Volume 02, Chapter 23

  Surprise Attack

  After a short drive, the limousine rolls to a gentle stop in front of my house. The quiet hum of the engine fades as Butler Max opens the door for me.

  “See you tomorrow, Doms,” Arthur calls, grinning from the backseat.

  “See you too,” I reply, stepping out and waving as the limo glides away into the dimming evening.

  Vroom!

  The sound of the engine fades into the distance, leaving me alone with the soft rustle of the wind and the quiet creak of my front gate. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before heading inside.

  I open the door.

  Fwoosh!

  A dark blade materializes inches from my face, its cold edge shimmering with ominous energy.

  “Wha—?!”

  Shock freezes me in place. My heart jumps into my throat, but I can’t even move. Standing on the other end of the blade is André, his expression shifting from battle-ready to mortified in an instant.

  “D-Dominic!” he stammers, hastily making the sword vanish into thin air with a flick of his hand. “I’m sorry—I thought—”

  I stand there, still mute, my mind reeling. I hadn’t felt the danger at all; my instincts hadn’t warned me. For someone who could feel a punch coming from Arthur, the fact that André caught me completely off guard sends a chill down my spine.

  What just happened?

  The answer clicks in my mind almost immediately—André must have sensed the Demon Orb’s presence. Even concealed, its energy must have been like a flare to someone like him, whose affinity for Dark magic would make him hyper-aware of anything demonic.

  His gaze shifts to the briefcase I’m holding, his frown deep and curious. “Dominic… is that a Demon Orb?”

  His tone is calm but carries a weight that makes my shoulders tense. André doesn’t ask questions lightly.

  “Uh… yeah,” I admit, my voice quieter than I intended.

  He looks between me and the briefcase, his expression unreadable. The intensity in his stare is unnerving, like he’s assessing whether I’ve just brought a live bomb into the house.

  “Where did you get this?” he asks, his voice low but steady.

  I swallow hard and begin explaining—how Arthur and I went to the Galerie des Trésors, the auction, and how it was part of our celebration after the Stargate raid. I keep my explanation calm and concise, hoping to reassure him that it wasn’t some reckless decision.

  André’s brows relax slightly as he listens, though his eyes remain sharp. “Can I see it?”

  I hesitate for only a second before carefully placing the briefcase on the table. The latches click open with a faint metallic sound, and I lift the lid, revealing the faintly glowing Demon Orb. Its swirling purple energy pulses gently, casting soft shadows across André’s face.

  He takes it in his hands, holding it carefully as though it’s alive. His expression shifts, something between admiration and wariness. I watch silently as his eyes narrow, analyzing the orb’s energy.

  “Dominic,” he finally says, his voice tinged with intrigue, “this is no ordinary Demon Orb. It’s of very high quality.”

  His words catch me by surprise. Arthur hadn’t mentioned anything about its rank or value.

  “Really? What rank is it?” I ask, trying to mask my excitement.

  André’s fingers hover over the orb, as if feeling out its mana signature. A thin stream of dark mana swirls faintly around his hands before fading. “Judging by the density of mana it’s emitting, I’d say it’s an [A]-rank orb.”

  An [A]-rank? My heart skips a beat. That’s far beyond what I expected.

  The implications hit me immediately. A purified [A]-rank orb would provide a huge amount of mana—enough to form a substantial reserve, even for someone transitioning into a Manaficial. If I can find the character from the web novel capable of purifying it, this orb could change everything.

  “That powerful, huh?” I manage, my voice steady, though inwardly, I’m trying not to let my excitement show.

  André deliberately places the orb back into the briefcase, snapping the lid shut. He turns to me, his expression stern but no longer hostile. “You’ve stumbled onto something dangerous, Dominic. A Demon Orb like this can attract unwanted attention—especially if word gets out.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I promise.

  Just as I digest André’s assessment of the Demon Orb, a blur of movement catches my attention.

  -Whap!

  Out of nowhere, Celine emerges, brandishing a broom like a weapon of justice and smacking André squarely on the head.

  “Ow!” André yelps, stumbling slightly as he reaches up to rub the impact site. He spins around, bewildered, only to find Celine standing there with an unwavering glare that could turn lava into ice.

  “What was that for?!” André protests, his voice a mix of confusion and indignation.

  “You tried to stab Dominic!” Celine scolds, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her tone leaves no room for argument.

