Falcoa: "Who the hell are you?"
Falcoa’s men began to rise one by one, and the quick-witted hostesses quietly slipped away.
The most surprised person was Amy.
Amy: "Shirone? How did you...?"
Seeing that Amy was unharmed, Shirone delayed his response and glared at Falcoa.
The man sitting at the head of the table, legs crossed. He didn’t look like a monster, but his aura made it clear he wasn’t normal.
’He’s strong, that man...’
It’s easy to exude killing intent. But the overwhelming feeling that froze your bones was the aura of professionals who specialized in killing.
’Why is Amy with someone ...’
The fact that there was a glass of alcohol in front of Amy, who enjoyed tea and coffee, made Shirone feel guilty.
Shirone: "Let’s go, Amy."
There was no response.
Perhaps because there were other things she wanted to hear from Shirone when they met again.
Shirone’s gaze turned to Falcoa.
Shirone: "Let my friend go."
Falcoa: "Pfft! Who do you think you are? Kid, do you even know where you are? Even nobles need to be careful. Especially in the basement of a high-end place ."
Falcoa gestured with his chin.
Falcoa: "What are you doing? Send them back."
Underling: "Where should we send them, boss?"
Falcoa’s men approached with menacing looks.
Their aura was on a different level from anyone Shirone had faced before.
Tes’s hand moved toward the hilt of her sword.
Tes: "Shirone, be careful. All of them are Schema users."
Shirone’s eyebrow twitched.
Tes’s words were likely accurate, but it was strange that every thug living on an island, not even inland, was a Schema user.
’What’s the deal with these guys?’
At that moment, a powerful emotion emanating from one of Falcoa’s men struck Shirone’s mind.
Tes: "Stay calm, Shirone. It’s Pressing."
Pressing, classified as an "eye technique" in Schema, twisted the opponent’s metabolism with intense killing intent.
From the recipient’s perspective, it felt like an arrow was aimed at their face, and in severe cases, it could cause suffocation.
Shirone had experienced it before from Adel, the head butler of the Karmis family, so he wasn’t panicked, but the quality of the emotion was on a different level.
Adel might have been stronger, but these men were exuding killing intent with the genuine intent to kill Shirone.
Rian, who had learned about the effects of Pressing at the swordsmanship school, hurriedly drew his dagger.
Rian: "You bastards...!"
Shirone: "Rian, wait."
The calmness in Shirone’s voice surprised Falcoa’s men.
It was Pressing from ten people simultaneously. Normally, it would be hard to even breathe, let alone speak.
But Shirone remained composed. He even had the leisure to scan the room as if mocking them.
Only Amy, who understood Shirone’s level, could comprehend this situation.
’This level of pressure can’t shake his unbreakable spirit. In a way, it’s similar to my Red Eye.’
As Shirone slowly stepped forward, the men retreated as if pushed back by an invisible force.
Of course, it wasn’t easy for Shirone to endure Pressing either.
It felt like being tied to the ground, waiting for a carriage to run you over.
To be more precise, it was the moment the carriage arrived, and the massive wheels filled your vision with terror.
But he could endure it. His spirit remained unshaken, even by 1%, which was why it was unbreakable.
’It’s just an emotion given by others.’
As long as his own heart didn’t break, he could overcome any external fear.
Shirone continued to advance at a steady pace.
Underling: "W-what the hell!"
As the men retreated to the tables, Falcoa’s face twisted in anger.
Falcoa: "You idiots! What are you doing? Cut his throat!"
Falcoa’s voice seemed to act as a living weapon for his men, as they snapped back to attention.
Finally, their hands moved to their sides, and each drew their swords.
Underling: "Damn it! This is embarrassing!"
The space was too narrow for many to fight, but the ten men formed a seamless formation and charged. Their coordination alone showed their combat experience.
Shirone simply watched.
And in the next moment, light erupted from his body. The dim room instantly turned as white as a blank canvas.
Underling: "Damn it!"
Falcoa’s men, being users of eye techniques, narrowed their pupils like cats.
Even after drastically reducing the amount of light entering their eyes, everything still looked blurry.
’Why is it so bright?’
Even the brightest midday in the southern country wasn’t this intense. It surpassed natural levels.
The men adopted defensive stances to buy time.
And finally, the blinding light completely disappeared.
No one in the room moved, and even Falcoa stared at Shirone with a dazed expression.
Falcoa: "What the hell was that?"
A sphere of light floating in Shirone’s palm seemed to be aimed at all of them.
Amy stood up abruptly.
Amy: "...Could it be?"
The chaotic vibration of photons, impossible to gauge, foretold the power of the Photon Cannon.
