The intensity of Zephyr’s heartbeat was indescribable.

Although it might seem impossible, to Zephyr, who was the closest to his heart, each beat sounded as loud as a war drum, increasing in intensity as the sound of footsteps neared.

Atticus walked silently and unhurriedly towards the figure of Zephyr on the ground.

Atticus was always thinking about multiple things all at once despite not showing or acting on it.

His thoughts could change at any time depending on the current needs and circumstances.

Regardless, there was one category of thought that wouldn’t change no matter what— his revenges.

Zephyr had attacked Aurora about eight months ago, and since then, the boy hadn’t attended lectures even once.

If it had been him who was attacked, Atticus might or might not have gone this far. He might have even decided to leave it until after the academy. But to think that Zephyr had the audacity to attack his family…

Atticus would be leaving the academy the next day, but before he left, he would pay back every one of his grievances.

Even if he hadn’t been given the privilege to visit other division camps, Atticus would have demanded it.

He was literally leaving the academy for their benefit; it was the least they could do.

He couldn’t see a future where Zephyr wouldn’t pay.

The streaming water beneath Zephyr suddenly wrapped around him, raising him upwards as Atticus simultaneously reached and stood in front of him.

The intensity at which Zephyr’s whole body was shaking was so staggering that it would be impossible for him to stand if the water wasn’t supporting him.

“W-wait,” Zephyr’s voice trembled, his eyes wide as his gaze landed on Atticus standing in front of him.

However, all he got was a hammering punch that landed brutally on his mouth.

It took time for Zephyr’s brain to register the pain, but his body was living in reality.

Zephyr’s head jerked backward, his lips bursting in a fountain of blood and becoming a battered mess. The entirety of his front teeth broke into pieces, crimson blood raining on the ground.

Zephyr’s hair suddenly lit up with intensity, an instinctual reaction from the overwhelming pain that had set in.

The scenery changed, the once extravagant dining room suddenly becoming a space filled to the brim with searing hot lava. Bursts of lava erupted from multiple areas, with the figures of Atticus and Zephyr sinking into scorching lava.

Yet despite all of this, it was insanely weird because the sound of Atticus’s footsteps never once stopped.

The scenery changed once more. The scorching lava space shifted, and in the next second, the walls seemed to lengthen, the ground disappeared, and they each found themselves falling from high up in the sky.

It all felt real.

For many, experiencing what was currently happening would instill immense fear of the Nebulon family bloodline, especially considering the fact that it was done in an instant and without any preparation.

The intense rush of wind against the skin, followed by the sensation of weightlessness as though gravity was pulling one downwards—it all felt real.

However, despite all of these impressive feats, despite the fact that there seemed to literally be no ground to walk on, the sound of Atticus’s steps still sounded.

But this wasn’t the only thing that increased the intensity of Zephyr’s shaking.

A small bubble of water had enveloped Zephyr’s mouth where he had just been punched, healing him.

‘F-**,’ Zephyr stammered in his own thoughts, complete disbelief washing over him. The glow of his hair dimmed, the scenery reverting back to normal.

His eyes opened and immediately landed on Atticus, who had started circling him quietly and calmly with both arms clasped behind his back.

Zephyr had never felt so small and insignificant in his whole life. He felt like prey, as though a hunter was currently thinking of different ways to handle him.

The scenes of Atticus’s brutality played in his head. The torturing of the third years, the cruel way he had handled and broken Dell Alverian, the beating he had given Seraphin and the other third years. Was the same thing about to happen to him too?

Zephyr shivered, desperation setting in.

“N-no! Y-you can’t do this! Are you watching this happen!!!? Is the academy going to break its own rules!? I’m an important heir to the Nebulon family! My family will not stand for this!!”

Zephyr screamed at no one in particular, his hope palpable. This was the only thing he could cling to in this situation.

Zephyr could feel water coursing inside his body, its relentless pressure compressing his muscles and joints.

It had infiltrated every fiber, every sinew, causing his muscles to stiffen and lose their flexibility. The normally fluid motion of his limbs became sluggish and unresponsive, as if they were encased in a heavy, invisible shell.

His joints, usually lubricated for smooth movement, now felt swollen and immobile, the water creating a bloated, stiff sensation.

Zephyr continued shouting, but no matter how hard he screamed, one thing remained constant: the sound of Atticus’s footsteps.

This remained so until Atticus abruptly stopped, an intense chill immediately enveloping Zephyr, making him shut up.

Atticus didn’t utter a single word, not a ripple of anger on his features as he stared at Zephyr. One wouldn’t even imagine that he had come for revenge, but Zephyr knew well the devil that was Atticus.

And in the next second, he felt it.

It started gradually. To Zephyr, it felt insanely relieving, making him doubt Atticus’s intentions.

But this only lasted for a second. In the next moment, Zephyr felt pain the likes of which he had never experienced before.

The water coursing through his whole body started bubbling as its temperature increased to staggering levels.

In every single muscle and joint, in every fiber, every sinew, every organ, Zephyr felt it. The searing hot water cooking him from the inside.

It was guttural and deafening at the same time.

Zephyr screamed.

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