Capital of the kingdom is huge. People of varying status—nobles or commoners, wealthy or poor—all serve as part of the kingdom's central hub.
For years, the commoners experienced. They have always been the ones to suffer first whenever nation-wide adversities arose, while the nobles were protected by the very system that they created.
Anxious, and without a solution to ease such anxiousness, they have been jealous of the lives that nobles lived. However, they held no power to oppose or take what the nobles claimed by force. After all, nobility in this kingdom was largely defined by the ranks of skills which they owned.
It was for that reason that when the news regarding how injured the nobles were spread throughout the city, people gathered. It was, and has been a way for them to remind themselves that the nobles were no different from them—same, but simply luckier.
Upon arrival, they gasped, even though they expected such a scene. Reacted with that of shock at the gruesome sight that would make them frown just upon the thought of being in such situation, but such reactions were nothing but acts.
People enjoy violence, as long as said violence has nothing to do with them. Isaac knew the eyes that he has been receiving ever since he was deemed talentless. When he was branded Nameless and lost the name of Valerius. Outwardly, people were disinterested in whatever happened to him because they were busy enough with their daily lives. However, whenever their self-esteem drops because of whatever reason, they would always turn to him and remind themselves that there is always someone in worse situations than them.
—Hedron—
—that's Camilla Hedron? That pompous—
—two guys, they're nobles as well—
The people murmured. No one stepped out to help. Was it that they were afraid, or that they were enjoying? Perhaps both, but Isaac believed that it was closer to the latter, coupled with the bystander effect.
Isaac breathed. His lips were dry as he opened his mouth and spoke firmly, "please move. We require an immediate medical attention. Time is running low."
The crowd didn't respond. Instead, they continued to whisper among themselves.
"I wonder who'd be held accountable should these nobles die here." Isaac forced another sentence. Such words seemed to have evoked fear out of some, causing them to shift away. However, it didn't quite produce an effect he was hoping, because of someone who made his way from the middle, pushing through the crowd that naturally parted upon recognizing the man's identity.
"What's going on here?" Tall, lean, and composed. The garments that he wore were definitely of higher quality than anyone else present in the site. Wavy black hair and deep green eyes that appeared ambitious—it was Aldric Zephyr who stood with his eyebrow raised and hands pocketed.
And that wasn't the end. By his side, with a long, straight hair of light blue—the hair color that Isaac never witnessed before on anyone but her—and the eyes that shimmered, changing its color when viewed from a different angle, Irine was standing. Perhaps, it was her that caused the parting of the crowd rather than Aldric, because the moment she was revealed, many seemed encaptivated by the synergistic effect of her inherent beauty and her skill, [Glamour].
Irine stared at Isaac flatly, as if they weren't acquainted. Aldric, on the other hand, inspected the carriage behind him, sternly. "Explain the situation, Isaac Nameless."
"Camilla Hedron, Vane Abias, and Randal Ursula are currently boarded. They all require an immediate medical attention."
"How severe?"
"I'd assume that anything below A-rank: [Restoration] won't be sufficient to treat them."
Aldric turned around, "you heard that. Make a way, people—" he paused, for there already was a path in the middle of the crowd, wide enough for the carriage to pass through. He pointed his thumb at said path while gazing at the coachman, "go." Then, he turned to Isaac, "and you stay."
The coachman hesitated and peeked at Isaac. Aldric caught onto such a behavior and growled, "he's a fucking Nameless. Move on already."
Isaac waved at the coachman, signalling him to leave as Aldric said. The coachman bowed slightly at Isaac before moving away, and this seemed to have confused many—why was he showing respect to Isaac Nameless?
"For what do you need me to stay." Isaac, sighing as the carriage moved out of his sight, asked.
"Explain. What else?" Aldric snorted, crossing his arms.
"Explain what?"
"The situation. How the hell did three nobles—one higher and two lesser—end up in such conditions while you got off unscathed?" Aldric jabbed his finger at Isaac. The crowd seemed to agree with him, judging by how they received his words. "They were the respective owners of A- and B-rank skills. You? F-rank: [Condensation]."
Isaac chuckled. "Then, why don't we try the other way first? Tell me your thoughts, and I will confirm whether you're right or wrong."
"For what reason must I do that? All you got to do is—"
"You are accusing me, Aldric Zephyr." Isaac, unlike his usual self, growled in annoyance. The crowd seemed to have become surprised by his antics—having a gall to act bold against the man who will, without a doubt, become one of the leading figures of the kingdom in the future. Even Irine, who knew Isaac's usual self, seemed caught off guard, although she quickly masked her emotion. "You're implying that I am responsible for their injuries without evidence. So tell the reason why you reached such a conclusion… or else, you've accused me with no basis, based on nothing but prejudices that low-rank skill owners are either useless or vile."
