselves strangers, helping each other mutually, as in the novel.

'Did the story change?'

Horus worried if this sudden development could hinder their growth in the future or, god knows, change the entire flow of the hereafter.

"Ah, Ms. Effelia."

[ Vaporize ]

The Headmaster notices and turns to Effelia as she stealthily casts a water-element spell to evaporate her tears into thin air.

"H-headmaster, I-"

"Ah, do not bother yourself, Ms. Effelia. We will deal with the assailants, and they shall take an equivalent punishment, expulsion if so. For now, focus on your studies and role as Watchers tomorrow."

The Headmaster turns to Horus, then continues.

"You, too, Mr. Durkton... Good work."

The door creaks as the Headmaster leaves, a smile of satisfaction draped on his wrinkled face, then shortly the professors, glancing at Horus in all sorts of expressions as they exit.

Effelia was left alone with Horus, creating an awkward atmosphere in the gloomy, messy room.

Shortly, Horus had just realized that the Headmaster's eyes had laid on him, which he pondered synonymous with trouble.

Horus knew that the Headmaster was a keen eldear, often portrayed as an entity who knew how to gauge disciples to their limits - and boy, Horus would not certainly want to be subjected to it.

'Ha, fuck me.'