  “But—but I thought there was a demon!” André stammers, his earlier certainty dissolving into a weak attempt at self-defense.

  I blink, standing awkwardly with the briefcase in hand as I take in the scene. Family dynamics in the E?eforte household truly are something else. Part sitcom, part battlefield, with the occasional swordplay to keep things interesting.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you almost sliced Dominic in half,” Celine fires back, her voice sharp enough to rival André’s sword.

  André opens his mouth as if to argue further, but one look at Celine’s piercing glare is enough to silence him. He grumbles something under his breath, clearly accepting his defeat.

  Then, as if flipping a switch, Celine turns her attention to me. Her expression softens into a warm, radiant smile that immediately dispels the earlier tension.

  “Welcome home, Dominic. You’re just in time; dinner is ready!”

  “Uhh… yeah.”

  The words stumble out of me before I can gather my thoughts. The rapid shift from a potential life-or-death situation to Celine’s cozy, maternal welcome is enough to give anyone emotional whiplash.

  I glance between André—still sulking as he massages his head—and Celine, who’s already starting toward the kitchen as if nothing happened. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips.

  The chaos is oddly comforting.

  Despite André’s overly protective (and slightly violent) instincts and Celine’s broom-wielding justice, this is home. A place where arguments are swift, laughter is louder, and love always seems to linger in the aftermath of the mayhem.

  “Come on, kiddo,” André grumbles as he looks sheepishly at me. “Let’s eat before she smacks me again.”

  With a quiet chuckle, I follow them to the kitchen, the weight of the Demon Orb momentarily forgotten. Amid the chaos, I feel a sense of peace—a reminder that, no matter how strange my life has become, there’s still a place where I belong.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  And that, broom smacks and all, makes it all worth it.

  ════ ?★? ════

  Seated at the dining table, I can’t help but steal a glance at André across from me. He’s still rubbing the spot where Celine’s broom connected with his head, his grumbling under his breath almost comical.

  My eyes drift to the shelf where the Demon Orb now rests, encased in a glass box etched with glowing red runes. André had explained earlier that the enchanted glass neutralizes the demonic magic, ensuring no curious Magician senses “demonic energy” radiating from our house. It’s oddly reassuring, though the orb still feels like a lurking secret.

  Before I can think too deeply, my stomach growls, loud and proud, a reminder of more immediate priorities.

  “Here’s the food.”

  Celine’s warm voice pulls my attention back to the moment. She enters with a large tray balanced effortlessly in her hands, moving with a precision that speaks to years of experience.

  She places it down, unveiling a dish that looks like it belongs in a five-star restaurant. Before us sits Coq au Vin, chicken braised to perfection with wine, mushrooms, onions, and garlic. The aroma wafts through the air, intoxicating and irresistible.

  -Grrrrowl!

  My stomach betrays me with another loud protest. Traitor.

  “Bon Appétit!” Celine announces cheerfully, her tone carrying both pride and expectation.

  My fork is already in motion the moment she steps back, stabbing into the tender, wine-soaked chicken with enthusiasm that borders on feral.

  “Dominic!” Celine’s voice rings sharp with maternal authority, freezing me mid-bite.

  I pause, fork halfway to my mouth, cheeks burning. I look up to see her staring at me with an expression between disbelief and exasperation.

  “Manners!” she reminds sternly.

  “Uh… sorry, Mum,” I mutter sheepishly, scratching the back of my head with my free hand.

  It’s a moment of resolve—one where I should correct myself. But then the chicken hits my taste buds.

  Heaven.

  My fork moves almost involuntarily as I take another enthusiastic bite.

  -Crunch! Munch!

  “Dominic!”

  “S-Sorry, Mum!” I blurt between mouthfuls, trying to chew faster to placate her.

  Celine places a hand on her forehead, shaking her head in disbelief. “You used to have such lovely table manners. What on Sylvestria happened to you?”

  Before I can answer, André—my unsung savior—jumps in with a grin, waving his fork like a general coming to my rescue.

  “Come on, Celine, let the boy eat. Dominic’s just been through a [E] ranked Stargate raid. If anyone deserves to enjoy their dinner, it’s him.”

  I glance up at André, silently thanking him for the lifeline. He winks back in solidarity, and I can’t help but grin.

  Celine sighs deeply but relents, muttering something about “boys will be boys.”

  “Just… try not to inhale the food,” she says, her voice softer now, though her sharp gaze still lingers.

