A fancy little room, neatly decorated with bookshelves and polished wood. On the wall hung a massive painting of a muscular man , striking a "heroic" pose that looked more comical than inspiring—his jaw too square, his biceps ridiculous shine, and for some reason, a background of doves flying dramatically behind him.
The room was silent… until the very same man from the painting stood behind the desk, veins popping on his forehead.
"How many times do I have to tell you?!"
he roared, his mouth trembling with rage, every word spraying flecks of spit into the air.
"This is the sixth time already! STAY AWAY FROM TROUBLE, YOUNG MAN! Do you think it's fun fighting higher levels all day like some kind of stupid maniac?!"
Meanwhile, at the front, Zeke sat with his arms crossed, utterly bored, as if listening to a bird chirp outside the window was far more interesting than the scolding.
"HEY, ZEKE! Are you listening?!" the man's voice exploded.
Zeke lazily turned his head in the slowest, most dramatic way possible—like it physically hurt him to give attention.
"I said… KEEP AWAY FROM TROUBLE!" the man's shout blasted so hard, Zeke's hair literally swayed back from the force.
Zeke tossed his reply without hesitation.
"Trouble? They started it. Awakened or not, they're still just a bunch of losers trying to act cool."
The man slammed his desk, roaring back,
"WHY?! Does that make you any cooler?!"
Zeke blinked at him once. Then twice. And with perfect deadpan, he leaned back in his chair and muttered,
"…Well, obviously."
The man's veins popping like he was about to explode. "You—! Even a simple instruction, you can't squeeze into that tiny pea-brain of yours!"
Zeke just raised an eyebrow, pretending to think deeply, then answered in mock seriousness:
"Ohhhh I get it. So you're saying my brain's small."
Zeke leaned forward.
"In that case… how about you just expel me from class right now then?"
The room went silent.
The man froze, his booming presence suddenly shrinking as sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Ohhh… but you can't, can you?" Zeke's grin
widened, tone sharp with playful mockery.
"Because what would Mom say about this… hmm?She'd be very, very disappointed."He dragged the word out, voice dripping with fake pity.
Then He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with absolute confidence, then added with a smirk with something hilarious,
"Am I right… Uncle Fred?"
The man's face twitched, veins throbbing as he fumbled for words—his terrifying aura cracking under the weight of Zeke's shameless grin.
"This spoiled little bastard…" Fred muttered in his head.
then—BANG! A loud crash shook the door as a woman's voice thundered from the hallway.
"WHERE'S THE BOY NAMED ZEKE?!"
Both Fred and Zeke froze, their eyes snapping to the wooden door.
The door flew open with a dramatic slam as a chubby woman stormed in like a hurricane, two panicked teachers clinging desperately to her arms as if they were trying to stop a raging bull. She brushed them off like they were nothing.
"WHERE. IS. HE?!" she demanded.
Zeke, sitting cool as ever, calmly raised his hand like a student answering roll call, At the exact same time, Fred, also jabbed his finger directly at Zeke's head like he was trying to drill a hole through his skull.
Their expressions—calm and unreadable yet serious —acting like two professional in the middle of discussion.
"How dare you!" the chubby woman shrieked, her voice sharp As she pointing at zeke.
"You think a lowly little thing like you can simply hurt my handsome child and walk away unpunished? Utterly disgraceful! I demand that boy be punished at once!"
The teachers scrambled to calm her, but Fred, adjusting his glasses, spoke in a slow, deliberate tone—calm yet cutting.
"Yes, madam. We are already handling the matter between your son and Zeke. Everything is under control. However…"
He leaned forward slightly, voice firm and precise.
"There will be no punishment will happen."
The woman's jaw dropped—with exaggerated offense.
"Whaaat?! This is absurd! What sort of school is this?!" she bellowed, her words rolling self-important accent.
"I have been informed that this… this boy cannot even perform magic—why, he hasn't even awakened his elemental soul! And yet you favour this weakling over children who are far more deserving, like my darling son? Preposterous! Simply preposterous!"
But Zeke and Fred… remained still. Silent. Faces unreadable, calm as stone.
For a moment, their eyes locked. And Fred sighed inwardly.
" Ok… I'll let you handle this. Don't screw up, brat." He muttered in his mind.
Zeke's lips curved, a sly smirk creeping across his face—almost as if he heard every word inside Fred's head.
