Finally, the dreadful day of the predestined confrontation arrived.
Rotsard's pompous words about honor and the pride of the noble would come back to bite him… not because he wouldn't be able to stand his ground, but solely because the future of the world depended on him making a fool out of himself.
The bleached-blond-haired boy wasn't going back to the cold room after the lectures were over. He wasn't even going to visit his fiancee either. The reason?
As if in anticipation, the shadowy figure of the deofol was lurking in the far corner of Rotsard's vision, undoubtedly wishing to satiate its perversion with the boy's humiliation.
Will the bleached-blond-haired youth let his honor be shattered into pieces for the good of the world, or will he destroy everything by fighting against the perfect future?
"..."
Bloodlust gleamed in Rotsard's beastly yellow eyes as he observed the shadowy figure trembling from excitement, clearly having way too much fun at his expense.
A noble makes sacrifices.
A noble endures!
Rotsard gritted his teeth and hastened his pace, going to the area where Rotsard in the story was confronted by the future hero and his to-be wife as both of them would have a misunderstanding about him being the culprit behind the fainting epidemic.
So annoy…
"WATCH OUT!"
*WHAM*
As the unfortunate third-rate villain was about to descend the staircase, someone called out urgently, and the very next moment something slammed against Rotsard's body…
"GHURGFFGH…?!"
"...?"
The bleached-blond-haired boy furrowed his brows in annoyance as a quite large upperclassman literally fell on him while letting out a rather embarrassing sound.
Rotsard didn't trip or falter at all while the upperclassman was hanging on him like a pile of fresh laundry on the backrest of a chair.
"Tsk."
*thump*
"...ughh…!"
Rotsard clicked his tongue and shook the other student off, causing him to plop on the floor with a pitiful sound.
"No running on the stairs, senior."
"...uufghh…"
Rotsard pointed out with a disgusted expression, but the upperclassman merely groaned and rolled on his side, ignoring the benevolent advice.
"Hmph."
The boy scoffed, straightening his clothes ruffled by the unwelcomed encounter, and went on as if nothing happened.
He had far more detestable things to deal with… although it would be a lie to say that this day wasn't already ever so slightly worse than he was prepared for.
"...th-that guy… I'm certain that he used a few spells before running into the Vallhall guy…!"
One of the students in the hallway, who stopped to watch the commotion, gasped and hurriedly relayed to her friend.
"Klara. You saw nothing."
Her friend scoffed at her, glaring at her.
"No, I'm serious! When that large guy passed us, I've heard him muttering a few incantations before charging at the Vallhall guy! But the Vallhall guy didn't even budge! How is that poss…?!"
"KLARA!"
"...!"
Klara was getting heated up, clinging to her friend's arm, but got startled when she was shouted at.
"You. Saw. Nothing."
"O-okay…?"
Klara's friend ignored the looks others were giving them and insisted, staring right into her friend's eyes until receiving a nod of acknowledgement. Hesitant one, but still…
The premise of the encounter this time was simply Rotsrad being at the wrong place at the wrong time, causing a misunderstanding and slightly derailing the future hero's independent investigation.
A suspicious movement was supposed to get Rotsard's attention and led him to a storage room with school supplies... right to the newest victim, an unconscious female fifth-year student.
Rotsard, in the story, would even recognize that particular girl as a classmate of his fiancee, even though the story version of him supposedly wasn't paying Mira any attention whatsoever, too busy bothering Amelia with his unwanted affection.
"...hmm…"
The actual Rotsard furrowed his brows and let out a sound of discontent.
That was all the information he had.
The problem was, even though he was at the spot at the roughly correct time…
…there was no suspicious movement to get his attention…
Was he too early?
Too late, perhaps?
Rotsard was about to enter the storage room to search it just in case, but he stopped.
He had to act suspicious anyway… and there was a certain use of his spell he wanted to try out…
"..."
Rotsard leaned back and looked to the sides with an amusing expression of someone very suspicious, trying to act coy.
The next moment, a circle of light emerged from underneath his feet and wings of light above him as he raised his hand.
"Snowball."
He chanted, and the initially tiny speck of pure-white light grew into a fist-sized sphere on top of his index finger.
"Scatter."
*poof*
At his command, and at a slight flick of his wrist, the white sphere dispersed into a torrent of fine particles, turning the storage room into a giant snowglobe.
"Huh?"
Rotsard expected either to find no one, or to discover the unconscious girl. What he didn't account for was to actually catch Vicas's contracted fae red-handed during the attack!
"Ku-kii…? Kiii-iii?!"
The way Rotsard used his spell allowed him to sense everything that came in contact with his snow, one of those things being a watermelon-sized fuzzy creature with bat wings that got startled and screeched out when the cold-specks covered it.