The young man in a leather jacket walked closer to Cyril, hands in his pockets. On the way he scoffed at the man in grey.
"Hey, Arnot. Is that what you meant by someone being near?"
"Heh, just a wannabe knight from some cushy academy." The thug scanned Cyril's uniform, contempt showing in his eyes.
Cyril kept still, letting him walk all the way up to him.
Soon they were standing face-to-face, the thug completely missing the understanding of private space.
"I'll ask again. What are you doing here?"
"Tsk. Really? Another noble with an inflated ego?"
The young man sighed in frustration and suddenly moved.
His hand shot from the pocket, knife glistening in the air.
"...!"
Cyril grabbed onto the blade with his bare hand, stopping the attack.
The thug attempted to wrestle the dagger but found it impossible to move.
He let go of the weapon in a startle and moved a few steps back.
Cyril threw the dagger in the old garbage bin to the side, on his palm, not even a trace of an injury.
"So you are not just some waste..." The thug narrowed his eyes at the sight.
The rest of the thugs around all drew their weapons. Some even began casting spells.
However, the young man in a leather jacket raised his hand in the air, motioning for them to stop.
"I'll deal with him myself."
An arrogant smirk emerged on his face as he began casting a spell.
Cyril observed the unobstructed magic circle without interrupting, finding it familiar.
It's a body enhancement spell.
The thug's body soon flashed blue, experiencing an obvious change.
It grew bigger, the muscles growing more prominent. The black leather jacket now appeared a size smaller.
"Random thugs know spells like this? Hmm."
The now burly thug spread his hands out and raised his chin.
"Come on, show me what you've got!"
With his excited voice, the small crowd observing them erupted in cheers.
Particularly the group wearing similar jackets all yelled or whistled, making noise in whatever way they could.
"Yeah!"
"That's the way of the Power Society!"
"Show him our might!"
"Who the hell does this noble think he is!?"
The man in grey observed the two of them and glanced somewhere else, a few beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
Cyril calmly observed the excitement around him, a bit of confusion mixed with his usual cold stare.
...I guess I have to oblige. That would only be polite.
He looked straight at the arrogant thug in front of him and jabbed him with an open palm.
It happened quickly and without any sound.
The thug flinched but then recovered and stood still with his chest puffed out.
His expression soon turned to mockery.
"That's-"
Suddenly his head violently flinched again, and he took a few steps back.
A big patch of hair fell to the ground from his head.
There was now silence around.
The thug clutched his head with a pained expression. Where lush brown locks had been was now an empty space, smooth to touch.
"What-what have you done?!"
"What you asked of me."
Cyril calmly nodded, then focused on one particular direction.
"She is coming."
The thug's face soon turned from confusion and panic to anger mixed with sadness.
"Leader, look behind you!"
"What!"
The thug furiously turned around.
There, right behind him, fluttered a conspicuous red butterfly.
And behind her walked a woman in a flowing robe with pitch-black hair and golden eyes that seemed to bring the much-needed serenity to the scene.
The thugs retreated a few steps, and even the burly young man created distance, letting Selene walk before Cyril.
On the way she glanced at the bald spot of the thug.
"Not bad. You've got a good beginning."
Her voice was quiet, yet everyone heard it loud and clear. There was a certain majesty to it that made the many passionate youths around give way and wait their turn.
Cyril nodded, satisfaction vaguely visible on his face. However, that changed with the next word she said.
"...But it's still flawed."
The burly young man suddenly felt his bald spot, his hand becoming wet. Blood quietly flowed down his forehead.
Cyril wasn't able to perfectly cut the hair without affecting the rest.
…It's just different when used on a human.
Cyril remained silent, but perhaps the frown on his face told her all she needed to know, as Selene's golden eyes narrowed.
"Observe how the technique should work." She pointed towards the thug.
Morpho suddenly shot out forward, striking the same thug before anyone had the time to react.
The young man in a leather jacket felt as if a leaf, driven by an evening breeze, landed on his body.
However, his eyes constricted as he frantically waved his hands in defense.
"No!"
Morpho bounced back, untouched, and hovered near Cyril.
Suddenly, as the despair in the thug's eyes grew stronger, what remained of his hair cleanly fell to the ground.
Without any signs or flinching, the young man was now completely bald. Even his eyebrows were gone.
He could only gather the strands of hair in his hands, his lips trembling.
...So Morpho succeeded.
"She did."
Cyril nodded towards the butterfly.