Zeke stood, head lowered, hands folded like some saint in prayer. His voice came soft, pitiful—way too pitiful.
"I sincerely apologize for what I've done to your son… It was only self-defense. I didn't mean to hurt him."
One brow lifted, as Fred's lips twitching downward. from disbelief.
Then Zeke's tone flipped like a switch, smirk tugging his mouth.
"But… wouldn't reporting this be a bad idea?"
The lady blinked. "What?"
Zeke still head bowing as he added.
"I mean… your son, the proud heir of the Sherlock family, reporting that just got slammed by a nobody? By a lowest mana in history?"
He chuckled, lips stretching into something almost cartoonishly smug.
"That'd stain his reputation forever. He'd be remembered as the boy beaten by zero-point-eight percent."
The room went still.
The lady's face puffed red, then purple. Veins bulged across her forehead. The teachers on each side scrambled, holding her arms before she exploded.
"You insolent little wretch!" she roared. "Are you mocking the Sherlock clan?! Bring that brat here—I'll teach him proper manners myself!"
Zeke tried not to laugh. But his shoulders shook, then he burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
Fred pinched the bridge of his nose, sinking into his chair.
" HOW did even my sister raise a kid like this" His thoughts groaned louder than his voice:
***
The school bell rang— DING, DONG, DING!
After a while of... what happened earlier in the principles office—Zeke was walking down the cemented path beside the building. hands sunk deep into his pockets.
He let out a long sigh after taking breath, then hummed lazily under his breath.
"Hmm~ hmm~ la la de la la de daaa…"
The moment stretched, slow and casual. Each step landed like a drumbeat. Tap… tap… His shadow trailed long behind him in the afternoon sun.
Then—his humming halted. "Huh?"
His eyes narrowed, spotting that kids who messed with him earlier moving at the other end's of the path
The kids stiffened. Their faces drained pale, as soon they also noticed Zeke.
One swallowed hard. Another muttered, "N-no way…"
Then—like dominoes—they spun around and bolted, running away like a group of chickens.
Zeke just stood there, lips curving slow into a grin. "Pffffffft… cowards."
Zeke continue walking as he reached reached the wider road, he was about to turn, when a wave of girls came rushing toward him. BAM!
He jolted back, arms flailing slightly, almost tripping over his own feet. as skirts and bags brushed past him in a blur.
Zeke straightened, still slightly flustered, "…Wh-what the hell was that?"
More students going rush to that same direction.
His curiosity took over, and so he started walking slowly in the direction the crowd was heading.
"I can't believe they're here!" one student yelled.
"They're amazing!" another squealed, practically bouncing on their toes.
Joseph didn't pay much attention, just observed quietly, with his curiosity .
By the time he reached the gates, the scene had exploded: not only students, but teachers and villagers were crowded outside, yelling and waving like some celebrities had just arrived.
Zeke pushed forward, wanting a better look at the commotion.
But being… well, not exactly tall, he found himself blocked by the crowd.
He frowned, then smirked—small body, big advantage. Ducking slightly, he slinked through a tiny gap between two larger adults, using his height to weave under arms and slip past shoulders with ease.
Finally, he reached a spot where he could see… just barely. Enough to take in the scene.
And then he saw it.
The soldiers marched steadily down the main road, their golden and silver armor gleaming in the sunlight. Helmets covered their faces completely, giving them an unstoppable presence, moving with precision that made the ground seem alive under their steps.
At the center of the formation, a white flag fluttered in the wind. On it was a striking emblem: two eagles, one blue and one red. The blue eagle clutched a shield, the red one a sword. Between them, a golden book shimmered in the sunlight.
"That flag… I've seen it before… Could it be?" he muttered.
Then He paused, drawing a sharp breath. eyes widen even more: a group of teenagers riding magnificent horses, five in total. Their black uniforms bore the same emblem across their chests, matching the flag perfectly.
"It's… the Golden Continent Academy… What the hell are they doing here?" he muttered
then— Zeke flinched as the bodies pushed against him.
"The hell?!" he barked, trying to regain balance. "You've got to be kidding me!"
people shoving past like a crushing, chaotic machine, and Zeke was right in the middle of it, Face twisted side to side, completely hilarious. "Shumbuby—welp—mee!" (Somebody— help me!).