In a confined space, dodging magic was difficult. Casualties could occur.
Amy: "Wait, Shirone! If you do that...!"
Before she could finish, Shirone raised his arm holding the Photon Cannon high. He glared at Falcoa and then slammed the sphere of light into the ground with all his might.
The ground seemed to collapse, and a thunderous roar exploded in the room.
Beyond fear, it was impossible to endure the pressure without doing so.
Shockwaves, sound waves, and all the resulting aftershocks swirled through the room.
The ground rippled like waves, and dust rained down from the ceiling.
Falcoa’s men were in disarray, as if they had been hit by a natural disaster.
The lingering echoes of the roar still wouldn’t leave their ears.
It took a while before the men could even look at where Shirone’s magic had struck.
Surprisingly, the floor wasn’t deeply gouged, but the affected area spanned over four meters in diameter.
’This is underground...’
This was the temple, the most heavily fortified palace in Galliant, built like a bunker.
To create a space of this scale underground, a construction method focused on durability was essential, and in fact, steel plates were embedded in the temple’s floor.
Conversely, the fact that the steel plates were crushed meant the entire underground had shaken.
In short, it was a level of force no human could withstand.
True to their veteran status, Falcoa’s men didn’t cry. But the fact that no one could approach Shirone spoke volumes.
Falcoa’s expression twisted again.
Not only had Shirone withstood the Pressing of ten men, but the magic he had just used was something Falcoa, who had seen countless battlefields, had never witnessed before.
Falcoa: "Who are you? Which line are you from?"
The massive network of mages connecting the continent was called the "Line."
It was an unfamiliar term to Shirone, but in battlefields, it was the second most common question after organizational affiliation.
Shirone didn’t speak about what he didn’t know. He simply stated his origin with confidence.
Shirone: "I’m Shirone from Alpheas Magic School."
For nobles, their origin was a powerful calling card, but in any situation, it could also be a shackle.
Shirone, who had been harshly treated at the harbor, couldn’t possibly be unaware of this. So why had he revealed his origin?
Falcoa: "What, a student? That’s ridiculous. You’re not even a mage, and you’re causing trouble? Do you know what will happen if I report you to your school? You’ll be finished. Probably expelled."
Shirone: "Do what you want."
Falcoa’s eyebrow twitched at the unexpected response.
Falcoa: "Disciplinary action or expulsion, I don’t care. Such things won’t dictate my life. Of course, the school is important to me. But there are things in this world far more precious than that. And Amy..."
Shirone glared at Falcoa.
Shirone: "Is at the top of the list of things I value."
Rian and Tes glanced at Amy.
There was no change in her expression, but she seemed to be holding her breath.
Shirone: "Sue me or do whatever you want. But Amy won’t stay here a second longer. If you ever drag my friend to a place again, I’ll really destroy you."
As if agreeing with Shirone, Rian pointed his dagger at Falcoa.
The sheer size of the dagger, as tall as a person, created an overwhelming sense of intimidation.
’My eyes weren’t wrong.’
Shirone always knew what was important.
Rian: "Right, Shirone. Are you afraid of disciplinary action and would endanger your friend? That’s a joke. Ozent Rian has never lived like that, not even for a moment."
Tes: "Hohoho! Elzan Tes is the same! We can’t leave Amy, the mascot of the Shirone faction, in a den of thugs ."
Rian gave Tes a bewildered look.
Rian: "Since when are we the Shirone faction?"
Tes: "Just let it slide for now. You’re so clueless."
Tes then glanced at Amy.
Amy was lost in her own thoughts, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with her fingers.
As a fellow woman, she could guess.
To Shirone, Amy wasn’t just a dot in an omniscient perspective. She was an irreplaceable friend, or perhaps something more.
As Shirone took a step forward, Falcoa’s men flinched and retreated.
But his destination wasn’t them—it was Amy, sitting beside the head of the table.
Shirone extended his hand and spoke again.
Shirone: "Let’s go, Amy."
As Amy stood up from her seat, Falcoa’s face flushed with shame.
A bunch of thugs had caused a commotion, and now they were just going to leave as they pleased?
’Has the great Falcoa fallen this low?’
It had already been five years since the entire organization had hidden on the island to evade the continent’s pursuers. Though many things had happened, for him, who had always been on the battlefield, everything was just boring.
As a result, his brain had become addicted to drugs, and his once bloodthirsty mind had grown dull.
But five years ago, Falcoa had roamed the continent and won countless battles.
Falcoa: "Hey, you don’t actually think you can leave here safely, do you? You’re all going to die today."
Amy turned to look at Falcoa.