Chapter 45 - Wesley's Temperament (3)

Wesley simply stared at the bashful youth who seemed to own the very ground he was sitting on and sighed inwardly. Wesley smiled kindly at the youth and spoke:

"My apologies. I didn’t know that this was your tree."

After Wesley finished speaking, he slowly got up and started dusting off his pants. As he was dusting his pants and about to leave, the blue-robed student spoke again:

"Oh… Mind leaving your shirt behind for me to sit on? You seem to have dirtied the ground."

"Young master..."

"Quiet."

One of the red-robed students tried to say something to the blue-robed student but was silenced promptly. The red-robed students shot Wesley an apologetic smile as he took a step back to where the other red-robed students were.

Seeing this exchange, Wesley couldn’t help but feel down. He somehow attracted all the spoiled brats that this world had to offer. It almost felt like they sought him out for no reason. However, looking at the two swords at his hip, he knew the reason.

Swordsmanship is considered a commoner's practice, and the students at this academy are mostly nobles. They just can’t help but see anyone with a sword as beneath them. Wesley simply shook his head while smiling and spoke again:

"Little Junior, let us be reasonable."

Hearing Wesley's words, the blue-robed student's eyes almost turned red, and his proud countenance shifted to one of rage. He roared at Wesley:

"What junior, you bastard? I am a second-year student!"

Seeing the youth's reaction, Wesley was astonished. This youth was apparently a second-year student who had failed to advance to the next class.

Suddenly, Wesley felt playful and somewhat vengeful as he honed in on this youth's greatest insecurity. He spoke with mock surprise on his face:

"Second-year? Little Junior, are you colorblind? You’re wearing blue, while second-years wear red. You know, like this."

Wesley pointed to his own uniform as he spoke. The blue-robed youth was so enraged that the lines from his frown would most definitely leave permanent marks. The student glared at Wesley, as if imagining how to make him suffer the most.

"Trash. You dare mock me? I’ll show you."

The blue-robed student muttered something beneath his breath, and a few seconds later, a fierce fireball appeared in his hand. The student looked at the fireball, then at Wesley, hoping to see some sort of fear—only to find Wesley giving him a thumbs up.

"Is this what you wanted to show me, Little Junior? It is indeed a pretty ball of flames. Can you do some tricks?"

Hearing Wesley's words, the blue-robed student fumed. He felt his vision tunnel as he focused on the approvingly nodding and smiling Wesley. He immediately tossed the fireball toward Wesley while shouting:

"Die, trash!"

The Fire Ball rushed towards Wesley who was only ten feet away. Wesley noticed that this fireball was extremely wobbly and its course weak. Wesley now understood why this youth failed to pass on to the next level. This amount of skill was pitiful, in fact, Wesley was wondering how he even managed to pass the entrance examination.

Wesley waited until the fireball was with half a feet of him and then he leaned slightly to the left. The fireball has been so wobbly that by the time it reached Wesley, it was almost off target. All Wesley had to do was lean away slightly and it passed by him.

Wesley looked back at the blue robed youth who was now glaring at him while heaving heavy breaths and spoke:

"Little Junior. This is unacceptable. With this level of skill, you won't be able to become a second year student and you'll wear blue for another year."

The blue robed student could almost spit blood. This person he approached seemed to be a horrible bastard who clung on to a person greatest insecurity like a leach until every single drop of blood has been sucked.

Wesley continued speaking in his seemingly sincere tone while viciously attacking the blue robed student:

"Ah, I know. Little Junior, you magic is utter trash, but you could definitely become a swordsman. I could even tutor you..."

Wesley paused for a moment as if in deep thought, and then he continued speaking in a dejected voice:

"Never mind, Little Junior. Swordsmanship also requires talent and skill, so you won't be able to learn it as well."

"Wesley, you're pushing it."

One of the red robed students behind the blue robed youth spoke while the blue robed youth himself was starring daggers at Wesley with a loss for words. Wesley looked at the red robed students and smiled amiably as he spoke:

"Oh. Fellow Second Year Student, I apologize. Haha."

Wesley laughed as he walked past the blue robed youth who seemed shocked still. He has emphasized the words ' Fellow Second Year Student' on purpose in order to irk the blue robed youth further.

Wesley hardly ever bothered with anyone, but if someone, somehow managed to annoy him, then Wesley wouldn’t waste even a speck of restraint on that person. Fortunately, for this student, Wesley was not allowed to kill or injure other students, or he might have already stepped over his lifeless body.

After Wesley was gone for almost a minute, the blue robed youth turned to his followers and barked:

"You Useless bastards. How dare you let him speak to me like that."

The four students all looked down looking meek. The one who spoke to Wesley spoke up again:

"Young master, we tried to tell you. That was Wesley"

"Who the hell is this Wesley?"

"Young master. You missed last year's ranking competition. Wesley made a name for himself that day. No one in the second class doesn’t know about him."

The scene of Wesley dismantling not one but two mages after they had already invoked their spells has been imprinted deep into the minds of many of his classmates. No mage believed they could beat a swordsman in one on one combat, but they still believed that they were more powerful than a mage if only they were given the chance to invoke, however, this was not the case in front of Wesley.

"Wesley. Wesley."

The blue robed youth stared at the way Wesley went with murder in his eyes. He has never been so humiliated his entire life, let alone being looked down upon.