CHAPTER 90: DEFEAT AND HUMILIATION

The Reliquary,

Inside the Reliquary, silence pressed down like a weight.

Ron and Lia stood tense, their auras still flaring in defense—blue fire rippling around Ron, pink winds curling sharp around Lia.

But the enemy before them wasn’t striking.

Arin stood rooted in place, locked in his partial thunder mode, hair spiked, lightning crawling faintly across his body. His chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. Yet his eyes—once burning with rage—were now blank, glassy, staring through them as if he wasn’t truly seeing.

His lips moved, cracked words leaking out like broken glass.

"...failed..."

"...yet... again..."

"...again... again..."

Each word quivered, carried on the faint hiss of his lightning. His fists, still bloodied from earlier, shook at his sides.

Ron narrowed his eyes, the heat of his flames steadying. This isn’t the same person I know . Something’s wrong...

Beside him, Lia’s heart hammered, her fingers tightening on her blade. Her breath caught at the sight—Arin wasn’t raging now, but there was something far worse in his vacant expression. She whispered, almost pleading, "Ron... this doesn’t feel right. He’s... acting dangerous."

Ron’s voice was low, calm but firm as he squeezed her hand again.

"Stay with me, Lia. No matter what he does."

The shop felt colder. The rows of weapons gleamed faintly under the dim light, shadows stretching unnaturally long.

And still, Arin’s muttering filled the silence.

"...again... again... why...? system... why...? why him... not me...?"

Each whisper grew more distorted, more unstable—like a storm building without warning.

Arin’s hollow eyes suddenly snapped back to life, burning with raw fury. His trembling lips stretched into a snarl as he screamed, his voice cracking like thunder itself.

"GOD DAMMIT!!!"

The air quaked with the force of his rage. His head jerked toward Ron, veins bulging across his temple, eyes gleaming with hatred so sharp it could cut.

"It’s because of you!!!" he roared, spittle flying as he pointed a trembling hand. "YOU BASTARD!!!"

Then—ding!

A sharp chime rang in his ears. A crimson-edged window materialized before his eyes.

[(Skill Activated)

My Story (EX Rank)

Complete Thunder Mode (Temporary) – Granted.]

A twisted smirk curled across Arin’s face as his aura surged wildly.Bluish-green Lightning didn’t just crackle around him now—it detonated, bursting outward in jagged arcs that almost scorched the very racks of weapons. His hair stood more violently , his eyes glowing with a feral gleam as the power doubled—no, tripled—until even the reinforced shop walls groaned under the pressure.

Ron’s blue flames wavered in the violent storm. Lia’s pink wind butterflies scattered, flickering back around her blade with renewed urgency but pales in comparison to arin’s aura.

"You bastard..." Arin muttered, voice low, shaking with barely contained wrath. Then he bellowed, "YOU BASTARD!!!"

A spear of pure lightning burst into existence within his grasp, humming with unstable energy. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, thrusting with killing intent blazing.

Arin roared as he lunged, spear aimed straight for Ron’s chest, lightning howling like a beast set free. Ron and Lia braced—the blue inferno surging higher around Ron, Lia’s pink butterflies swirling into a protective cyclone around her blade.

But then—

CRACK!

Everything froze in an instant.

The spear tip stopped. Not by fire, not by wind—but by two fingers.

Arin’s eyes widened. His entire thunderstorm shrieked and sparked violently, yet it could not move forward. His weapon was held like a child’s toy.

"...Wha—" Arin’s voice cracked.

Standing in front of him was a stocky, rough-looking dwarf with snow-white hair tied back, a black headband wrapped around his forehead. His thick arms bulged with wiry muscle, veins glowing faintly with runic light. His blue eyes glared, sharp with anger and disappointment.

Durak.

"You dare raise weapon in my store... brat?" Durak’s gravelly voice rumbled like stone grinding against stone.

And before Arin could move, a shimmer ignited behind him.

A blade of pure emerald energy, thin as a whisper, hovered at his throat. The calm, yet heavy presence behind him made the hair on his neck stand on end.

"...That’s enough, brat," Isilme’s voice came low and cold, eyes no longer smiling, but sharp like a forest ready to swallow intruders whole.

