“So much as mutter a spell, and I’ll blow your head off,” Desmond said.
“….”
“Slowly raise your hands,” Desmond continued. “And if I see so much as a slip of parchment, I’ll pull the trigger.”
“….”
Vanitas could only comply, swallowing deeply as he slowly raised his hands.
In the game, guns were no ordinary firearms. They were a product of advanced enchantments and alchemical engineering, and were initially designed to combat rogue mages.
For the revolver, each chamber held magic bullets capable of piercing through intermediate-level barriers with ease.
While a single magic gun posed little threat to a seasoned mage or crusader, its power was undeniable.
A platoon armed with magic assault rifles could potentially bring down even a mage capable of Grandmaster level magic, depending on the circumstances.
Crusaders, with their enhanced physical resilience from years of aura training, required more shots to take down, but even they weren’t invulnerable to magic guns.
In other words, Vanitas was in very real danger.
Especially considering the revolver was aimed directly at him in point blank range.
“Answer my question. So much as lie…. You know what’ll happen,” Desmond said.
“….”
Vanitas simply nodded, his expression blank. His mind was already analyzing the situation.
This could be turned around, easily if need be, but for now, he needed information.
What did Desmond want?
More importantly, how much did he know? As far as Vanitas was aware, Desmond shouldn’t have any inkling of his involvement in his father’s downfall.
If something went awry, Vanitas was prepared to clean his tracks.
“Tell me,” Desmond began. “Why did you do that to Arwen?”
“….”
Arwen?
His mind raced. The name was familiar, but he couldn’t place a finger on it. From what he knew, he had never encountered a character named Arwen in the original game.
Desmond’s grip on the revolver tightened as he glared at Vanitas’s confused expression.
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Desmond spat. “You ruined her life. You’re the reason she—”
His voice cracked, and he stopped mid-sentence. Vanitas found the situation peculiar.
His father had been arrested, yet he was here because of some…. Arwen?
Or probably, he just wanted to tie some loose ends. After all, the Wyndale Family was done for.
He needed more information, but prying into Desmond’s emotional wound required caution.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Vanitas said. “Explain it to me.”
“Liar!” Desmond shouted.
His trembling hand pressed the revolver harder against Vanitas’s temple.
“You were her Professor! You failed her, humiliated her in front of everyone, and then you stood by while they tore her apart!”
‘Ah.’
Once again, the repercussions of the original Vanitas’s actions had surfaced, forcing him into yet another mess.
‘Arwen….’
He had to look into the matter later. He couldn’t retrieve the Spectacle at the moment. But the fact that there was a sense of familiarity in the name made him uneasy.
“Haaa….” Desmon sighed. “What am I even doing?”
The barrel of the revolver pressed harder against Vanitas’s temple, but Desmond’s grip trembled. His finger rested cautiously on the trigger.
“You know, it’s funny,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “Doing all this… and she probably never even remembered my name. Not even until her death. Haha…”
“….”
But Vanitas said nothing.
“Tell me, Professor,” Desmond continued. “You were afraid, weren’t you? A third-year student casting a grandmaster spell—something you barely achieved yourself. It must have terrified you.”
He paused, breathing heavily.
“You knew you were unqualified for your position,” Desmond spat. “So, you decided to destroy the dreams of an up-and-coming mage just to make sure your achievements didn’t look so small in comparison, right!?”
His voice grew louder. The words seemed to come from a place deeper than anger.
“You twisted everything to suit your narrative!” Desmond shouted. “You planted that so-called proof, and those Professors…. They didn’t even bother to fact-check! They just took your word for it because of your title! Admit it! I’m right, aren’t I!?”
Desmond spoke as if he was so sure of his theory.
“….”
But Vanitas merely stayed silent.
“Answer me you—”
“Let me ask you one thing,” Vanitas interrupted, his tone calm.
“….”
Desmond froze.
There was something in Vanitas’s voice. Something detached, as though the gravity of the situation didn’t even register.
