Lohran's confidence naturally angered the six stooges.
"You bastard!" a few of them exclaimed in unison as three charged forward, ready to beat him up.
But then, the juniper-haired young man stopped them.
"Wait!" he barked, halting his three underlings before continuing, "I think I know you… Lohran Von Neyvaris, second son of Garwin Von Neyvaris, am I right?"
Red-haired individuals weren't too rare, but wealthy ones were.
From what the young man knew, among all the aristocrats coming of age this year, only the second young master of the Minor Aristocratic House of Neyvaris was set to attend the Northern Dawnchaser Academy.
The eldest of the main line had apparently chosen to enroll in the Western Dawnchaser Academy, while the eldest of the branch family had gone to the Southern one.
Judging by Lohran's attire, he was clearly well-off, and so, putting the pieces together, the juniper-haired young man subconsciously made the connection.
The red-haired student before him could only be Lohran, the second son of the main line of House Neyvaris.
"So what if I am? Why does that matter? Aren't we going to fight?" the young Neyvaris snorted, sounding dissatisfied.
He was itching to teach the brats a lesson.
The juniper-haired young man merely smirked in response, despite his fuming heart.
He'd beat the red-haired runt silly in just a few seconds anyway.
All he had to do was be a bit patient and let the idiot learn who his real daddy was.
"Do you think your status would protect you from me, Cyrus Von Ashwick?" Cyrus introduced himself, his sinister grin spreading wider.
He was almost certain that Lohran would try to fall back on his name when things started to go south.
The idiot probably hadn't realized that he, too, was a lesser aristocrat—temporarily dressed in training clothes—the same reason the spiky-haired fool he'd just defeated had dared to pick a fight with him.
Lohran's eyes narrowed upon learning who the juniper-haired young man was.
'Hoh, the third son of the Minor Aristocratic House of Ashwick's main line, huh?' he mused.
The punk was from one of the four aristocratic houses that didn't see eye to eye with his family, and Lohran found it quite amusing to run into him here.
'Heh, probably sent to observe my progress…'
Based on what his father had told him, it wasn't uncommon for young aristocrats to choose faraway academies to monitor the progress of their rivals from other houses.
House Ashwick had five sons, and the third son, Cyrus, was the one closest to his age.
It didn't take much to figure out why the guy was here.
Seeing Lohran fall silent, Cyrus felt pleased, convinced the red-haired runt was finally panicking.
But just as the third young master of House Ashwick was about to speak again, Lohran sneered:
"And? Why the hell would I care who you are? Aren't you ashamed of using your status against me when I'm the one who's outnumbered?"
Veins popped at the sides of Cyrus' head.
The bastard dared flip the script on him?!
"I see you're still disconnected from the realities of this world. I shall teach you a lesson in place of your untalented father," the juniper-haired young man retorted icily, this time making veins pop at the sides of Lohran's head. "Go, beat hi–"
Before Cyrus could even finish his words, however, Lohran was already charging, fury blazing in his eyes.
The three stooges at the front of their formation instinctively stepped forward to intercept him, with the one leading the charge throwing a clumsy right hook—a wide, poorly executed swing.
Lohran easily ducked under the blow and countered with a sharp punch to the liver, followed by a clean overhand right to the jaw that left the towering six-foot-four brute—likely a Shielder, judging by his stocky build—utterly stunned.
Staggering and barely on his feet, the young man stood no chance against Lohran's follow-up.
With a quick leap, Lohran drove his elbow straight into the side of his temple. The impact sent the giant crumpling to the ground, white-eyed and foaming at the mouth.
The blue-haired young man watching from the sidelines was astonished.
But the moment admiration began to surface, he shook it off with a scowl.
No.
There was no way an aristocrat deserved his respect.
They were all the same.
Meanwhile, the other five stooges faltered upon seeing how the toughest one among them was knocked out in three swift and clean blows.
Lohran was not done with them, though.
His initial goal was merely to scare the brats away.
However, the third brat of House Ashwick dared insult his father.
The guy wouldn't be getting off easy today.
With the other five frozen in shock, Lohran wasted no time and charged straight for the leader.
Cyrus gritted his teeth, his expression darkening as he quickly realized that Garwin's second runt was one hell of a fighter.
Was the bastard one of those occasional Striders produced by House Neyvaris?
Cyrus didn't have much time to think, though, as Lohran was already upon him, charging at unbelievable speeds for a mere newcomer.
Gritting his teeth, Cyrus assumed his fighting stance, thinking,
'You think you'll be able to do the same to me? Think again!'
He was a prideful Blader.
While his talent wasn't exceptional, it was solid.
His hand-to-hand combat techniques were also a notch or two above his underlings.
One clean blow from him, and Lohran would likely be foaming at the mouth, just like his unconscious subordinate.
And so, Cyrus plotted.
He faked a right hook, expecting Lohran to duck—but unfortunately, his feint wasn't convincing enough, and Lohran saw right through it.
Without hesitation, the red-haired runt stopped, adjusted his stance, and threw a powerful overhand right.
At his shorter height, it was one of his best weapons against a six-foot-tall opponent.
'This bastard!' Cyrus cursed, caught off guard.
The only thing he could do was jerk his head to avoid a knockout blow—yet he still took the punch square on the nose.
The impact stunned and staggered him, sending him crashing onto his butt.
Cyrus forgot he was in a fight for a moment.
But as he scrambled to get up the next, he suddenly felt a tight grip around his neck.
Lohran was right in front of him, his face inches away—half-smiling, half-glaring.
"I was only supposed to stop you punks from bullying someone, but you just had to drag my father into this," Lohran said, his voice low and menacing. "If I hear his name from your filthy mouth again, this won't end with a single punch. Got it?"
Cyrus shuddered.
There was something about Lohran's tone—icy, deliberate.
It was easy to tell when someone was bluffing… and the red-haired second young master of House Neyvaris certainly wasn't.
Before Cyrus could respond, Lohran released him and stepped back.
"Scram."
Without another word, Cyrus and his stooges retreated, dragging their unconscious comrade along with them.
Lohran wasn't too worried about the consequences of what he had done.
First, as a lesser aristocrat, the academy wouldn't punish him too harshly for knocking out a commoner and punching another aristocrat one time.
Second, he doubted Cyrus would cause a commotion.
Doing so would be like admitting that he and his gang were beaten and bullied by a lone five-foot-seven runt like Lohran, quite possibly making them the butt of jokes in the campus.
It would be infinitely better for them to take the defeat silently.
Of course, that was assuming the blue-haired young man wouldn't rat him out—which Lohran believed wouldn't happen since the guy seemed to have at least some moral values and principles.
He wouldn't have stood his ground against the bullies if he didn't.
Besides, it would practically be like kicking his benefactor in the teeth.
Lohran spared a glance at the half-frustrated, half-dumbfounded blue-haired youngster, who looked like he was fighting an internal battle, making sure the young man was fine before turning to leave without another word.