Something was thrown in his face.
Count Steza had never encountered such a situation in his life.
His family was wealthy and noble.
They invited the most cultured teachers to educate the children, and even these teachers dared not lay a hand on them.
And after the easiest period for education, he became even more the face of the Steza family.
Who would dare to slap the face of such a noble?
He had never even seen such a gesture, because no one dared to lose their temper in front of the Count.
What if the behavior was seen as lacking composure? Would anyone gamble their future on it?
So when Steza was slapped in the face, he was completely stunned.
But he instinctively knew this was not about physical harm, but rather an attack on dignity and character.
What he felt first wasn’t anger... but absurdity.
Someone like him was supposed to live his entire life in a bubble of luxury.
Normal air from the outside world would taste bitter to them.
Fear spread inside him, preceding anger.
Fear is normal when one encounters a form of harm they’ve never seen before.
And now, Steza confirmed another thing: Lann never left him a choice to live.
Fear felt like a massive stone weighing on his heart, growing heavier by the second.
Upon realizing he had no choices left, the stone collapsed instantly.
Steza’s once steady gaze, his pupils, began to wander uncontrollably.
His lips trembled, void of blood.
The neat appearance and beard were becoming disheveled under this continuous tremor.
Lann just watched quietly as this strong, noble man became a timid, panicked joke.
"So you should understand, my lord,"
"I received a good education, one that endowed me with a precious, comprehensive perspective. You tried to overwhelm me with a deluge of information, to confine my vision to just one Temeria. But I only feel like laughing when I hear such things."
With a creak, Lann stood up, supporting himself on the chair arm.
Steza was startled by the sound and shuddered.
Lann smiled kindly, walking behind the Count, lightly patting his shoulder with his blood-stained gloves.
With each pat, the handsome middle-aged man shivered involuntarily.
"Don’t be afraid, my lord. I’m not going to kill you now, actually..."
Looking down, the necklace around his neck began to vibrate slightly, and Lann’s smile grew even kinder.
The Count looked back in surprise, seeing only Lann’s eyes, narrowed into slits with laughter.
"Don’t be so surprised, my lord. I visited your basement. The children there are well fed and dressed; they should be thanking you."
There was something odd in Lann’s tone when he mentioned the basement, but the Count’s fear-addled brain could not process it.
"I, I can leave?! You’re not going to kill me?!"
Steza stammered in a mix of delight and astonishment.
Even with average intelligence, he should have sensed something was amiss.
But when faced with life and death, fear is the greatest trigger.
A natural reaction to fear is to flee, no matter how absurd the escape route may seem.
Steza first tested the waters by getting up from the chair. He moved slowly at first.
But seeing that Lann made no move to stop him, he gained more confidence.
He headed towards the study’s door, his pace quickening with every step.
Glancing back, he saw Lann still standing there, hands resting on the chair back, smiling as he watched him leave.
Without hesitation, the Count turned his head and continued walking, his face turning sinister and grim as he faced away from Lann.
The closer he got to the door, the more his fear transformed into anger and rage.
A Demon Hunter. A mutant bastard!
How dare he step into his manor, his study, touch him with those filthy hands, threaten him!
...He must die! Once he’s out of the room, his guards will swarm around him!
By then, that mongrel will have to die!
No... that’s not enough! His friends in Auridon... the entire Auridon must be reformed!
They must learn the wrath of a noble!
With a click, the door opened.
Steza felt warmth on his face.
In an instant, he saw his butler blocking the study door, palms closed with a swirling fireball floating inside.
Behind the butler was a large group of people.
Warriors clad in uniform armor, armed with sword and shield.
Knights in full plate armor, armed to the teeth with maces.
About a dozen people, each with a concerned yet determined look.
It was as if they were ready to shed blood and fight at any moment for their count.
Meeting these gazes, Steza’s last bit of fear dissipated instantly.
He remembered, the basement guards had a rotation system. Even without an alarm, it was time for a shift change.
So even though the manor was quiet, his butler had brought a group to the study.
And upon hearing a strange voice inside, they prepared for a fireball assault!
Steza began to smile.
He knew how excellent his guards were, and knew their loyalty to him.
Because it was all the ’power’ he had cultivated.
With this power, not just a mere Demon Hunter, but even...
As the noble Count, with a gratified and assured expression, was about to retreat into the crowd.
A familiar voice came from behind him.
The voice of the Demon Hunter.
"My lord, please squat down."
For some reason, instinctively, he complied immediately.
And the moment he squatted, he felt something sweep rapidly over his head.
The gust even pressed his hair tightly against his scalp!
That object crashed directly into the butler at the front with a look of astonishment.
It was a solid, elegantly crafted chair.
If smashed into with such force from behind, it could probably break an unarmored spine.
Steza had just heaved a sigh of relief for his timely dodge.
But in that instant, he saw the unstable fireball in the butler’s hands.
One of the basic tenets of magic: Disrupting the state of a casting wizard is extremely dangerous, both for the wizard and the onlookers.
With a pained and horrified expression, the butler was directly slammed into the warrior behind him.
The chair, the butler’s body, and the Plate Armor Warrior supporting him were instantly blown to bits by the long-prepared fireball!
Blood, wood chips, and shattered iron pieces exploded with intense force!
The fireball that exploded in the crowd’s center encompassed the entire group in its lethal radius.
Only Count Steza, curled up and crouched at the doorframe corner, with his head covered, was spared.
The ones burnt alive, the ones trapped in heated armor wailing, the ones mutilated by flying splinters...
The corridor outside the study, once serene and tasteful, turned into a noisy, suffocating hell in an instant!
Lann stepped onto the hallway, treading over flames.
He unsheathed his hunting knife and pressed against a dazed but largely unscathed Plate Armor Knight.
The opponent struggled in confusion, but Lann simply pressed against the helmet, as if holding down a chicken or duck ready for slaughter.
"Shh, shh. Quiet, quiet... just a moment."
Murmuring, the hunting knife plunged into the helmet’s visor gap.
A jet of blood spurted half a meter high.
The limbs within the armor twitched as if spasming, then grew still.
Having dealt with the only remaining combat-ready enemy, Lann wiped his knife and sheathed it.
He approached the trembling Count who clung to the door, crouching down.
The Demon Hunter smiled, saying.
"You need to pull yourself together, my lord... If you want to live, you must escape."