On the training grounds, James and Deniel had caught up.

They were stunned to hear Oliver’s words—he planned to take on the senior noble students alone.

“Oliver, what are you doing?”

“Come back, don’t provoke them!”

The two of them quickly shouted, reaching out to grab Oliver, trying to stop him from doing something rash.

Edmund, seeing the two commoners had arrived, burst into laughter.

“A bunch of filthy peasants gathered together? Perfect. You three stay right where you are. I’ll take you all on by myself!”

Earlier that afternoon, Edmund had been ambushed, and James and Deniel had landed some blows on him. His face was still bruised, and many of the noble students had already begun to mock him.

Oliver’s face remained impassive as he replied coolly, “One is all I need to deal with you.”

Even as he spoke, Oliver calmly pushed James and Deniel aside, giving them a look that told them he was fine, not mad, and most importantly, in complete control of himself.

What no one had noticed, though, was the group of figures on the roof near the training grounds, cloaked in shadow, watching the unfolding scene below.

It was Professor Arcanus and his students.

He had cast an invisibility spell, wrapping himself and the others in the magic, making them invisible to the students below.

One of the noble students, who had been brought along to explain what had happened, stood nervously by Arcanus’s side. His thoughts were less than hopeful.

“Damn, the professor looks pissed. Edmund is in deep trouble now…”

Back on the training grounds, Oliver had finally shrugged off the interference from James and Deniel and stepped back toward Edmund and the others.

The senior students stood up, surrounding him.

They were tall and broad-shouldered, like a wall of flesh, their presence enough to block the moonlight in the courtyard. But despite their intimidating size, none of them made a move.

It was clear: Edmund alone would suffice. They were only there to ensure Oliver couldn’t escape.

“Today, I’ll teach you how to properly treat a noble!” Edmund sneered, drawing a wooden training sword and advancing toward Oliver.

Still, Edmund had no intention of using magic. As a noble, he had learned basic swordsmanship, and he was confident it was enough to deal with a commoner like Oliver.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Edmund twirled the wooden sword into an elegant flourish, creating a dazzling display of motion. Then, with the grace of a swan and the speed of an arrow, he lunged forward.

His sword came crashing down on Oliver’s head.

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Though it was just a wooden sword, its speed and power were formidable. A solid blow could easily knock a commoner out cold, and with a metal blade, it might have even been fatal.

James and Deniel flinched, their hearts in their throats, but Oliver remained eerily calm.

Just as the sword was about to hit his face, Oliver reached out and snatched it from the air.

Crack!

The wooden blade was caught with a snap, and before Edmund could even react, Oliver’s wrist flicked, sending a jolt of force through the sword, knocking Edmund off balance. The sword flew from his hand.

Before Edmund could regain his footing, Oliver grabbed him by the throat. The air in Edmund’s lungs vanished, and his face flushed bright red as he struggled to breathe.

“Y-you…”

Edmund stammered in disbelief, but Oliver didn’t let him finish. With a single motion, he lifted Edmund off the ground, holding him up with one hand.

For a second, Edmund’s mind went blank. He was a full-grown man, nearly two meters tall and heavily muscled—but Oliver was lifting him with effortless ease.

The sheer pressure on his throat was suffocating. Edmund clawed desperately at Oliver’s fingers, but they felt like iron, unyielding and cold.

To add to his humiliation, Oliver’s other hand came up and slapped him hard across the face.

Slap! Slap!

Two ear-splitting slaps rang out, each one more powerful than the last. Edmund’s face immediately swelled, his skin turning purple as blood and shattered teeth sprayed out, some even splattering on the face of a nearby noble.

Yes, Oliver had knocked out his teeth!

The pain, humiliation, and fear of suffocation overwhelmed Edmund. His pride was shattered, his arrogance reduced to nothing.

As he looked up at Oliver, his eyes were filled with desperation. The contrast with his earlier haughty expression couldn’t have been starker.

If this continued, Edmund might die.

Oliver paused, considering for a moment, then casually tossed Edmund aside, sending him splashing into a nearby pond.

Edmund struggled, sputtering as he emerged, his body covered in algae, looking like the very picture of shame. It was the same way James and Deniel had looked earlier when thrown into the water.

But this time, the nobles weren’t laughing. They couldn’t.

Oliver’s cold gaze turned to them.

“Shall we all go?”

Holland, one of the nobles, let out a roar, and several others followed suit. They drew their wooden swords and charged at Oliver. Some aimed for his throat, others swung at his arms, and a few came from behind, targeting his head and back.

Within moments, seven or eight noble students were swarming around him, attacking from all directions.

It was too much.

Despite his immense strength, Oliver had never learned formal warrior techniques. He couldn’t block all the attacks.

One of the wooden swords struck his arm, leaving a bruise, and another noble landed a powerful punch to his head.

Oliver was injured—his body was covered in bruises and blood. But those nobles fared far worse.

With each strike, Oliver’s overwhelming strength crushed them. Any noble who was struck either had their ribs broken or their arms snapped.

Soon, the training ground was littered with bodies, with many noble students sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain. Only a few who had been studying knightly courses still stood, though they were clearly struggling to keep up.

For the most part, they were just punching bags for Oliver.

Grabbing one noble by the arm, Oliver drove a powerful fist into his chin, sending him flying. The noble crashed into several wooden training posts, splintering them to pieces.

The noble tried to rise, but after a few spasms, he collapsed to the ground, motionless.

By this point, only Oliver remained standing.

James and Deniel were completely stunned. Everything they were witnessing felt like a dream—so unreal.

The other students who hadn’t participated in the fight stood frozen, equally shocked.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

The next moment, something even more astonishing happened.

Several figures dropped from above and landed in the training grounds. The shadow magic faded, revealing Professor Arcanus and his students.

Professor Arcanus quickly approached Oliver, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Boy, you’re Oliver Stark, right?”

“Would you like to become a core apprentice at Oakridge Academy?”