Arin’s body stiffened, caught between a crushing dwarf’s grip and a blade ready to slit his throat. His thunderous aura sputtered, chaotic, but contained.

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed in the shop.

"Ron!! Lia!! What’s—"

Selene and Jax came running, their eyes widening at the scene: Ron and Lia still glowing with power, Arin’s spear frozen mid-thrust, and Durak and Isilme pinning him down effortlessly.

Arin’s eyes darted to the floating system window—nothing. The blue system window had vanished; the grant he’d tasted seconds ago had evaporated into air. He blinked, panic spiking through the crackling thunder that still clung to his skin.

My Story... where are you now? he thought, fingers clenching the haft of his javelin in desperation.This shitty system—why isn’t it working to make me win? Why My Story skill isn’t activating again?

Before he could answer himself, Durak pushed with two fingers and the impossible happened: the spear snapped. A clean, metal scream as the shaft sheared; the jagged tip clattered to the floor and skittered away into a rack shadow.

"No..." Arin croaked, collapsing to his knees. "My Tempest Javelin..."

He huddled there, muttering nonsense—words half-formed and laced with disbelief. The fullthunder aura around him stuttered, reduced now to nothing.

Isilme leaned forward, expression cold as a winter pond. His voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. "You drew a weapon in my shop. You tried to harm others and put my stock at risk. You attempted to turn this place into chaos. Get out."

Durak’s tightened his hand ; his face was a hard, angry slab of dwarf. "No, Isilme—" he growled. "You’re too soft. Trash like this? He should just die for ruining the shop."

Durak’s hand snapped out. He seized Arin by the throat with surprising speed and force, lifting the boy until his feet dangled a hair above the floor. Arin’s eyes bulged, panic and rage flaring together as he clawed at Durak’s massive forearm.

"G—gragh—" Arin choked.

A small, sharp shout cut the room like a bell. "No, Grandpa! You shouldn’t—!"

"He is a student of Astralis Arcanum. Like us," Selene spat, chest heaving. "You can’t kill him. You’ll bring the Academy wrath on you."

Durak’s knuckles whitened as he released Arin. The boy crashed to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, hair wild with static. For a heartbeat the shop held its breath—no one moved, every eye on the quivering figure on the tiles.

Durak spat to the side. "If he’s a student, then killing him make things troublesome. But hear me, brat—next time you raise a blade in my establishment, I won’t be asking."

Isilme snapped the energy blade away. His tone cooled but carried the iron of command. "Leave now. And do not come back. You are banned from here."

Arin scrambled, coughing and gasping, fingers digging into the floor as he hauled himself upright. He managed a strangled, defeated sound and stumbled for the door, shoulders shaking with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and something colder—something like the slow cracking of a mask.

As the bell over the Reliquary’s door chimed his escape, Isilme let out a long breath and exchanged a look with Durak—equal parts warning and weary pity. Lia and Ron stayed close together, Ron’s jaw set, Lia’s hand never leaving her sword hilt. Jax and Selene lingered beside them, both shaken, watching the ruined boy leaving the shop.

After Arin left, Lia folded her arms, breath still shallow. Ron let out a long hum, extinguishing his aura until only embers lingered, and his hand tightened once more around Lia’s.

Isilme exchanged a look with Durak, then turned back to the four students. "You two," he said to Selene and Jax, voice softer, "keep an eye on your friends. And you—" he gestured at Ron and Lia, "—control yourselves too."

.

.

.

Ron and Lia slowly stepped forward, holding out the weapons they had chosen—the black spear with its faintly devouring aura, and the white single-edged sword radiating a soft, pure glow.

"This... these are the weapons we picked," Lia said, her tone steady.

Durak took them into his rough hands, examining them with a practiced eye. His calloused fingers traced the shaft of the spear, then the edge of the sword, his blue eyes narrowing.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Heh... so this is the reason that brat lost his mind.He really wanted to have this spear."

Jax and Selene leaned closer, curiosity gleaming in their eyes. Even Isilme’s usually calm face tightened slightly.

Durak let out a low breath, his voice carrying weight. "These two... aren’t just weapons. They’re special. Very, very special. Even I can’t see their nature quite clearly "

The air inside the Reliquary seemed to grow heavier with his words, the racks of ordinary blades and staves around them paling in comparison to the presence of the two items now in his hands.