Arknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 94

Chapter 94: Saving the Beautiful Teacher (?)

Peterheim Middle School was being consumed by a roaring inferno.

Plunging from the night sky, Lucian rapidly closed the distance to the blazing structure. Gripping the outer ledge of a third-story window with one hand, he swung his body weight forward like an airborne shock trooper, shattering the glass with both boots as he breached the room.

The only difference between him and a special forces operative was the distinct lack of a rappel line—and the fact that he could manipulate gravity to fly.

But the moment he rushed into the blistering heat, he froze in his tracks.

“Oh my god, is this destroying evidence?”

[Lucian! Such vulgar language! You should only say things like that when you’re in bed with your wife, or when she’s scolding you!]

Exusiai’s voice crackled over his earpiece, perfectly mimicking Mostima’s sultry cadence in a blatant attempt to lighten the mood.

Lucian shook his head violently, his expression grim. “No, Exusiai, I’m serious. There’s no one alive in here. It’s just a pile of corpses.” He paused, his eyes sweeping the carnage. “Dismembered ones.”

Before the flames could fully engulf the space, Lucian quickly analyzed the room. Dozens of students must have been crammed into this single area for the night. The floor was littered with highly flammable sleeping mats and cheap blankets—perfect kindling. Once the spark caught, it was over in seconds.

But there wasn’t a single breath of life left to save. Mutilated bodies were strewn across the floor, their stiffening hands still gripping makeshift weapons. A brutal firefight had broken out here. Who were they fighting? Did the killer start the blaze to cover their tracks?

Before he could piece the grim puzzle together, a shrill, panicked scream echoed from the corridor outside.

“—Stay away from us!”

It was a young girl’s voice.

Lucian bolted out of the burning room. Sprinting down the darkened school corridor, he tracked the terrified cries, rounding a sharp intersection to find the source.

Several young girls were backed into a dead end, cornered by a pack of older male students. The men made no attempt to hide their malicious intent, pinning the struggling girls to the cold floor and tearing at their uniforms. One of the victims—a taller, more mature-looking girl who Lucian immediately assumed was a teacher—was being restrained against the wall, her clothes soaked with helpless tears.

A cold, blinding fury spiked in Lucian’s chest.

Manipulating the gravity around him, he accelerated instantly, his body hovering just inches above the floor as he shot forward like a fired railgun projectile. He launched himself into the air.

A devastating, gravity-enhanced Rider Kick.

The sickening crunch of shattering ribs echoed down the hall as the men pinning the ‘teacher’ were blasted away, tumbling into the far corner like discarded bloody rags.

Lucian exhaled a slow breath. “Justice, executed.”

Natalia was a student at one of Chernobog’s most prestigious aristocratic academies.

Hailing from a newly ascendant noble family within the Ursus Empire, she had been groomed from birth with the finest education and the most opulent lifestyle. She was the quintessential elite youth, possessing talents that perfectly matched her high birth. Her parents treasured her as the jewel of their bloodline, and her father had already made the unmatched decision to pass his Count title directly to her, inducting her into the high society of Ursus nobility ahead of schedule.

If the world hadn’t suddenly turned upside down, Natalia would have become the shining paragon of the new generation, gracefully ascending the political stage of the Empire. She would have managed vast territories, lucrative assets, and thousands of subjects, securing her family’s prosperity while enjoying a lifetime of wealth and glory.

But at seventeen, her gilded life violently derailed, and the tracks behind her were destroyed forever.

“Please, don’t…”

Natalia’s tears had almost run dry, her delicate body trembling violently against the wall.

Just moments ago, the room housing the male aristocratic students had suddenly erupted in flames, the blistering heat wave bleeding through the walls. That room was the only warehouse in the entire school that still held food rations. Panic had seized her classmates; in their blind terror, some had even tried to charge into the inferno. It was Natalia who had forcefully stopped them, dragging the girls away to escape the blaze.

But the fire had drawn other, far more dangerous attention.

The commoner students, harboring deep-seated hatred for the nobility, had spotted the flames.

“Those Ursus-damned nobles’ room is on fire!”

“Food! Go grab the food!”

Driven to the brink of starvation and madness, the commoners—who had previously been too intimidated by the aristocrats’ status to rebel—finally snapped. Their minds were entirely clouded by a feral, desperate rage.

