Won't Treat You as a Brother #1
The atmosphere in the room grew unbearably awkward. It felt like the slightest spark of anger from anyone could shatter the fragile tension, as if they were all tiptoeing across thin ice. Despite everyone's forced smiles, a precarious air hung over them.
Unexpectedly, it was Lawrence who broke the silence. In the preliminary rounds, it wasn't only the tower masters who had the right to choose. Often, participating mages or family scions would propose joining a tower first.
"I'd like to go to the Iron Tower. That okay?"
"Haha! If you're choosing our humble frontier tower, it's an honor for us!"
"You're really picking the Iron Tower?"
The Iron Tower Master burst into laughter, while Media Montemer asked again. Lawrence nodded boldly without hesitation.
Media had felt a flicker of annoyance moments before, but relief soon washed over her.
Good. At least I can ship him off to the boonies. What a relief.
The mood had lightened considerably, and Lawrence had even stepped forward himself. Now she had ample justification. Media put on a reluctant nod, acting for the crowd.
"Very well, if that's your wish, so be it. Don't come regretting it later."
"Of course not. Don't worry about me."
Watching Lawrence's bright smile, Media felt an inexplicable mix of irritation and unease. But she couldn't probe openly in such a public setting. For nobles and mages, appearances were everything.
"Fine then. Take your maid with you."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Sorry for the stiff atmosphere just now. Now, let's have some friendly spars with the seniors. Please enjoy the talents of these young sprouts to your heart's content."
At Media's words, everyone rose and applauded enthusiastically. That was what they'd been waiting for. Just how skilled was Lawrence Montemer? What was the true ability of this monstrous boy who had calmly unleashed magic amid overwhelming pressure?
Before long, all eyes turned to Lawrence with anticipation—like fans back on old Earth flocking to see his works.
I'll definitely win this. Lawrence.
Even amid the envy and jealousy blooming around him. Loras Montemer glared at Lawrence with murderous intent, as if staring down a blood-sworn enemy.
Someone watched Loras with pity.
"Hey, you really that desperate to crush your little brother?"
"...Mind your own business, sis."
"The nerve!"
"Why? You hang around that defective piece of trash, and now I look pathetic to you!?"
Loria Montemer. Lawrence's sister had come to watch his preliminaries and was now indulging her younger brother's whining.
"Don't tarnish the Montemer name. If you lose, admit it cleanly."
"... "
Loria didn't answer directly, but it was answer enough. Loras's fists clenched with a grotesque crunch.
Seeing this, Loria looked at him with genuine disappointment. She knew exactly why he was so furious.
"I just can't fathom why you're jealous of your own brother. Just be better than him, duh?"
"You wouldn't get it. You've always had Mom's attention."
"Do whatever you want."
Loria shook her head and walked away. A flash of silvery-white shimmered amid her wind-tossed light brown locks.
#2
Lawrence sensed one gaze among the crowd burning with particular hostility. From the look of it, Loras... Old memories flooded back vividly.
You worthless shit, why can't you use magic! Wah!
I'm getting scolded because of you!
Loras gave off the vibe of a deranged army senior with no repercussions. He'd even tied Lawrence up for "magic experiments," testing all sorts of spells on him—with a healing priest on standby, no less.
Oh, this one's better with a plain punch?
Magic hurts? Or does my fist hurt?
Lawrence had wanted to kill him for real. Ironically, he'd escaped that grip only after starting serious research. Who'd have thought the guy who always mocked him as trash, defective, crippled... was burning with jealousy like this?
Guess I'll have to sort you out myself.
He planned to repay that malice in full.
Time passed, and Media's hosting was top-notch. During the break, Lawrence reset his artifacts. He released the full-capacity [Fireball] and prepared the 3rd Circle spell [Ice Blast], made from yeti and troll materials. He swapped [Lightning Arrow] for [Haste].
"This should do it. And..."
◈ [Engraving: Indomitable Warrior]
◈ [Indomitable Warrior: Defends against status ailments with 30% probability.]
It looked like a massive tomahawk made of troll meat chunk, but it was Lawrence's custom weapon. Looked like it'd feel satisfying in his hands.
Standing in the training ground with it, he spotted Loras already warming up—and muttering incantations in advance.