"Congratulations." He felt a bizarre mix of emotions, but in the end he was only happy for her.
Morpho sat on his shoulder, tapping her legs in a joyful manner.
Selene kept silent, her golden eyes observing the interaction.
"You people-!"
A completely enraged voice attracted Cyril's attention. The bald thug pointed at them, his teeth showing.
"-are deadmeat! Get them!"
The surrounding crowd immediately ran in, swinging their axes and daggers.
Cyril shot forward, using both hands to jab people as he dodged their attacks. In a moment they dropped to the ground, clutching their legs in pain.
A few used the same body-enhancing spell, while a few threw some fireballs, but their efforts were futile.
He used Selene's technique to the fullest, striking one after another until none were left around him.
Morpho fully utilized her butterfly agility, weaving in between with incredible smoothness.
Their attacks simply failed to reach her, always just barely missing.
She grazed whoever she passed with her wing. After a delay, half a dozen thugs dropped to the ground, their legs refusing to move.
Strangely, no one attacked Selene. She simply stood with her hands behind her back, observing the chaos.
Soon, all the thugs lay on the ground, their moans breaking the silence.
Cyril took a light breath to recover as Morpho landed back on his shoulder.
He gave her a long look.
"Impressive."
"So that means..."
"...What is your wish?"
The butterfly folded her wings, staring at him completely still.
Somber silence settled between them as the bad feeling in Cyril intensified.
Soon it was broken by a quiet, pitiful whisper.
"I knew I should've trusted my gut..."
Cyril turned to the source of the voice and discovered a thug in a grey worker's uniform lying on the floor, staring at the sky with blank eyes.
It seems the man thought no one would hear him.
Once he, Morpho, and Selene all turned to look at him, the man flinched in surprise.
I don't remember getting him… Did Morpho do it?
"No…"
"I give up! Please, young knight, spare my life!" While lying down, he raised both his hands towards the sky.
So he lay down on his own.
"Coward."
With a curious heart, Cyril walked up to the man and crouched down, staring him in the eyes.
"What were you doing here?"
"We were trading our supply of Atropa to the Power Society, nothing more than that!"
"What is Atropa?"
Never heard of it.
"It's a new drug that's popular on the streets right now. Damn addictive too."
Cyril didn't reply to the man's eager explanation. Instead, he moved towards the conspicuous briefcase on the ground.
He opened it and looked inside. The paper bag was still quietly lying there.
Cyril grabbed it and poured its contents all inside the briefcase.
What does it look like?
A pile of white, stone-like fragments fell out, looking clean like glass.
"...!"
The moment Cyril saw them, a particularly noxious smell hit him.
"Ugh!"
He quickly moved away and gasped for fresh air, fighting the urge to retch.
"That is disgusting! How can anyone even come close to this?"
The man in grey stared at him in confusion, not daring to utter any word.
I can't let this smell exist for longer.
With a frown, Cyril quickly cast a fireball, and the briefcase was engulfed in flames.
The thug could only helplessly stare at his money being burned up, not daring to do anything.
"You!" But someone else dared.
Surprisingly, the bald thug managed to stand up on his feet, though his stance was wobbly. His face was twisted in a furious scowl, hatred oozing from his eyes.
"You really want to go against the Power Society!?"
"Hahaha! Look at him! His frowning without eyebrows! That's too much!" Rhamn pointed at the poor hairless young man, laughing without any restraint.
He indeed looks... unusual.
Cyril crossed his arms, fighting the urge to scoff.
"I don't know a group with that name. Are you famous?"
The thug's expression twisted even more, and he almost fell, but in the end he said through gritted teeth.
"Are you living under a rock or something?! Everyone around here knows us! We are the toughest gang in the city!"
Selene at this moment cut in, moving near Cyril.
"Power Society is a large criminal organization loosely held together only by its boss, Graw the Stubborn. Without that fool, this rabble would scatter like rats."
The thug's face became bright red from anger, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled.
"How dare you say that about the boss?! If he were here, he'd kick your ass so hard, not even your mother would recognize you!"
"I doubt that." Selene frowned, her golden eyes turning hostile.
She held two fingers together. A small, transparent serpent materialized between them and flew out, entering the furious bald thug.
The young man lost his consciousness completely, dropping on the floor with a loud thud.
"My mother would recognize me no matter what." Selene shook her head, her golden eyes becoming calm once more.
"She is more mad about that part!?"