Vanitas’s next words, however, were laced with indifference. His gaze cut through Desmond as though he were nothing more than garbage.
“Who is Arwen?”
The question sent a chill down Desmond’s spine.
“You fucking basta—” Desmond’s hand tightened on the trigger, but before he could fire, a sudden gust of wind exploded outward from Vanitas.
Bang—!
The force sent Desmond stumbling backward. The revolver flew from his grip as the bullet veered wildly into the air.
Desmond’s heart raced as he scrambled and reached out for the fallen revolver.
“Restrain.”
Vanitas’s calm voice echoed through the air.
The ground beneath Desmond shifted unnaturally, and jagged tendrils of earth surged upward, clamping tightly around his ankle.
The sudden restraint yanked him back. His outstretched hand fell short of the revolver.
Clink—
Desmond’s eyes widened. It was a single word, a single chant. Yet, it was enough to produce a spell.
In this era, only Soliette, the current Archmage and one of the Great Powers, was capable of such a feat.
To Vanitas, however, it was nothing more than a clever deception. His stigmata did all the work.
He simply had to fake speaking a command. He could utter any word, and with the power of his stigmata, he could effortlessly cast even a Master-ranked spell, given he had the understanding for its structure and components.
Mana surged outward as Desmond, with sheer determination, broke free from the earthen restraint.
His eyes locked onto the revolver lying just out of reach. He lunged toward it.
“Windblade.”
Vanitas’s voice was calm, almost indifferent, as a sharp gust of wind sliced through the air.
The force sent the revolver skidding further away, while simultaneously pushing him backward.
“Windblade. Windblade Windblade.”
A relentless barrage of wind slammed into Desmond, forcing him backward.
“Akh…!”
He stumbled, unable to find his footing. His attempts to retaliate were futile against the relentless barrage of Windblades.
Gritting his teeth, Desmond raised his trembling hand, desperately attempting to cast a spell.
But Vanitas’s calm voice echoed once again, and before Desmond could finish his chant, the intermediate spell—Water Cannon—materialized.
Swoosh!
The Water Cannon struck Desmond squarely. The force sent him hurtling backward until he collided with the ground.
Water splashed in all directions as the remnants of the spell dissipated, leaving Desmond drenched and gasping for breath.
However, Desmond managed to calm down.
He was no amateur.
He regained his footing quickly. His instincts took over as a barrage of Stone Cannons and Windblades hurtled toward him. This time, he was ready.
Dodging the first volley with, he raised his hand mid-motion and swiftly chanted an Earth Barrier spell.
Rumble…!
A thick wall of earth erupted between him and Vanitas’s incoming attacks, giving him just enough time to pivot and sprint toward the revolver behind him.
“Windbind.”
A current of air coalesced around Desmond’s legs, slowing his movements. He gritted his teeth as his arms reached out for the revolver.
With a desperate lunge, Desmond’s hand closed around the revolver.
“Windblade.”
But as he turned, revolver aimed at Vanitas once more, a sudden force slammed into his chest, sending him skidding back.
“Akh—!”
Vanitas walked slowly with his hands casually in his pockets, as if the fight didn’t warrant his full attention.
To Desmond, it was infuriating—and baffling.
This wasn’t how conventional mages fought. Normally, mages would rely on complex incantations, advanced spells, and overwhelming power.
But this man?
“Windblade.”
Another invisible arc of air sliced through the space between them, forcing Desmond to dodge yet again.
“Water Cannon.”
A sphere of water burst forth, slamming into the ground near Desmond and soaking him with its force.
“Stone Cannon.”
Chunks of earth spun and tore through the air like missiles, exploding toward Desmond.
He barely managed to conjure a barrier in time. The force of the impact shook his stance.
Over and over, Vanitas repeated the same beginner and intermediate spells. The speed and consistency were unlike anything Desmond had ever encountered.
The sheer relentlessness forced Desmond to stay on the defensive.
He ducked under another Windblade, leapt over a Water Cannon, and bolstered his Earth Barrier to survive the Stone Cannon that followed.
