The black-haired boy punched him in the face again and again until Torla finally frothed at the mouth and passed out from sheer terror and pain.
Right now, a single, burning question consumed my thoughts.
Just who in the world was he? At first, his ruthless, merciless actions and the chilling aura that clung to him made me view him as a threat far more dangerous than any Evil Army Officer. But catching a glimpse of his behavior, his words, and his convictions made me realize that my initial impression had been dead wrong.
He was certainly not good, and his actions were unquestionably evil. There was no mistaking that. Yet he was not like the Evil Army, scattering mindless destruction and despair; he acted on a bedrock of steadfast personal conviction. The methods he used to achieve those convictions were simply so extreme and far removed from common sense that the end result merely manifested as evil.
The surrounding onlookers seemed to grasp this on an intuitive level, too. The crowd, once paralyzed with horror at the savage violence he had unleashed upon Salama, now simply looked uncomfortable. Hardly any of them seemed to harbor fear toward him anymore. Seeing the black-haired boy—his refusal to flatter or yield to anyone, his overwhelming strength, and his unbending conviction—must have struck a chord in each of them.
At the very least, his actions and words had resonated far deeper in their hearts than any preachiness from on high ever could have.
"What is the meaning of this commotion?!"
Figures clad in dark blue robes—instructors from the Tower, by the looks of them—pushed their way through the crowd and marched toward us.
Clicking his tongue softly, the black-haired boy gave the unconscious Torla's cheeks a few light slaps.
"Bwah...? Gyahhh—?!"
Torla's eyes fluttered open lazily, only to let out a shrill shriek the instant he saw the black-haired boy towering over him.
"Keep it down. Shut up."
Intimidated by nothing more than the boy's glare, Torla desperately clapped both hands over his own mouth.
"Listen close, kid. Even if you're just coasting on your parents' coattails, standing above others comes with immense responsibility."
"Responsibility...?"
As Torla parroted the word back at him, the corner of the boy's mouth curled into a smirk.
"That's right. If you plan on inheriting your family's position, remember this much: those who stand on the side of a king hold the lives of countless people in their hands. And those lives can be easily wiped away by a single act of stupidity from people in power like you."
He ground out each word of the warning with deliberate weight.
"..."
Torla stared back in stunned, pale-faced silence.
"I'll say it one more time. If Lorelei intends to make an enemy of me, I'll take you on anytime. I show zero mercy to those who cross me. I will crush you until not a single trace of your organization is left standing. If you push me, countless Elves will die because of your decision alone. Keep that in mind, and make your choice however you like."
With that parting shot, he tossed Torla carelessly to the ground.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
One of the instructors, an Elf man, marched up to the black-haired boy and bellowed.
"Stop screeching. I can hear you just fine."
"I asked what you did to them!"
"Beats me. Why don't you ask them yourself?"
The boy glanced over at the still-unconscious Elves, then back down at Torla.
"Hey—!"
Just as the Elf instructor reached out to grab the boy's shoulder—
"He was merely bringing the situation under control."
A woman wearing a deep white hood stepped forward from the crowd to offer an explanation for the chaos.
"Who are you?! What's your business here?! Are you working with him?!"
"Take off that hood!"
Another instructor roughly yanked the hood from her head, revealing a breathtaking Elf woman with golden blonde hair. The moment they saw her face—
"L-L-Lady Avery! Forgive our insolence!"
The Elf instructor instantly recoiled from the black-haired boy, snapped to attention, and saluted. The moment the name Avery left his lips, the other instructors scrambled in a panic to straighten up as well.
"Allow me to explain the circumstances. I have been watching the situation unfold, albeit from partway through."
"So? Does that mean I can go?"
The black-haired boy rested a hand on his hip, closed one eye, and asked.
"Yes. This matter is a disgrace to our nation. I shall take full responsibility for handling it. Would that be acceptable?"
Pressing her right hand against her voluptuous chest, she offered the black-haired boy a respectful bow before turning a sharp gaze toward the Elf instructor.
"Y-yes! Of course, my Lady!"
Leaving the instructor stiff with nerves, the black-haired boy let out a dismissive snort and began walking toward the Tower.
The crowd parted unnaturally before him, and I stared blankly after his majestic, retreating figure.
"Please, allow me to offer my deepest apologies to you as well for my nephew's terrible insolence."
The blonde Elf woman bowed to me, then stepped over to the girl Torla had struck and hovered both hands over her face. In an instant, the faint redness lingering on the girl's cheek vanished without a trace. Next, she approached the unconscious Ket, resting her chin on her hand as she murmured to herself:
"He is... fully healed, isn't he? If that is the case, then that miracle water must be..."
"Lady Avery?"
Prompted by the massive robed man standing beside her, she shook her head.
"No, it is nothing. Gastalt, please carry them respectfully to the estate."
"Understood!"
The towering Elf hoisted the still-unconscious Ket and the other fallen Elves onto his broad shoulders and set off.
"Shall we be on our way, then?"
With a gentle, serene smile, Avery urged us forward.