CHAPTER 338: HUMILIATION

Those words hit them like a hammer.

"Don’t ever appear in front of me again."

"Or you both will regret it."

The street had grown quieter, though it wasn’t truly silent. However, it seemed that way to the three of them at least.

His mother stood frozen, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and teary. She couldn’t even find the strength to say anything and simply turned her head away.

Merely looking at Harry made her feel ashamed of herself, more than she could bear.

His father, however, trembled slightly.

It wasn’t just the words Harry had spoken, it was the way he’d said them... the tone he’d used.

The man’s heart kept thumping loudly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Before he knew it, he had already taken a step back, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth.

’What is this...?’ the man mumbled inwardly, his eyes narrowing at the back of his son.

His wife, still beside him, suddenly broke into soft sobs. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

The man clenched his jaw, his frown deepening as he glanced at her.

And Harry?

Harry simply kept walking, hands in his hoodie pockets. He didn’t even spare them another glance as he turned his back and walked further away.

It was this that finally broke something in his father.

His teeth gnashed together. Rage began boiling in his veins, and veins visibly popped on his forehead. His fists curled by his sides, trembling not from fear—but anger.

He couldn’t take it... the shame from getting humiliated by his own son. In front of strangers none the less.

They were still being watched, and more people had started to pay attention to them.

He gritted his teeth even harder, ignoring the stares, the emotions, even his wife’s shameful tears.

’Sure... I ignored you all those years, but shouldn’t you at least feel grateful... that we came here to see you?!’ he thought, his gaze locked on the back of Harry.

And then—

"You ungrateful little bastard..." he growled under his breath. "HOW DARE YOU WALK AWAY FROM YOUR PARENTS?!"

However, Harry’s footsteps didn’t pause. He didn’t even bother to glance back, and that only made his father angrier.

"I SAID STOP WALKING!" the man roared, stretching his hand forward.

A thin line of fire suddenly flared in front of his palm, swirling rapidly until it turned into a small fireball.

"I said..." he muttered, suddenly launching the fireball towards Harry. "Stop walking!"

People nearby gasped.

Harry’s eyes narrowed instantly, the sharp whistle of the fireball cutting through the air behind him.

He turned around swiftly, expression darkening.

Without even lifting his full arm, he flicked one finger forward.

A tiny, button-sized fireball shot from the tip of his finger, very small compared to the one launched by his father.

Swishh!

Nonetheless, the two fireballs met midair with a loud hiss, the larger one evaporating instantly.

Harry’s fireball kept charging, spinning like a drill as it headed straight for the man’s eyes.

His father’s eyes widened in horror, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

’He’s... going to kill me!’ he thought, his life flashing before his eyes.

However, the fireball suddenly stopped, about one centimetre before hitting his forehead.

The man gasped, feeling the heat from the attack scorching his skin and even the tip of his hair.

Cold sweat broke out around his forehead, droplets trickling down his face like rain under a furnace.

Then he stumbled back, collapsing to the ground with a low thud.

"Ghh—ah—!"

His eyes remained locked on the fireball, his shoulders trembling in terror.

The fireball soon fizzled out, vanishing into thin air, but the man’s gaze remained stuck in that same position.

’I could have... died.’ he mumbled inwardly, breathing heavily.

Suddenly, a foul stench filled the air, causing Harry’s brow to twitch.

He narrowed his eyes and glanced down.

Then he saw it.

A spreading, wet stain below the man’s waist. Pooled under his thighs.

The area around his groin was damp, stained with a glistening mark of shame.

Harry blinked once.

And clicked his tongue.

"Tch. How pathetic."

Even over the noise of the murmuring street, his disdainful words rang clearly in the ears of those nearby.

The woman—his mother—was frozen in place.

She had remained standing this whole time, eyes widened in disbelief.

But now, upon seeing her husband collapse, upon smelling that bitter stench, her body tensed instinctively.

She moved, stepping away from the man in embarrassment, almost like she never knew him.

Harry sighed, waving a hand toward them as if dismissing a pair of barking dogs.

"I’ve given you my warning," he said, voice low. "Trespass again, and you’ll regret it."

And with that, he turned around once more.

This time, neither of them dared to stop him.

The man remained sprawled across the ground, his eyes wide in disbelief.

The woman didn’t speak again. Her lips quivered, but she made no attempt to approach.

She simply stared at the back of her son as he walked away again—further this time.

Harry didn’t glance back again. His eyes narrowed as he walked, noticing the rising murmurs around him.

"Wait... did he just...?"

"...He pissed himself—! Oh my god—"

"That was disgusting..."

More people were stopping now. A few cars even slowed down, their passengers craning their necks to see what the commotion was about.

"I knew it," someone said. "That’s Harry Ainsworth."

"No doubt. That’s him. Same guy who topped the rankings in Vane Academy. And practically won the tournament!"

"Holy shit, really?"

More heads turned towards Harry, taking a closer look at his face.

A loud laugh suddenly broke amidst the crowd, coming from a young teenager.

"Serves that guy right. Did you see that? Man tried to throw a fireball and got disgraced instead."

"He pissed himself," someone else chuckled. "No seriously, he legit pissed himself. What a joke."

"...Wait, who were those even two?"

"I dunno. His relatives maybe?"

"I heard them say they’re his parents."

The word sparked something among the crowd, and their time shifted instantly.

"What? His parents?!"