Each spell that came left Desmond no room to counterattack. His heart raced as sweat dripped down his forehead.
‘Damn it! He’s not even trying!’
Desmond gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the revolver.
His mind raced for a solution.
He couldn’t match Vanitas in speed or efficiency, but he had the revolver—a weapon that could penetrate intermediate barriers if used correctly.
“Focus…,” he whispered, aiming the revolver carefully.
Vanitas hurled another Windblade, forcing Desmond to sidestep and realign his aim.
He needed to find an opening.
“Stone Cannon.”
Another chunk of earth hurtled toward him. Desmond instinctively leapt aside, narrowly avoiding the projectile.
“Now!”
Bang—!
Desmond pulled the trigger. The magic bullet streaked straight toward Vanitas.
But Vanitas moved with almost unnatural ease. With a slight tilt of his head, the bullet grazed past him.
Bang—! Bang—!
He fired again, and again. Each shot carried desperation, and each shot missed as Vanitas effortlessly evaded.
“Damn you!” Desmond screamed. His mana flared wildly.
“Professor! What’s going—”
The commotion had caught the notice of the University guards, who were now rushing toward the scene from a significant distance away.
“….”
Desmond’s heart sank.
He was surrounded.
He hadn’t managed to land a single hit on Vanitas.
Meanwhile, his own body bore the brunt of countless minor injuries—cuts, bruises, and the toll of his overexerted mana reserves.
His breathing was labored, causing his chest to rise and fall repeatedly.
“Drop the weapon!” one of the guards exclaimed.
Desmond’s hands trembled. In that brief second of hesitation, before he could even comprehend what was happening, Vanitas was already upon him.
“Wha—”
In one fluid motion, Vanitas disarmed him, sending the revolver spinning into the air.
Before Desmond could react, an elbow drove into his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
“Guh—!”
But as if that wasn’t enough, Vanitas wasn’t done.
A sharp kick landed squarely in Desmond’s groin, sending him collapsing to the ground in agony.
He writhed in pain, clutching his lower brother as his breath came out in broken gasps.
Despite managing to stay calm under severe circumstances, the aftermath hit Vanitas belatedly.
Having a gun pointed at his head, being accused of a crime he didn’t commit, and the swirling confusion over the identity of some supposed victim….
It all boiled over.
“Stupid fucking brat.”
And Vanitas snapped.
No, to be accurate, Chae Eun–woo crashed out.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Vanitas’s boots connected with Desmond’s groin repeatedly.
“You dare threaten an adult with that sorry piece of excuse of yours?”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“You aim a gun at me? Shit. Not even my aunt did that.”
Desmond groaned, his voice barely a whisper. “P–Please…. Stop… Ukeh—!”
Vanitas wasn’t done.
“The Wyndale family is finished, huh? Well, let me personally ensure the bloodline ends with you, you sadistic little shit!”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Uh… Professor?” one of the guards finally spoke up, looking a mix of horrified and amused. “I.… I think he’s had enough….”
This was the first time they had seen the stern Professor crash out like this.
Vanitas paused mid-kick with his leg still raised. He turned to the guards.
“Has he? I don’t think so.”
He looked back down at Desmond, whose face was twisted in pain.
“You fatherless fuck—”
Thud!
The final kick landed squarely on his family jewels, and Desmond let out a weak whimper before his eyes rolled back.
“Alright. Now I’m done,” Vanitas said, brushing off his hands as if he had just taken out the trash.
The guards exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or intervene further.
One of them coughed awkwardly and took a step forward. “We’ll.… uh…. take it from here, Professor.”
“Be my guest,” Vanitas said, stepping back. “Make sure he rots in prison while you’re at it.”
The guards awkwardly hoisted Desmond’s unconscious body, dragging him away.
As their figures retreated further away, Vanitas stood there for a moment, letting the silence wash over him.
“Aigoo….” He sighed. “Soju. I need soju for this shit.”
———「Event Act: Wyndale Oppression」———
「Rewards Obtained:」
◆ Understanding: +10%
————————————