  “Got it, Mum,” I reply with mock solemnity, earning a small smile from her despite herself.

  The tension dissolves as André, ever the peacekeeper, raises his glass of sparkling water in a toast.

  “To Dominic—Sylvestria’s fastest eater and our resident Stargate Raider.”

  I roll my eyes at his teasing but can’t help smiling.

  “Cheers,” I say quietly, lifting my own glass.

  With the atmosphere lightened, I dive back into the meal, trying to eat more slowly. The food is too delicious to resist completely, though I make a mental note to practice better table manners when dining with Celine.

  Amid the cozy clinking of forks and the warm banter filling the room, I can’t help but feel a rare sense of peace. Moments like these remind me what home truly is—a place of safety, comfort, and, occasionally, broom-induced discipline.

  And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  ════ ?★? ════

  Stepping onto the middle school grounds, the familiar chaos of students rushing to class greets me, yet something feels off. The usual morning chatter and playful banter are overshadowed by hushed whispers and speculative glances, all of which seem to follow me.

  “Did you hear Lumi Everheart challenged him to a duel tomorrow?”

  “Wait, really? Why him? He’s Manaless, isn’t he?”

  “She probably wants to prove that a Manaless couldn’t possibly raid an [E]-ranked Stargate. It’s gotta be a fluke.”

  Their words swirl around me like an invisible storm, a constant reminder that my duel with Lumi is now the topic of conversation. I grit my teeth, staring straight ahead as I push through the crowd.

  How does word spread so fast? I shouldn’t be surprised. Lumi had issued the challenge so publicly, and with her reputation, it was inevitable the whole school would know by morning.

  I don’t like the attention. My stomach knots as I catch glimpses of curious faces and smirking skeptics. This duel isn’t just a personal challenge; it’s a spectacle for everyone else.

  “Hey, Doms!”

  Arthur’s voice cuts through the noise like a lifeline. His familiar presence, paired with the casual way he slings an arm over my shoulders, feels grounding—like the chaos fades the moment he shows up.

  He matches my pace effortlessly, flashing me his usual easygoing grin. “I heard Lumi challenged you to a duel.”

  I let out a long, resigned sigh. “Yeah.”

  Arthur raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And you didn’t think to tell me yesterday?”

  There’s no accusation in his tone, just playful surprise. It’s like he expected me to have delivered the news with a dramatic flourish or at least a full recount over dinner.

  “You didn’t ask,” I reply, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips.

  Arthur blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Touché.” He ruffles my hair with his free hand, his chuckles earning a few curious looks from passing students. “I’ll give you that one.”

  Despite the whispers and the stares lingering like shadows, Arthur’s presence eases the tension pressing against my chest. He doesn’t look at me with pity or doubt—just the same unwavering confidence that makes it feel like, somehow, I’ve already won.

  We turn a corner, and Arthur gives me a sidelong glance, his grin softening. “You nervous?”

  I hesitate, glancing at the floor momentarily before meeting his gaze. “Maybe a little.”

  He nods like that’s the most normal thing in the world. “Good. Nervous keeps you sharp. Just don’t forget—you’ve got this.”

  I don’t reply, but his words settle something inside me. The anticipation of the duel still looms heavy in my mind, but with Arthur at my side, it doesn’t feel quite so impossible.

  “By the way,” Arthur begins, breaking the comfortable rhythm of our steps as we weave through the bustling school corridors. “What happened with the Demon Orb after you got home yesterday?”

  I let out a small sigh, already anticipating his reaction. “I left it at the house, and Dad almost cut me in half, thinking I was a demon breaking into my own home.”

  Arthur freezes mid-step, blinking at me for half a second before bursting into loud and unrestrained laughter.

  “HAHAHAHA!” The sound bounces off the walls, drawing curious glances from other students. He clutches his stomach dramatically, stumbling a little as he tries to regain composure. “Wait—seriously? Uncle André thought you were a demon? That’s—” he snorts between gasps of air, “—that’s gold, Doms. Pure comedy!”

  I stop walking and stare at him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Funny?”

  Arthur nods vigorously, still wheezing. “Yeah, think about it! Your dad—a trained swordsman who’s probably fought real demons—mistakes his son for one and goes full ‘defender of the house’ mode. It’s hilarious!”

  “Glad to know my brush with death is such quality entertainment for you,” I deadpan, though I can already feel a reluctant grin pulling at my lips.

