CHAPTER 202: ROASTED SCARLET CHICKEN

Alaric’s eyes scanned through the catalog.

Row after row of items, skills, artifacts scrolling past.

Damn. There are so many useful things here...

But his attention snagged on one particular entry.

[Intermediate Lightning Spell Pack]

[Cost: 2,200 DP]

His current lightning spell was just Lightning Bolt. A basic spell.

I need more options. More versatility.

Fire is my main path, but lightning as backup, proper lightning techniques would fill gaps.

He focused on the entry. Reading the description...

• Static Shock: A minor ranged jolt. Low damage but fast casting. Good for interrupting enemy techniques or finishing wounded targets.

• Spark: Creates a distracting flash of light and sound. Minimal damage but excellent for disorientation.

• Jolt Step: A short-range dash that cloaks the user in lightning, damaging enemies passed through. Enhanced mobility with offensive capability.

• Static Field: Creates a 5-meter aura that slows enemies and delivers minor, continuous shock damage. Area control and sustained pressure.

His jaw set. Decision made.

Purchase Intermediate Lightning Spell Pack.

The system responded immediately.

[Intermediate Lightning Spell Pack - 2,200 DP]

[Confirm Purchase?]

[Yes / No]

He didn’t hesitate.

Yes.

[Purchase Confirmed!]

[Current DP: 2,700 → 500]

[Acquiring skills...]

Lightning crackled through his nervous system.

Information flooded his mind. Technique structures. Essence flow patterns. Casting sequences.

All four spells downloading directly into his consciousness like they’d always been there.

How to shape the lightning. Where to channel the essence.

The sensation faded after a few seconds. Left him sitting there with four new tools in his arsenal.

[Skills Acquired!]

• Static Shock

• Spark

• Jolt Step

• Static Field

[Skill Tree Updated]

He pulled up his skill list to confirm.

Skill Tree:

Intermediate Lightning Spells (D): Lightning Bolt, Static Shock, Spark, Jolt Step, Static Field

Intermediate Fire Spell (B): Fireball, Flame Arrow, Burst Step

Scorchblade Arts (S): 1st Form – Flame Blade, 2nd Form – Flame Slash, 3rd Form – Blazing Mirage

Dominion’s Gaze (A)

Regnant Strike (B)

Obedience Chains (A)

Gluttony (S)

Subjects (S)

Good.

He flexed his hand experimentally. Called up a tiny amount of essence.

Crackle.

Blue-white sparks danced across his fingertips. More controlled than before. More refined.

He dismissed the sparks. Let his hand drop.

500 DP left. Not much. But enough for emergencies.

I need to earn more.

He leaned back against the wall again. Satisfaction settling over the exhaustion.

Across the hall, Elina’s training continued.

He closed his eyes. Let the exhaustion settle in properly.

Just a few minutes. That’s all he needed.

His breathing evened out. Peace. Quiet. Just the distant sound of Elina’s movements and—

Thwap!

Something hit his face.

Damp. Heavy. Smelled like sweat.

His eyes snapped open.

A towel.

It slid down his face and landed in his lap.

"Stop slacking, weakling!"

Elina stood there. Hands on her hips. That smug expression back on her face.

"Train if you wanna get strong."

She flexed her arm. Her bicep... barely bulged. Yet she looked proud as hell. Grinning.

Alaric’s eye twitched.

He grabbed the towel. Set it aside deliberately. Slowly.

Then stood.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. Knuckles cracking.

"Get the fuck out."

His voice came low.

Elina blinked. The smug expression faltering slightly.

"Or—"

WHOOSH!

Flames erupted around both his hands. Massive. Roaring. That filled the immediate space around him with searing heat.

The temperature in the training hall spiked instantly. His crimson eyes gleamed through the firelight.

" Or I’ll make a roasted scarlet chicken out of you."

His grin widened. Showing teeth.

Elina’s smugness evaporated completely. Her eyes went wide.

She took an instinctive step back.

"Y-You wouldn’t—"

"What do you say, dear sister? Wanna find out?"

Her face went from confident to uncertain in seconds.

"It was a joke—"

He tilted his head. Mock consideration.

"Nah. I think I’m hungry. Roasted chicken sounds perfect right now."

Then he took a step forward.

Elina backed up faster. Her back hit the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.

Face flushed. From pure embarrassment at being cornered like this.

"Alaric—"

"What’s wrong?" His grin turned absolutely wicked. "Afraid of a little heat?"

Her hand shot up. Pointed at him accusingly.

"I-I’ll complain to Mother that you’re threatening me! She’ll punish you for this!"

Her voice pitched higher. Alaric just kept grinning.

Elina’s courage broke completely.

She ducked. Slipped sideways along the wall.

Then bolted.

She reached the door. Grabbed the handle. Yanked it open.

Started to step through—

Then paused.

As she saw him standing there with those massive flames.

Her eyes took in the full picture.

And her lips twitched.

Pfft!

She stifled a laugh. Badly. Her hand came up to cover her mouth but the sound escaped anyway.

Then she slammed the door shut.

BANG!

The sound echoed through the training hall.

Leaving Alaric standing there. Flames still burning. Confusion flickering across his face.

Why did she?

He let the fire die. His hand came up. Scratched at his head.

"Why did she almost laugh?"

Then—

Whoosh!

Cool air hit his skin. More than it should have.

A lot more.

He blinked.

Then looked down.

And found.

His clothes were... gone.

Not completely. But close enough.

The side of his tunic had burned away entirely. Just charred fabric clinging to his shoulder before giving way to bare skin.

His pants were worse. One leg half intact. The other... basically gone.

He stood there. Half-naked.

Realization crashed in.

"Fuck."

His hand came up, covering his face.

"I forgot I was wearing normal clothes."

The fire had been intense.

And he’d been so focused on threatening Elina that he’d completely forgotten his training gear was still at the academy.

These were just regular clothes. Not reinforced.

Of course they’d burned.

She saw me standing there like an idiot. Trying to look threatening while practically naked.

[You’re lucky, host. There’s no such thing as negative allocation in system.]

Heat crept up his neck.

This is...

Fuck.

He looked toward the door Elina had escaped through.

He was talking about to make her into roasted chicken.

But instead he roasted his own damn clothes.

She’s never going to let me live this down.

Never.

He groaned. Then moved to grab his discarded cloak. At least that had survived.

Wrapped it around himself. Covered the worst of the damage.

He headed for the door. Need to get changed. Pretend this never happened.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m buying essence-resistant clothes.

This is never happening again.

But somewhere in the manor, Elina was probably already planning how to embarrass him with this story.

And he had absolutely no defense.

None whatsoever.

Fuck my life.