"Instructor Verrick."
The name was blown like mist in the air and hung like folds of Nclai thoughts. Their veins opened, and the blood rushed and throbbed in their bosoms. A roaring under his body.
The ropes that were tied round his waist and ankle were cruel. Cold. Suffocating. Weakly glowing with rune symbols, upgraded and fortified with black art techniques mana traps.
That undoubtedly was the work of Verrick.
Nclai strained. His fingers twitched, ready to bend the blood inside him... but the bindings pulled tighter, restricting every movement. Too risky to force.
Verrick approached, a cruel smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
"You've been troublesome, Nclai," the instructor said, his tone light with amusement. "I warned them you were unpredictable. What a shame they didn't listen." He leaned forward, tapping Nclai's cheek. "That's what makes you so interesting. A weapon that doesn't understand its own edge."
Nclai's chest tightened.
His blood stirred under the surface, bubbling. The air around him sharpened.
Blood Sensitivity: Passive.
He tasted Verrick's blood. Controlled, simmering with eagerness. But beneath it...
Fear.
Too calm, too casual. Verrick wasn't fully confident.
"Did you really think I'd fall into your trap?" Nclai asked, voice composed.
Verrick grinned. "No," he murmured. "You walked into mine."
With a sharp twist of his wrist, the chains flared green. They constricted hard.
"Ouch…"
A stab of pain lit up Nclai's side. Sudden. Sharp.
His eyes flickered red.
Eyes of Verdict: Active.
his authority smouldered like fire, bent toward Verrick. Making efforts to tear it in pieces. But exceptionally the face of Verrick remained unshaken.
He created a blade out of pure mana in his free hand.
there was another snap of the chains, and Nclai was a prisoner again. The agony pierces through his mind.
He wouldn't lose. Not here.
Blood Control: Active.
His blood twisted beneath his skin. Alive. His hand clenched, drawing power inward.
...