Media saw it but didn't intervene. Fine. The pettier he acted, the guilt-free the beatdown.
In mage duels, without Memorize—a whopping 6th Circle spell—incanting from scratch was standard.
Doesn't matter to me.
Bringing [Haste] was a smart call. Time to test the Dragon Scale too. How far could its power go? What would Loras think when he charged through magic like a brute?
Lawrence's lips curled into a sly grin.
The referee eyed the bone-meat slab warily.
"What's that meat for?"
"My weapon. Think of it as a staff."
"A staff? You brought an ancient relic?"
"Something like that."
"... "
Meat as a relic? No way. The referee mage shook his head.
Magic staves were artifacts, and all artifacts save ancient relics were gone. No kid was hauling one around.
Loras, on the verge of manifestation, sneered.
"What's with the meat? Hah... No wonder you're mannerless, born without a mom."
"Stacking up karma, huh."
Lawrence replied with the serenity of an enlightened bodhisattva. Loras spat the one phrase he hated most, casually. To shut that yapping trap, a warmup was essential.
Oblivious, Loras kept spewing filth—forgetting a mere child still bore the Montemer dignity.
"I'll make you cry here today, you vermin defective."
"Let's get started."
"That... He's disrespecting his brother!?"
A flicker—Loras's pre-incanted mana wavered in rage. Loria would be so disappointed. Every petty act tarnished the family honor.
"Then, begin. Since it's friendly, we'll stop once there's a clear winner."
"Die—!"
Friendly? Yet Loras reeked of killing intent right off the bat.
[Haste]
[Capacity: 11/12]
Whoosh—! A 2nd Circle Fire Bolt formed instantly.
"What the—!"
"He was incanting early!?"
"That idiot..."
Who truly shamed Montemer—Lawrence the "defective," or Loras? The preliminaries had revealed much: the supposed trash shining, the "prodigy" a total scumbag.
Lawrence activated [Haste] and charged—straight at the incoming spell. Everyone leaped up in shock at the madness.
"Stop him—!"
"Insane!"
No time to intervene. Boosted by acceleration magic, Lawrence slammed into it head-on.
BOOM—!
A deafening fire explosion rocked him. Ears rang.
"Hahaha! Idiot! You ran right into it!? All that overconfidence—!"
"Told you I won't treat you like a brother!"
[Dragon Scale]
[Ignores spells 2nd Circle and below.]
Dragon scales blocked weak magic effortlessly. Loras's paltry spell couldn't pierce the sturdy guardian's hide.
Lawrence burst from the smoke unscathed. Hearing his voice, Loras paled and hastily incanted.
"Mana! Heed my call—"
"Ice Blast."
Crackkk! Temperature plummeted; ice spread instantly. A 3rd Circle ice spell—a wide-area debuff freezing everything.
The sudden chill triggered natural shivers; Loras's teeth chattered uncontrollably.
All gasped. Not only instant-casting a 3rd Circle after tanking a 2nd Circle unscathed—but his pulsing muscles gleamed through torn clothes, impressive.
Loras's eyes shook wildly. Best way to shut down a mage? This.
Mages dodge spells gracefully, then you close in and wham! Pow-pow! Got it?
Words from the assassin uncle he'd mentally dubbed his master. He hadn't dodged—he bulldozed through. Same result. Mages' chants were slow. Even one charging soldier overwhelmed them.
"Magic Missile!"
"Gaaah!?"
Crack! Lawrence's special physical Magic Missile struck true—the massive meat slab smashed Loras's skull.
Loria, who'd seen this before, facepalmed. Others gaped. A mage—!? Tower masters who'd witnessed it chuckled resignedly. Only Iron Hanma beamed proudly.
"As expected, Young Master Lawrence fits the Iron Tower perfectly!"
"Master is so cool—!"
Rachel cheered at full volume.
The pummeling didn't end there. A meat slab knock wouldn't KO a person easily. Prior fights involved holy magic in the meat—a special case.
"How dare you mention my late mother!?"
"Grah! Gaaah!"
[Warrior's Movement]
[Haste]
The red meat slab danced wildly. This was for his past life—and punishment for insulting his mother.
"That moron..."
Media's insides burned black once more today.