Chapter 26: The Methods of a Young Man

"The power displayed by a fifth-tier mage is far beyond what a brat like you can imagine! With your mere third-tier strength, joining this mission would only drag everyone down. And as for you, Semili, being the most powerful here, you're the soul of the entire Mage Guild, both inner and outer circles. Yet you assign personnel so carelessly, whether by neglect or intent. If anything goes wrong, you’ll bear the greatest blame!"

As House spoke, his tone grew increasingly aggressive, almost to the point of outright hostility. Semili’s delicate, almost feminine face flushed with anger, the veins on his forehead standing out. At that moment, apart from the mages who sided with Semili, the others—those unwilling to participate in the mission—began to jeer and clamor, plunging the meeting room into chaos.

House, seeing those who joined his outcry, let a sly, satisfied smile creep onto his lips. But just then, he suddenly felt a chill sweep past his face. Before he could react, Weir’s fist was already descending toward him. With a resounding thud, House’s nose was struck so hard he nearly burst into tears.

"Damned wretch! Are you seeking death?!" House shouted, clutching his nose. Though only sixteen, Weir was no small child—he had strength, and with House off guard, a punch to his fragile nose left him howling in pain.

"Hmph! The power displayed by a fifth-tier mage is far beyond what a brat like you can imagine!" Weir sneered, mimicking House’s earlier words with biting scorn. "You talk a lot, but all I see now is trash weeping over a hurt nose!"

"What did you say?!" House was incensed. He drew his wand, but before he could utter a spell, Weir rushed him once more. Another fist struck House’s fingers as he gripped his wand, nearly breaking them, followed by a merciless kick to his stomach. Though House appeared stout, it was all for show—a layer of useless fat. Weir’s kick sent him sprawling. Weir snatched the fire wand from House’s robes and, with a flick, conjured a searing flame. Before anyone could react, Weir directed the fireball straight at House’s left leg.

A scream, raw and piercing as a butchered pig, rent the air. If not for Semili’s earlier soundproof barrier, House’s howls would have startled the entire Mage Guild.

Like everyone else, Vest was jolted from her daze by House’s screams. She scowled, preparing to intervene, but Semili, with a subtle shake of his head, signaled her to stand down.

"Newcomer! Don’t go too far!" one mage said sternly, unable to believe the new recruit would act with such brazen disregard. Yet, despite his shout, he didn’t step forward, clearly unsettled by Weir’s unexpected ferocity.

"Yes, how can you just attack someone like that?" As always, there was no shortage of those eager to stir the pot. Hearing someone speak up on his behalf, House, still writhing on the floor, seized the opportunity and shouted, "You little bastard, how could you hit so hard? Such a violent person is a menace to the Mage Guild! He should be expelled immediately!"

"Hmph, you can still talk?" Weir snorted, flicking his wand to conjure another flame. This time, it struck House’s right leg, burning a hole clean through his mage’s robe and searing his flesh directly.

Weir, however, was measured in his punishment. He made House suffer but did not cripple him; still, the scalding fire left his thigh raw and bloody, the sizzle and stench of charred flesh making everyone present wince in disgust.

"Mr. House, is it? You claim to be a fifth-tier mage, far stronger than me, a mere third-tier mage. So why are you now sprawled on the floor, wailing in agony, while I stand over you unscathed?"

"Because you ambushed me, you shameless dog!" House wailed, all pretense forgotten as he thrashed about like a wounded animal, finally managing to extinguish the flames on his leg. The gory wound, however, remained, twisting his features in pain.

"Ambushed? Shameless? In battle, who would ever grant a mage ample time to chant a spell? Even an idiot knows that the first move against a mage is to rush them, break their incantation. If you interrupt a mage, brute force alone is enough to kill a frail spellcaster! That’s common sense! Just as you claimed your fifth tier trumps my third, have you considered that in real missions, the enemy won’t let you chant? Of course not! And let me tell you this: within the same tier, it’s nothing to brag about whether you’re third or fifth. We’re equals. Given the right opportunity, even a first-tier mage could kill a ninth-tier one! That, too, is common sense! Mages lack the reflexes and defenses of soul warriors, and a fatal attack taken unawares means only one thing—death!"

On the floor, House’s face contorted with agony as the searing pain from his wounds drew shuddering cries from him. He curled up, utterly wretched.

Casting a disdainful glance at House, Weir swept his gaze around the room and spoke in a tone heavy with rebuke: "And as House said, Semili is the very soul of the Mage Guild, its chief mind. When the mind gives orders, subordinates are to obey, not question! If anyone objects to Semili’s arrangements, speak to him directly—or, if you prefer, you may discuss it with me, the one you say will drag you down!"