The crowd shifted. Given how the majority of them owned low-rank skills, they realized that Aldric's thoughts, which they previously agreed to, was applicable not only to Isaac but to themselves as well should they agree.
Aldric closed his mouth. Stared intently at Isaac for a while, thinking. Eventually, he said, "fine." He walked around in circles, speaking slowly as if layering his thoughts. "I am your senior. As in, third-year higher class. I've experienced whatever you're experiencing right now. Conveniently, I also happened to hear about the current assignment that the second-year higher class is working on—namely, the Manafold Beast Subjugation." He snorted. "I remember that we were put into groups of four, and then assigned a particular beast to hunt. All the assigned beasts had B-rank skills. The one whom I faced was so easy that a single operation of my skill was enough to complete the assignment. Quite a drastic difference, no? Unless there has been an outsider intervention, it is impossible to be injured like your group members."
"…That's it?" Isaac asked.
Aldric stopped, "what?"
"Is that the only reason why you had me stop and explain to you and all the others who aren't related to this matter?" Isaac closed his eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. "What a dumbass you are."
Aldric seemed caught off guard. His face slightly reddened and he unconsciously clenched his right fist tightly. However, he forced a smile, "hah, talk about being called a dumbass by Nameless."
"Three things." Isaac held up three fingers. "One, who the fuck won't be capable of defeating a B-rank Manafold Beast with S-rank skill? Of course it'd be easy. Two, the Manafold Beast that our group was assigned—you are probably familiar with its name."
"Which is?"
"Red Wolf."
Aldric frowned, clearly going back in his memory to search for the name. He seemed to have remembered something, and his face flattened into realization, "that's…"
"As I expected." Isaac read Aldric and said, "Another group your year was likely assigned this beast as well, and failed. I'd assume that they weren't as severely wounded as us, however."
"No, and their skills were worse off than your group. This is the proof that—"
"Which brings us to the third fact—that there has indeed been an outsider intervention." Isaac casually cut off Aldric mid-sentence. Public opinion and aftermath consequences weren't in his mind right now; he simply wanted this to be over with.
"…Twice, Isaac Nameless." Aldric's eyes narrowed. "Twice, you've insulted me, Aldric Zephyr—"
"Shut up and listen." Ignoring Aldric's seething form, Isaac spoke, "You found three members of the group in that carriage that had gone by, injured. Yet, you haven't realized."
"Realize what?"
"The lack of our assessor." Isaac pinched the bridge of nose, trying to keep himself awake. "One who's supposed to accompany the group and monitor our progress."
Aldric was at the loss of words, because he realized only now upon Isaac pointing it out.
"For your information, he was killed. By poison."
"…Poison."
"How else would he die? The recruited assessors are veterans when it comes to hunting Manafold Beasts. It would be difficult for them to die against those creatures." Isaac's eyes briefly hovered over Irine, who immediately averted her own away from him. He then returned his gaze on Aldric. "Let's assume that I am the one who actively sabotaged the team. That means that somehow, with nothing but my F-rank: [Condensation] as you previously mentioned and the poison needles, I not only managed to backstab our assessor but also manipulated situations so that three members, whose skills are of higher ranks than mine, were critically injured. Then, instead of killing them, I brought them all the way here, still alive." Isaac chuckled once again, "does that make sense to you?"
"…It isn't entirely impossible, given how you defeated Silas Fulgur once—"
"Choose one stance and stick with it, Zephyr." Isaac snorted. "Am I a useless nobody with F-rank skill, or the victor of the recent most duel? My status isn't something you can shift back and forth to meet your convenience."
Aldric went silent for a while. Clicking his tongue, Isaac walked, past Aldric, Irine, and the crowd that was blocking his way forward. All he wanted to do was to wash himself clean and get some nice rest for once.
"Then," Aldric then said from Isaac's back, without turning around, "are you saying that all this—the death of your assessor, injuries of your teammates, and failure—they are all based on nothing but a misfortune?"
"Yes." Isaac didn't stop the walk as he stated.
Aldric seemed to have regained his composure, as he turned and stared at Isaac's back. "Then, you're a totem. Of misfortune, that is." He remarked impassively, "bad things always seem to find their ways to you."
To such words, Isaac didn't respond. He didn't see the point of doing so.
Left in the middle of the crowd, Irine watched as Isaac walked away. Eventually, upon his disappearance, she turned to Aldric, whose face was cold and stoic. Although not visible outwardly, she would tell that he was enraged.
"Irine."
She recalled the letter she had received from her father quite recently.
"I recently met this boy who claimed himself to be acquainted with you." The letter said, "Isaac Nameless, that was the name. Steer yourself clear from him. There is nothing to benefit by being near him. A fool, what's what he is."
Misfortune. That was the word Aldric defined Isaac with. Perhaps, it wasn't so wrong.
And, upon feeling Aldric's eyes on her, she dreaded, I am no different.