  Arthur finally manages to calm down, though the occasional chuckle still escapes as he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. He claps a hand on my shoulder, grinning like he’s just heard the year's best joke.

  “Hey, come on—it’s funny in hindsight, right? You’re fine, and it shows how your family has your back… even if they’re enthusiastic about it.”

  I roll my eyes, but the warmth in his words isn’t lost on me. “Over the top, you mean.”

  “Exactly.” Arthur flashes me a mischievous grin. “They don’t do half-measures, I’ll give ‘em that.”

  I exhale sharply, the reluctant grin on my face finally breaking into something more genuine. “Okay, okay… I guess it’s a little funny.”

  “A little?” Arthur repeats, feigning offense as he nudges me with his elbow. “Come on, Doms, if you weren’t living it, you’d laugh your head off too.”

  With the distance of a day and Arthur’s laughter still ringing in my ears, I can’t help but see the absurd humor in it all—André’s deadly serious face, the gleaming sword, my frozen panic. For all the chaos, it’s a strange comfort to know that my new family’s first instinct is to protect, even if it’s me they’re trying to slice in half.

  “Fine,” I concede, shaking my head with a small chuckle. “It’s kind of funny.”

  Arthur grins triumphantly, slinging his arm back around my shoulders as we continue down the corridor. “That’s the spirit, Doms. If Lumi tries to freeze you tomorrow, just picture André mistaking her for a demon, too. That’ll give you a good laugh.”

  I groan, but it’s hard not to smile. With Arthur around, even the craziest situations somehow seem lighter.

  And honestly? I’m starting to see the humor too.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the Manaless.”

  The all-too-familiar taunt cuts through the chatter of the hallway. Turning, I see Renard striding toward us, flanked by a couple of new faces who look like they’ve been hand-picked to be his latest lackeys.

  Great. What now?

  I can’t help but that he is walking rather peculiarly—the exact spot where I had kicked him previously. Seeing it brings a smirk to my face.

  “What do you want, Renard the Ruined Walnut?” I fire back without missing a beat. “Didn’t they teach you how to dodge in ‘Wannabe Bullies 101’?”

  The words hang in the air like a punchline, earning a loud snort of laughter from Arthur.

  “Pfft—HAHAHAHA! ‘Renard the Ruined Walnut’? That’s gold, Doms!” Arthur cackles, doubling over, thoroughly enjoying himself.

  Renard freezes, his face contorting in a mix of anger and disbelief as if his brain short-circuited, trying to process what just happened.

  “Wha—what did you just call me?”

  “Sorry,” I reply with mock concern, tilting my head. “Is your hearing busted, too? Should I speak louder for you and your cheer squad over there?” I glance at his new lackeys, who suddenly look less confident, shuffling awkwardly behind him.

  The hall around us starts to buzz as students stop to watch.

  “Is Renard picking another fight with Dominic?”

  “Yeah, but Manaless isn’t backing down. Did you hear what he called him?!”

  The murmurs spread like wildfire, and I can see Renard’s confidence crack as the crowd shifts their attention to me. It’s subtle, but I can feel it—people watch me differently. The old Dominic would’ve curled up under this scrutiny, but I’m not that Dominic anymore.

  Renard’s jaw tightens, his bandaged side rising and falling with frustrated breaths. “Tch! Consider yourself lucky, Manaless. I don’t have time to waste on you today.”

  He spits the words like venom, but they lack the sting he’s looking for. Turning sharply on his heel, he stomps away, his so-called “goons” scrambling to follow.

  Arthur straightens, still wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Renard the Ruined Walnut. I can’t get over it. That was brutal, Doms.”

  I roll my eyes but can’t fight back a grin. “What can I say? He sets himself up for it.”

  Arthur nods, still chuckling. “True. Though seriously, what’s his problem?”

  I shake my head, exhaling as the tension dissipates. “No clue. And honestly, I don’t care.”

  The whispers around us fade as students return to their routines, the impromptu audience dispersing. I adjust my bag, nudging Arthur with my elbow.

  “Come on, let’s get to class. I’m not looking for another lecture on punctuality.”

  “Lead the way, Manaless Legend,” Arthur jokes, earning an eye roll but a smile from me.

  As we make our way through the hall, I can’t help but feel it: the shift. I’m not invisible anymore—not to Renard or the students watching.

  And the best part? I’m not afraid of that attention anymore.