Jon had no time to react. The punch caught him directly in the nose.

It crunched with a wet sound while his head rocked backward, body following suit. He flailed his arms around, trying to reach for a handrail, a wall, anything that might prevent the fall. He failed, his feet left the steps, and he tumbled down half-a-flight of stairs, coming to a stop at the landing.

With barely any time to regain his bearing, something, likely a foot, hit him on the side and sent him rolling towards the wall.

“Thought you could hide among your friends forever, you dirty halfbreed?” Garrel said, thin lips curled in a snarl. He was flanked by two other nobles, a bald man and a stone-face woman. He shifted his weight, readying another kick.

On the floor and with the wall at his back, Jon put both arms together in front of his face, wrists against his forehead to block the first one. He felt a sharp pain on his left forearm as the noble’s shoe connected. The impact rocked his head back, hitting it against the wall.

The second kick came a split second later, too quick to be Garrel again. It caught Jon right on the stomach, forcing its contents out. The undigested dinner spewed out of Jon’s mouth, and he had a coughing fit as he almost drowned in his vomit.

“Lord, you’re disgusting. How dare you sully our academy with your presence?” Garrel spat and something warm splattered against Jon’s cheek. “Get him to his feet,” Garrel ordered his cohorts.

They each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up. Blood trickled down Jon’s nose, and his forearm flared in pain just from the woman’s touch. A broken bone, no doubt. Garrel swung his fist, hitting Jon on the side of the head. His vision blanked out for an instant, and he’d have fallen back to the floor if not for the two holding him.

He tried to struggle, to get out of their hold. All he managed was to make the two hold him tighter, with the man now practically hugging Jon’s arm.

The next punch caught him under the ribs, knocking the air out from his lungs. He tasted blood after the next one hit him in the mouth.

“You are a stain on our reputation, an unsightly thing in our midst. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave this place and never come back.”

Jon wheezed as he breathed, this simple act already bringing him pain. His arms were still being held. Jon’s arm remained locked in a tight hug, elbow pressed against the man’s stomach and hand hovering in front of his breeches. “...you,” his voice came out low and raspy, and Garrel came closer to hear it.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Jon knew that the smart thing to do was to keep quiet, take the beating, and be more careful in the future. Fighting back was bound to cause him even more problems. But after dying in his previous life and hurting everyone who loved him in this one, he had already understood something about himself.

His emotions always led him towards the worst possible decision.

“I said… fuck you!” Jon spat a mix of blood and saliva, hitting Garrel on the eyes. At the same time, his hand grabbed the bald man’s breeches with a death-grip, crushing his genitals and evoking a cry of pain. Pulling the woman along, Jon threw his weight against the man who was in too much pain to resist.

Blinded, Garrel swung his fist towards where Jon had been, unwittingly hitting the woman on the head and knocking her to the floor.

His other arm now free, Jon swung a fist to the other cohort, not caring about the pain from his broken bone. All that mattered was making sure that those three hurt worse. The punch hit the man square on the chin, disorienting him and finally allowing Jon to free himself. Jon delivered another punch to finish the job, sending the man rolling down the rest of the stairs.

All that was left was Garrel.

After wiping his eyes clean, the nobleman saw both his companions down. “You bast—”

Jon didn’t give him time to finish. He fell upon the nobleman with as much rage as he could muster, the pain being pushed to the back of his mind. He punched, kicked, clawed, elbowed, and kneed, all in quick succession, forcing his enemy back with each attack.

Then Garrel’s back hit the wall, and he could no longer retreat.

Jon feigned a punch, tricking him into raising his guard, and instead sent a knee straight to Garrel’s stomach.

The nobleman slumped forward in pain, his guard dropping enough for Jon to finally give him a well-deserved punch to the face, knocking him down.

Jon’s arm was still injured, but his legs were still fine. He kicked, again and again, until Garrel could do nothing but curl up on the floor to protect himself.

“You inbred motherfucker,” he said, the sole of his boots pressing down on Garrel’s head. “Without that nobility title, you’re nothing but an entitled prick. Try this shit again and I’ll fucking kill you, everything else be damned.” He kicked again for good measure before turning around and climbing the rest of the stairs.

All this while, none of the students came to investigate the noises. The hallways were completely devoid of people. When closed, the doors did a good job of isolating sounds, but they weren’t good to the point of completely blocking it. People must have heard the commotion and yet they chose to ignore it, likely at Garrel’s request.

Aeron had the right sentiment. This place sucked.

Jon dragged his broken body to the end of the hallway, the pain becoming more noticeable with each step he took. He unlocked the door, walked in, and locked it up again. Everything hurt too much. He walked up to his bed and plopped down on top of it, not even bothering to change his bloodied clothes or take off his boots.

He lacked affinity with the water element, meaning there was no way to heal himself on his own. The light element could at least allow him to mend his wounds, but his body cultivation was too advanced for a simple Mage spell to help. He’d need to breakthrough first—

Jon was too tired for that train of thought. He needed rest. Hopefully, his roommates would be arriving soon. There were bound to be repercussions for what happened, and he’d need all the help he could get.