CHAPTER 125: CHAPTER 124: I’M OUTTA HERE!

He hit the ground hard, his hood falling off. Three rough-looking men emerged from the shadows, surrounding him.

"Jackpot!" one of them laughed, slapping the other on the back. "Hahaha! Look what wandered right into our net."

"Tie him properly," ordered the tallest one, stepping forward with a coil of rope. "Let’s not get sloppy."

But before he could even kneel—

Axelius stood up, brushing dust from his clothes with a sigh that made it seem like he was more annoyed by the dirt than the fact that he had just been kidnapped.

"Really now, if you’re going to ambush someone, at least pick a better spot. And next time, try not to mess up their cloak. This one took days to stitch by hand," he muttered, flicking the edge of his now-dirty sleeve and giving it a half-hearted shake as if that would somehow fix the damage.

"Looks like Millie will fix it again." Owen said.

The men glanced at each other and laughed and continue to their plan, "Look at those eyes. That’s a noble’s brat if I ever saw one," said the tallest one, licking his lips. "His eyes will fetch a high price."

"He’s the Dravenhart kid, right? The one without mana?" said the third, voice low and greedy.

"Obviously Idiot! Why do you think his hair is black? "

"Because He’s manaless?"

"Yeah!"

"Are we dealing with trouble again?" Owen jump down,

"Let’s make this quick, okay? I don’t have time to play with garbage."

The tallest man, growing impatient, stepped forward again, now holding a short sword in one hand and the rope in the other,

"Look at this little noble brat. He thinks he’s untouchable just because he talks fancy. you bleed the same as anyone else."

Axelius raised an eyebrow, then shrugged lazily, "Why guys like you love to talk too much?"

Without warning, Owen launched forward—not like a fast projectile but like a stretching, expanding blob that moved with unnatural speed, as Owen slammed into the man’s face like a burst of thick air, knocking the sword from his hand and causing the rope to fall to the ground with a thud.

The man gasped, stumbling backward as if hit by something heavy, his eyes going wide as he clutched at his throat and tried to understand what just struck him.

His companions didn’t know what was happening, only that their leader was suddenly choking, his face red, and his knees hitting the cobbled stone as he fell to the ground trying to breathe.

"W-what the hell?!" shouted the second man, pulling out a curved dagger and rushing forward.

Axelius stepped slightly to the side as the dagger slashed toward him, missing by inches, and before the man could swing again, Axelius drove his fist hard into the man’s stomach, right below the ribs, his small frame twisting just enough to add weight behind the blow.

The man’s breath exploded from his lungs in a wheezing gasp, the dagger slipping from his hand as he staggered backward, eyes wide, clutching his gut and falling to his knees with a strained groan.

"H-How is he... strong...?" the man muttered in disbelief, slumping over with his hands still gripping his stomach, pain written across his face as if he had been struck by a grown warrior, not a kid.

Axelius stared down at him then stepped onto his back with one foot, pressing him to the ground with an almost lazy force, His cold eyes rose to meet the last man still standing, who had taken a single step back in hesitation.

"I’ll give you three seconds to run," Axelius said,

But before the man could decide, the man beneath Axelius shouted through gritted teeth, "Don’t you fucking run! He’s just a kid, damn it! Just a kid—!"

Axelius applied more pressure with his foot, pinning the man tighter to the stone floor as the standing thug hesitated, torn between fear and whatever shred of pride he still had left.

Axelius, who now reached down slowly, picking up the dagger the first man had dropped. He turned it once in his hand, testing the weight, and then, with a small, unsettling smile, brought the blade close to his face, his tongue lightly trailing the flat edge as if tasting something sweet.

"So," Axelius spoke, "you plan to take my eyes out here in this alley?"

And then he looked down, crouching slightly over the man beneath him, his fingers already gripping the man’s hair as he forced his head to the side. The man screamed—but only for half a second.

Owen, resting on Axelius’s shoulder until now, surged forward like a whip of air and wrapped himself around the man’s mouth, silencing the scream instantly.

"Stop squirming," Axelius muttered, pinning the man’s head with one hand.

The last man stood frozen, too horrified to move, his legs refusing to respond as he watched the noble boy press the dagger’s edge against the side of his comrade’s face with a steady hand—no tremble, no flinch.

"Please—" the standing man finally breathed, barely a whisper. But he already knew it wouldn’t help.

Axelius spoke softly, like a lullaby. "You wanted my eyes first, didn’t you? So it’s only fair I borrow yours."

He stood up slowly, wiped the blood on the man’s cloak without looking at him again, and then turned to face the last man who still stood frozen, too scared to move or even breathe too loudly, because everything about the boy in front of him didn’t feel like a boy anymore.

With a faint grin, Axelius raised the eye into the air waving it slightly from side to side, and said in a light voice, "Look, it’s your friend’s eye."

The man’s face turned pale instantly, his mouth parting in horror as a cold chill ran down his spine like ice had replaced his bones, and he took a step back, eyes shaking.

"D-Damn it—! I’m outta here! You fucking psycho!" he shouted, finally turning and running as fast as he could, stumbling once before catching his step and dashing toward the far edge of the alley where it opened up into the street.