Rise of the Lustful Evil Monarch (Re) - Chapter 130

Chapter 130: The Arcane Linguist (3)
Ethan’s POV

Countless men and women, scholars and mages alike roamed the expanse and each one of them was lost in the world of ink and parchment.

Yet, despite their numbers, a deafening silence enveloped the library.

Not a single voice, not even a whisper, disturbed the air. It was unnatural and eerie even for such a massive place to be devoid of sound.

My mind raced with questions. How could a structure that appeared so modest from the outside house something of this scale within? How was this possible?

My mouth parted slightly in awe as I struggled to rationalize what I was seeing. Before I could form a coherent thought, a smooth yet jarring voice shattered the stillness.

“Who is this bumpkin? Boy, have you never seen the application of Dimensional Expansion in the real world before?”

Hearing it reality snapped back into my focus. I turned toward the source of the condescending remark, and the silence that had once reigned supreme was now filled with hushed murmurs and sharp glances.

Dozens of eyes flickered in our direction with some glaring towards the speaker in silent reprimand.

A refined-looking middle-aged man emerged from the crowd, clad in a luxurious red mage robe embroidered with intricate gold patterns.

He was adorned with an excessive amount of jewelry that included rings, chains, and a gemstone-encrusted brooch—all of which only served to make him look like an overdecorated peacock.

But what stood out most was the unmistakable arrogance gleaming in his gaze.

However, the moment his eyes met mine, something shifted. The confidence in his expression faltered only to be replaced by an almost imperceptible flicker of shock.

I understood the reason immediately. Years of rigorous noble training within Mistborn Castle had instilled in me a commanding presence.

My further mastery of the Eternal Eclipse Ascension technique and the Arctic Sovereign Immortal Body technique further honed that aura and I exuded an air of authority that was impossible to ignore.

And then there was my attire, every one of its pieces was carefully crafted by my master.

She had designed an exclusive wardrobe for me and insisted that I wear only what she deemed fitting.

Dark, regal fabrics with silver or gold embellishments and designs adorned my figure accentuating my otherworldly features and noble stature.

The garments that combined with my natural composure created an unmistakable image of me as the scion of a powerful lineage though my lineage in reality was not that powerful if I didn’t include my beloved master.

I sighed and shook my head slightly at my own thoughts as I found them silly. I had no desire to be vain but reality was as it was.

These were gifts given by fate, and I could not deny them.

The arrogant mage had fallen silent and his sneer was replaced by cautious scrutiny. It was almost amusing, watching him realize the absurdity of his insult.

His gaze lingered on me as if to ask—who exactly was he calling a bumpkin?

I didn’t have any change in my expression as I was not the type to engage in meaningless trash talk—I only knew how to act. In my usual indifferent tone, I asked him,

“Who are you?”

My simple question was laced with magic as a low droning voice reverberated directly in the man’s ears.

The red-robed man in question faltered and his expression twisting into something between troubled and awkward.

His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out of his mouth. His eyes flickered about, scanning the room as though searching for an escape route but one he could not find.

“Che…” I clicked my tongue in disdain in a small but deliberate show of contempt. The sound seemed to ignite something in him as his eyes flashed with anger.

Yet, he was wise enough to swallow whatever retort he had and kept his silence. I paid him no further mind as dealing with such kind of fools was not worth my time.

Virelle who remained quiet and watchful this whole time followed me as I walked toward the first-floor table bathed in sunlight. It offered the best view of the library but it was noticeably unoccupied.

And I could guess the reason behind it. Vampires loathed prolonged exposure to the sun and mostly preferred shadowy and hidden dark corners.

As I settled into my seat, I glanced at Virelle from the corner of my eye. A hesitant expression flickered across her face as though she wanted to say something but was unsure how to voice it.

On my other side, Velcy seemed uncharacteristically uneasy as her embarrassment was evident in the way she shifted uncomfortably.

A sense of wrongness settled over me.

Before I could question Virelle, the same jarring voice shattered the quiet but now it carried an even greater intensity than before.

“Why are you so late, you dimwitted girl? You made your teacher wait for such a long time!”

I turned my gaze back to the red-robed man, now pointing a rigid finger at Velcy and his tone was sharp and unforgiving.

His crimson eyes burned with irritation but I could tell this was more than mere impatience. He was venting and releasing the frustration he had swallowed during our earlier encounter but was using Velcy as his outlet.

Something clicked in my mind. A realization.

I turned my attention to Virelle and our eyes met as I asked for a silent confirmation. She had been watching the entire exchange with an unreadable expression.

When my gaze locked onto hers, she hesitated but then after a beat, she gave a small nod.

So, he was Velcy’s teacher. That Arcane Linguist.

My eyes drifted back to him and narrowed slightly as I examined his posture, his expression, and the way he carried himself. He was irritated and embarrassed.

And was trying to assert dominance after I had stripped him of it moments ago.

And yet, even as he berated Velcy, I could see the tension in his stance.