Natalia’s group had the tragic misfortune of running directly into them. Recognizing the pristine uniforms and delicate features of the noble girls, the mob immediately swarmed them.

A burly, unkempt male student grabbed Natalia’s wrist, his grip so crushing she felt her bones grinding together. “I know you! You’re the leader of those stuck-up noble bitches!” he snarled, spit flying from his lips. “Not only did you hoard all the food from us, but you burned it all down?! You wretched whores!”

“No!” Natalia cried out. “The fire wasn’t us—”

Smack.

The man’s calloused palm struck Natalia’s cheek with brutal force, leaving a burning, stinging welt. To preserve her flawless aristocratic grace, not even her strictest tutors or her own parents had ever raised a hand against her. Every inch of her skin had been treated as a carefully curated work of art.

Now, she was being handled like garbage.

No, not garbage. The men were looking at her with a different kind of hunger.

The student holding her took a deep, ragged sniff, a guttural grunt escaping his throat. “I-I say we drag ’em back! This woman… she smells so damn good. They’ve even been bathing!”

“We don’t even have enough water to drink, and these bitches are washing themselves! We haven’t wiped the grime off in half a month!”

“Damn noble sluts… The warehouse is gone anyway. Let them pay for it! Let everyone judge them!”

Judgment! Judgment! Judgment!

The crude mob chanted the word like a twisted mantra of justice, their bloodshot eyes gleaming with fanatical hatred… and filthy, unrestrained lust.

Natalia was not entirely naive. Her complete education had included the delicate arts of using her body to secure a husband’s favor after marriage—though it was strictly theoretical knowledge. She knew exactly what these men wanted, and what they were about to do.

And the nightmare had already begun.

The impatient boys began tearing violently at the other girls’ uniforms, intentionally leaving Natalia untouched for the moment, forcing her to watch the degradation.

“Lady Natalia! Please, save us!” her terrified classmates shrieked, reaching out to her.

Natalia opened her mouth, but her throat was completely paralyzed. No sound emerged.

She was consumed by a primal terror, her legs turning to jelly, entirely incapable of supporting her own weight. If the man wasn’t gripping her wrist, she would have collapsed into a heap on the floor. In that agonizing moment, all her ingrained noble dignity, her pride, her sense of aristocratic responsibility—it all evaporated into the smoke-filled air.

Faced with the desperate pleas of her friends, she was entirely powerless, too broken by fear to even utter a single syllable of protest. She could only close her eyes and pray in absolute despair.

She prayed to the heavens to grant her a swift, noble death, just so she wouldn’t have to endure the impending defilement.

Well, the Saints of Laterano did not hear her prayer.

But a former Holy Son arrived anyway.

“Justice, executed.”

The words cut through the chaos like a blade. Everyone in the corridor—men and women, standing or pinned to the floor—froze in stunned silence.

Only Lucian moved. His cold eyes locked onto the man gripping Natalia.

With a fluid, brutal pivot, he delivered a devastating kick straight to the man’s face, sending teeth scattering across the linoleum. He didn’t stop there. Moving with ruthless efficiency, Lucian delivered several more crushing stomps to the groaning men on the ground, specifically targeting their groins. He ensured that any part of them that was supposed to be hard was permanently reduced to mush. They would never harbor such thoughts again in this lifetime.

“I, Lucian, despise rapists more than anything else in this world!” he declared, his voice dripping with disgust.

‘Well, consensual roleplay is an exception,’he thought to himself,’but this sure as hell isn’t that.’

His fury spent, Lucian’s demeanor softened instantly. He knelt beside the sobbing girls, gently picking up the torn remnants of their uniforms and draping the fabric over their trembling shoulders.

“It’s alright now,” he said, his voice a warm, grounding anchor in the nightmare. “No one is going to hurt you anymore.”

The girls, who looked to be around Angelina’s age, wept openly, nodding their heads in frantic gratitude.

Finally, Lucian turned his attention to Natalia, who was still slumped against the wall, staring at him with wide, hollow eyes. He stepped forward, extending a steady, gloved hand toward her, his expression entirely serious.

“I will protect you. Stand up, Miss Teacher.”