Once the second semester began, so did the main plot of the first volume of the Deofol's story.
Each week, a student would be found unconscious, with two wounds on their neck, akin to a snake bite… or at least a very meticulous mosquito.
The number would quickly grow from one to as many as seven victims, too.
Once the victim would wake up, they would show the same symptoms - although their health wouldn't suffer, their motivation would reach rock bottom, turning the high-achieving and competitive students into slackers.
Because that alone wasn't life-threatening, the mysterious attacks were labeled as accidents and weren't acknowledged as emergencies by the Academy's staff members.
But…
That wasn't the case for the future hero whose justice-loving heart couldn't stand such a situation.
Although he couldn't really put all of his heart into the investigation, as he was relentlessly bullied.
Not by Rotsard, mind you.
By their upperclassmen, who seemed to pick Justin as their target after his outstanding results for the end-of-term evaluation.
It was, of course, orchestrated by Vicas Lazalarius, as his inferiority complex was reaching its peak. You see, Vicas's contracted fae was a peculiar darkness attribute creature capable of sucking out someone's talent and passing it on to another.
The thing was that no matter how many promising youths were drained for his sake, Vicas could see that he was nowhere near Justin's level.
Vicas's ego was seriously hurt….
And yet, for some reason, he never even attempted to unleash his fae at Justin directly.
Well, Vicas's fae never attempted to drain Justin's talent, to be more accurate.
Nonetheless, Rotsard wasn't going to intervene in the slightest.
He was plenty busy with attending lectures, training in the cold room, and then getting tutored by Mira. Being involved with something he didn't have to, simply wasn't on his list.
…what was, though, was a mandatory encounter with Justin, but that was still far in the future, once the number of Vicas's fae's victims will pass two dozen.
That day wasn't any different than the others.
With at least a month until his mandatory future hero's motivation by bad example, Rotsard was attending lectures like always.
"..."
The third lecture for the day ended, and as the bleached-blond-haired boy was standing up from his seat to have a little walk to stretch his legs, a certain future hero bolted past his desk and out of the classroom. Whether it was an urgent nature's call or something else, it was difficult to say.
You see, usually during breaks, Justin would be called out by the upperclassmen who would find him tasks and chores to lead him away from the eyes of his friends and teachers, using the chance to mess with him. Justin acting preemptively and trying to hide wasn't something particularly surprising.
"...might as well go check whether they're not overdoing it…"
"..."
Rotsard furrowed his brows, staring at the door behind which Justin disappeared a moment before, and muttered to himself, unaware that Amelia Edemsworth was carefully observing him from her seat.
Her gaze followed him even after he exited the classroom, and her expression was a bit confusing for the onlookers.
She seemed confused, troubled, and anxious, but also intrigued in a positive sense.
She did not follow the bleached-blond-haired boy, though, instead writing something down in her notebook.
"..."
Rotsard looked around, not focusing on any of the people passing him in the hallway.
His beastly yellow eyes searched for Justin, but the silhouette of the future hero was nowhere to be found.
The bleached-blond-haired boy breathed in deeply through his nose and winced.
From the cacophony of odors, aromas, and stenches, he picked up the trail.
"..."
Rotsard gritted his teeth without realizing it, as the smell he had memorized against his will was accompanied by a faint trace of something metallic.
Blood.
…although for some reason Rotsard could pick up that it wasn't blood from a fresh wound… not exactly... but he couldn't quite figure out the difference.
In the deofol's story, Justin certainly wasn't supposed to be bullied to the point of losing blood, that's for sure. It really annoyed Rotsard.
He was humiliating himself for the sake of the world, only for some cretins about to ruin it all while getting too physical with HIS enemy?
Un-fucking -acceptable!
Rotsard tensed up, with veins popping up on his forehead, neck, and forearms as his fingers curled up but not quite closed into a fist.
Where exactly did that peasant go?
Was he taken somewhere?
Rotsard thought to himself while following the scent… It certainly seemed to be leading into the bathroom…
"...hmm…?"
And Rotsard's annoyance certainly peaked when he noticed that a small group of upperclasmen entered that very bathroom.
Crudely, definitely searching for something, or someone, and not to use it for its intended purpose.
With expression drained from his face and murder in his beastly eyes, Rotsard followed, entering the room just in time to witness one of the upperclassman slamming open the stall's door while the others waited to grab the unfortunate student inside.
…only that the one picked was empty…
"It's occupied! Get the hell out of…!"
"Shut the hell up, Liam!"
The student closest to the entrance spotted Rotsard and scoffed aggressively, but he was smacked over the head and hastily scolded by one of his friends.
"Unless your family is one of the main ones, you better watch your fucking tone!"
"...!"
As Rotsard was walking past them, going further in, he glared up at the rude upperclassman and snarled at him, baring his teeth, looking as if he was about to lose it, causing the aggressive student to take a step back.
The bleached-blond-haired boy wasn't about to fly off the handle just because someone talked rudely to him.
That was only the beginning.
With the scent in the air and the actions of the upperclassmen, Rotsard already figured out what he should do to resolve the current situation…
…and he absolutely hated the idea of what he was about to do…
Helping a peasant.
Doing something so embarrassing and shameless for a peasant…!
A FILTHY peasant!