The Legendary Fool

Chapter 92: Alaan Zenari

Arriving early to class served one key purpose that Tom had been banking on. He had considered and ruled out many plans to lure out his target in a secluded area of the Academy.

Ultimately, he had decided that a play on the truth would serve his purposes best. His target, Alaan Zenari was indeed a member of the Zenari family. And it was also true that the Zenari Family were being schemed against, on the road to suffer potentially great harm due to the Nottrakon Family’s scheming.

He just had to craft bait that weaved a story that was compelling enough to the sensibilities of a young adult who had been trained to become a pillar of support for his family.

‘Alaan Zenari.

The Zenari family is in danger. Come to the fourth floor’s dressing booth and come alone if you wish to know why.

I will be waiting for you, four hours after this class ends.

Make sure you are not followed, or you will blow your only chance at getting a glimpse at the nature of the threat.

Regards,

A friend.’

He slipped the note inside the open pedestal that was designed to fit underneath the table, sticking it on it’s roof so it would not be easily visible to any passer-bys. Normally, there would be a risk that the recipient of his message would never check his storage drawer properly and miss the elaborately crafted bait, however, Tom wasn’t dealing with normal people.

As long as Alaan Zenari used his drawer to store anything, his enhanced proprioception would make sure that he noticed.

Nodding to himself, Tom returned to his lectern.

The class started not long after and Tom ended up employing the same strategy he had earlier. The second years seemed much more accustomed to surprise changes in curriculum, so Tom faced only a fraction of the first year’s initial confusion.

He had decided to play it safe, choosing a fairly tame topic for discussion. Tom gave the students only 20 minutes to discuss amongst themselves instead of the thirty he had given the first years, but even then their presentations could not be considered lacking in the slightest.

In truth, Tom only had his attention directed towards one student and when Alaan Zenari’s gaze shifted downwards, towards the open drawer almost a minute before he left the classroom, presumably headed towards a secluded area to read the letter.

As Tom had suspected, Noble Scions weren’t exactly uninitiated when it came to clandestine means of communication.

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The rest of the class went by without incident, with Alaan Zenari returning to his seat with an inscrutable expression fifteen minutes after he had left.

“That will be all for today,” Tom declared, a minute or so after the last presentation had concluded.

The reason why Tom was reasonably confident that Alaan Zenari would be confident enough to take the bait he had laid out was simple. The Academy was a safe haven for Noble Scions, to the point where even the ruthless Nottrakon Family wasn’t brazen enough to assassinate Valeria on its grounds.

After all, it was not as if the Noble Families in question were not capable or did not possess the resources to train and educate their own children, no. It was merely more advantageous for them to send their wards to the Academy, where they would be taught in an environment that encouraged competition and allowed them to network amongst students with a similar social standing.

And in the event that even a single assassination or even grievous harm was caused to one of the Academy students within its premises, the Noble Families would simply pull back their wards and begin to educate them at home.

That would rob the Nottrakon Family of the spy network they had painstakingly built within the Academy’s walls, thus naturally such an event could not be allowed to happen.

Thus, Tom was not particularly surprised when a knock rapped against the dressing booth that had a ‘repair work in progress’ sign.

Tom didn’t answer.

A knock rapped again, before the door was slightly pushed open. Seeing no obvious sign of trouble, Alaan Zenari stepped inside.

Tom, who had been crouched low in one corner of the room that positioned him at Alaan’s blindspot as he entered the dressing booth, on top of an elegant marble sink, used that opportunity to spring forward empowered by Lifeblood’s augmentation ability.

His fist crashed against Alaan’s stationary figure. Or at least it should have.

Tom’s expression behind the black mask he was wearing twisted into a grimace as he realized that he had been had. The Alaan before him dissolved into motes of light, as the real one, who had moved at speed that rivaled, nay, exceeded Tom’s own retaliated from his side.

It was only his instincts that allowed Tom to gauge the threat, putting forward his crossed arms to guard his chest.

A light encased fist slammed down on his arms, the sheer quickness behind the attack generating enough momentum to send Tom slamming against the slightly open dressing room door, closing it with a loud slam.

However, one such blow wasn’t enough to fell the physical powerhouse that Tom had become.

He recovered quickly from the impact of the blow and retaliated with a quick jab to the sternum that was easily evaded.

Tom found himself embroiled in a melee with his slightly quicker opponent, a flurry of hooks and jabs interspersed by well-timed dodges following through.

During the furious, minute-long exchange, Tom realized that while his opponent was slightly faster than him, his Soul Card didn’t significantly increase the strength behind his blows.

Tom allowed a blow to sneak past his defenses as he shout back with a hook of his own. Alaan’s punch hurt for sure, but it didn’t do much else beyond that. The liver shot he was going for though, did a lot more as his punch managed to snake past his guard.

Alaan was sent reeling backwards a few steps as he gasped for air, giving Tom the opening he needed to fight through the pain and sneak behind him.

Only as he locked Alaan in the armbar and took hold of his right hand did he realize what had happened.

Even has he was choking him out, Alaan struggled with every bit of strength he had, landing one light encased blow after the next on his left thigh with his free hand.

Thankfully, Tom only had to endure the onslaught for a few seconds longer, before he fainted and Tom eased his grip.

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