Gunmage-Chapter 248: A one way ticket to hell

"What do you mean wait?"

Zhou interrupted hastily, her voice sharp and cutting through the air.

"That child is clearly unstable. I’m going to put an end to this."

She made to move, but Selaphiel clamped down on her wrist with a grip like steel, her eyes flashing as she hissed:

"I said wait."

"Worst case scenario, a few kids die. We handle it. What do you care?"

Zhou stilled, the force of Selaphiel’s words cutting through her righteous anger like a blade.

Slowly, deliberately, she calmed herself, letting her tension due out.

"...You’re right"

She finally said, exhaling, her shoulders slackening.

Selaphiel loosened her grip, and all three continued watching from the balcony above as the storm below reached its eye.

Lugh’s aura hadn’t flared or surged, that would only expose him as the real deal. Either way, he didn’t really need it as he was already only a few meters away from the trembling challenger.

The youth’s legs had begun to visibly quiver, like a lamb facing a wolf for the first time.

Lugh spoke, voice low and contemptuous.

"I’d have killed you... but your blood is too dirty. Impure. You’re not worthy of being felled by my blade."

And just like that, he turned to leave. It had been a masterful performance, one laced with borrowed fury and genuine menace—feelings stitched together from the lingering memories of the dead.

Lugh was confident that no one would dare challenge him again.

He was already thinking about how to spend the rest of his day. Socializing? That would be difficult after this display. But then, Lugh thought little of it.

Those worth his time would have already realized that there had been an underlying purpose to his behavior—something deeper than wounded pride or empty arrogance.

As for those who didn’t... that was their failing, not his.

He had taken barely four steps when yet another voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd.

’Not again’

Lugh thought grimly.

A new figure stepped forward—slender, tall, and outwardly harmless. Like the Prince before him, this one wore a smile. But it was much more relaxed.

He raised a hand in casual greeting.

"Uh, hey... Mr. Von Heim? Or Lugh? Whichever you prefer."

"You can call me Lugh,"

Came the curt response.

"Right. Great. Lugh."

The man nodded, then continued, still smiling.

"I’d also like a shot at that duel stuff everyone seems so hung up on."

Lugh’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing, suddenly hostile.

"Whoa, whoa—easy now,"

The youth said, backing up slightly with both palms raised.

"I’m here for the Jade Tower’s selection. I just wanted a test of skill. But I also don’t mind a fight to the death, if unavoidable."

Lugh didn’t reply. He simply stared, eyes boring into the speaker, peeling apart his words and posture for signs of deceit. The boy continued speaking, undeterred.

"What do you say? I’m not a coward. And I’m from one of the major noble houses. You shouldn’t have any reason to reject now... should you?"

At the end of that sentence, the warmth in his voice vanished, replaced with clinical seriousness.

In another area of the hall, where the older generation stood observing the young ones with silent scrutiny, Victor Aelhurst dabbed his forehead with a fine embroidered handkerchief, sweat clinging to his brow.

Those kids were suicidal.

He had heard that other agents like him had been dispatched to confirm Lugh’s identity.

He could only assume these provocateurs were among them. If so, they were either incredibly brave... or incredibly foolish.

Victor wasn’t sure he even believed in the rumors. Resurrection, black voodoo magic, it all sounded like a trap to him.

And this meant, the boy in front of them very well could be the true Lugh. If that were the case, things could spiral into disaster at any moment.

And yet... he had doubts.

One detail gnawed at him: the eye.

Lugh’s infamous red-and-black eye—rumored to be a lingering mutation from surviving Drakensmar—was concealed. Covered.

If he were ashamed of it, he would have hidden it before his debut to high society, not after. The fact that it was concealed now... gave Victor pause.

He felt an itch to sweep the hair aside and confirm it himself, but he knew better. That impulse was a one-way ticket to hell.

If this was the real Lugh, his fate was sealed. If it was a fake... those who orchestrated it would ensure their revenge.

Either way, he died.

Victor clenched his jaw and kept watching. Back on the floor, Lugh gave his answer.

"I still refuse."

Prince Wittmann, who had been watching with barely concealed smirked, his eyes gleaming with certainty.

"Oh? And why is that?"

He asked, voice dripping with mock innocence.

"He’s willing to fight to the death. He’s from one of the great noble houses. He fits all your criteria. So... why do you refuse?"

Lugh’s reply was instant.

"The Prince who cowers while others fight for his honor shouldn’t be talking."

The words struck like a blade. A few gentlemen winced. More than a few budding ladies gasped, scandalized. Wittmann’s face twisted in fury, his composure crumbling, his hands curling into fists.

"Oh? Is that so?"

He said tightly. He stepped forward.

"In that case, I reinstate my challenge. If it’s a fight to the death you want, then it’s a fight to the death you’ll get."

Lugh paused. When he spoke, his voice was slow, dark, and every bit as dangerous as before.

"Are you sure you won’t regret this?"

This time, Wittmann didn’t flinch. He spoke with the confidence of someone who had discovered a big secret, voice steady when he answered:

"Yes, I’m sure."

Another hush fell.

Time seemed to hesitate. The crowd—once stirred into a frenzy—went still again, awaiting Lugh’s reply with bated breath.

Then, finally, came the answer.

"...No."

"...What?"

"No."

Lugh turned to face him fully.

"You issued a challenge. It is my choice to accept or decline. I choose to decline."

That was all the confirmation the Prince needed—but he pushed onward, he held all the cards in his hands, now to regain his reputation.

"You can’t do that"

Lugh replied

"Watch me."

And with that, he turned on his heels and began to walk away.

That was a mistake.

In the next moment, a blinding beam of light exploded behind him, roaring through the air like a comet—searing, fast, and merciless—aimed directly for Lugh’s back.

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