Gunmage-Chapter 230: A room full of dust and warnings

"Well, you’ll see for yourself."

Upon hearing the news that there were other guests in attendance, most of the Von Heims instinctively inspected their appearances.

Though the scale of the earlier exchange had been nothing short of catastrophic, the visible damage to them was minimal.

A few had stumbled to the floor under the aftershock of Selaphiel’s sonic attack, and the air still shimmered faintly with displaced dust, but otherwise, they had emerged relatively unscathed.

The dust, clinging stubbornly to the folds of their elaborate clothing, posed the only real threat to their presentation.

Fortunately, the fine fabric and dark tones of their garments were chosen with care—seemingly by someone who had anticipated that such chaos might occur.

And perhaps, Selaphiel truly had foreseen it.

Xhi was the first to speak, her voice calm but curt.

"I’m heading back to the room."

A glance at her threadbare nightclothes made the reason abundantly clear. The flimsy material hung loosely around her form, wholly unsuitable for extended company.

"I’ll also be heading back,"

Lyra added.

But before any of their curious stares could settle on her, she added quickly,

"To change. Your fancy clothes kinda make me feel out of place."

She crossed her arms and let out a sharp huff.

"In the first place, this was supposed to be a duel, not a social gathering."

Then came Lugh, his voice low but undeniably clear.

"I’ll be following you."

Everyone turned. Instantly. Without exception, all eyes snapped toward him. Yet Lugh seemed utterly unaffected.

He met no one’s gaze, his pale, blank expression unreadable. He neither flinched nor hesitated. His face was the same cold, expressionless mask he once always wore.

Selaphiel’s brows drew together into a frown, her voice slicing through the room.

"That wouldn’t be very appropriate now, would it?"

Her words echoed the unspoken thoughts of everyone present. Was he serious? The absurdity of the suggestion hovered in the room like a bad smell.

But Lugh ignored her entirely. He didn’t even glance in her direction. His eyes remained fixed forward, devoid of emotion.

"At this point,"

He began,

"I don’t really care."

He moved forward, matching pace with the girls. His steps were mechanical, as if powered by something outside of himself.

Aveline moved in close to Selaphiel, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"It’s happening again, isn’t it?"

Selaphiel didn’t reply. Her brows deepened into a crease, but she said nothing.

She could have stopped him, should have—by position, by authority, by right. But she didn’t.

There were things she had learned, harsh lessons, once ignored, that trying to exert too much control over a person only bred resistance.

She would not repeat those mistakes. Not again.

So she let Lugh go. For now. If only for today.

But just as the trio reached the door, a hand extended from the side and blocked their path. It was the butler.

"I’m sorry,"

He said evenly.

"But I cannot allow that to happen."

Lugh’s eyes fell to the hand in front of him. He didn’t move, but something in his gaze darkened. His expression clouded.

No one could tell what was running through his head, but the change was there—subtle, slow, dangerous.

Lyra stepped forward, brushing the butler’s arm aside with a scoff.

"Oh, buzz off. This isn’t any of your business."

"Oh, but it is,"

The butler replied without hesitation.

"A young man being invited into the room of a maiden from House Cross is a troubling matter. Such news, if it got out, could severely damage the reputation of our noble house. Also, as your brother—" freeweɓnovel~cѳm

"Hold it right there."

Lyra’s voice sharpened like a blade.

She stepped forward now, her eyes narrowing.

"First of all, I’m no longer a member of the Cross family. I’ve been disowned. Or did you forget that part?"

For the first time, the supposed butler’s pristine demeanor faltered. His expression, though still composed, was now visibly tinged with disapproval.

Lyra wasn’t finished.

"And second,"

She said, voice firmer now,

"You are not my brother."

The air shifted. Everyone felt it—the tension thickening into something solid. They didn’t know the history behind these words, but the emotional weight was unmistakable.

Xhi had already begun dragging Lugh toward the door when the man, obstinate to the end, doubled down.

"I don’t like repeating myself,"

He said coldly.

"The boy stays here."

Lugh’s chest began to rise and fall more rapidly, his breathing shallow and sharp.

He closed his eyes and tried to inhale slowly, exhale evenly. Once. Twice. Again. But the rhythm wasn’t holding. He was losing grip on something, something clawing to be released.

What was it?

Was it anger?

But Lugh didn’t feel anger—not in the way others did. His chest burned, his limbs stiffened, his head buzzed.

But why?

Was it Xhi’s voice in his mind?

No, that wasn’t it. There was something else.

The air began to tremble around him, so subtle that only those with trained senses noticed it first. Small objects rattled, vibrating in resonance with something deep inside him.

Xhi turned her gaze to him, then flicked to Lyra. Her voice was calm but tinged with a rising urgency.

"We need to get him out of here. Now. Away from people."

Still, the butler stood his ground, completely blind to the shift in the atmosphere.

"He is not—"

"READ THE ROOM, YOU IDIOT!"

Lyra shouted.

A half-shredded painting crashed from the wall, slamming into the floor with a violent thud. It didn’t stop there—it continued to quiver, twitching like a wounded animal.

Now, everyone noticed.

The entire room began to tremble. Debris bounced off the floors and walls, jittering like panicked insects. The air thickened. Each breath came with resistance.

A congealed pressure poured out of Lugh like spilled ink—mana, raw and unchecked, gushing from his body in waves.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just stood there—silent, still, monstrous. An omen in the shape of a boy.

Zhou’s eyes widened.

"Selaphiel... what have you done?"

"I didn’t do anything,"

The Von Heim elf snapped back, already preparing to move.

BOOM!

The reinforced glass windows, warped by the pressure, shattered in a concussive burst.

Shards exploded outward in a glittering wave, a roar echoing across the estate.

"Lugh!"

Lyra screamed—but her voice was drowned out.

The sound of vibration had reached a crescendo, deafening and maddening.

The younger Von Heims were huddled together now, eyes wide with terror. Edrin and Sylvera stood protectively in front of them, along with Jahira, the elf, ready to bear the brunt of whatever might come.

Zhou had already shifted into a battle stance.

As for the butler—his legs had given out. He was no longer standing.

Selaphiel acted, her lips parting as if to sing. A melody, soft and unnatural, slipped into the air—somehow piercing through the wall of noise.

It threaded through Lugh’s mind like a silken cord, lulling him, sedating him. He didn’t collapse like before, not entirely. But the pressure around him lessened—reduced just enough to matter.

"Get him out of here!"

Selaphiel shouted.

Without a second thought, Lyra hoisted Lugh—in his drunken like state—and, with Xhi at her side, vanished from the room.

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