"That brat!" an enraged fourth-year shouted, his voice cracking as red fury overtook his face. He slammed his staff down on the stone floor with a loud crack, the rune at its tip sparking briefly before sputtering out.
"You arrogant whelp! I'll kill you!" another student growled, his teeth clenched so tight veins bulged across his temple.
Around them, curses and seething grumbles rose like a plague of flies buzzing in angry swarms. Hateful eyes locked onto Damien, following his every step as he calmly walked back to the sidelines. He didn't return any of their stares. He didn't need to. He had already won—not just the match, but their pride.
His chantless casting had struck deeper than any spell, igniting a firestorm of humiliation in the older students. In a single breath, he'd reduced years of seniority into smoke and ash.
Jawne leaned against the railing, watching from the upper stands with an amused smirk.
