Chapter 36: SebastianTheUnbothered
My phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Then it exploded in notifications.
I squinted at the screen—
Ashtagram:Your post is blowing up!
No kidding. The like counter was spinning faster than a mana compressor.
Comments: 437 and rising.
I scrolled through the chaos, grinning.
@AlectraTheSerene:
WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. THIS?!Why are you posing in front of what looks like a war crime??
Is that the Imperial training ground??
Why is Belle there?? Why are there burning corpses in the background??
I smirked and typed back immediately.
@SebastianTheUnbothered (me):
Oh that? Just another Monday.
Belle got dramatic again, so I made content out of it. #Efficiency
@AlectraTheSerene:
CONTENT??
SEBASTIAN, THAT’S A COLLAPSED BUILDING.
@SebastianTheUnbothered:
Relax, no one important died.(Except maybe the prince’s ego.)
There was a pause. Then—
@AlectraTheSerene:
You’re insufferable.
@SebastianTheUnbothered:
I prefer photogenic.
Meanwhile, the real chaos had begun in the comments.
@HolySwordStan69:
Bro really said "training session" and cratered the empire 💀💀💀
@QueenOfSpite:
WHY DOES HE LOOK SO GOOD IN FRONT OF MASS DESTRUCTION THO?? 😭🔥🔥
@ManaDaddy420:
Bro’s aura stronger than my GPA 😩
@JustaPeasant23:
Can confirm, saw the explosion from three districts away.Empire’s finest, everyone 👏👏👏
@Knightly_Karen:
Wait is that BELLE?? THE BELLE ARDENT??I thought she was a myth???
@ChurchOfSebastian (verified):
🕯️ Brothers and sisters, the Chosen One has posted again 🕯️#PraiseThePose #SaintOfSarcasm
@SebastianTheUnbothered:
Love the enthusiasm. Donations go directly to my hair products fund.
@AlectraTheSerene:
You started a cult again, didn’t you.
@SebastianTheUnbothered:
"Again" is such an ugly word. I prefer "consistent community engagement."
The numbers just kept climbing. 10k likes. 20k. 50k.
Even Belle leaned over my shoulder, eyes narrowing at the screen.
"...Why is there a fan account dedicated to your hands?"
I grinned. "Because they’re legendary, Belle. Look ’@GraspOfDeath’ just followed me."
She groaned and turned away, muttering something about "unholy social media."
I scrolled again.
@PrinceOnecent (new account):
I’M NOT DEAD, YOU JERK. STOP TAGGING ME IN THIS.
I blinked at the comment, then tilted my head. "Oh? So you did crawl out of the rubble,"
I murmured, thumb hovering over the reply button. "Tougher than you look, Your Highness."
@SebastianTheUnbothered:
Sorry, force of habit. #RIPAnyway
@HolySwordStan69:
💀💀💀 HE DID NOT #RIPAnyway THE PRINCE 💀💀💀
@AlectraTheSerene:
I’m reporting this post to the Imperial Council.
@SebastianTheUnbothered:
Make sure they tag me. I need the exposure.
Finally, I locked my phone with a satisfied hum.Belle gave me that silent, unreadable look of hers.
"Sebastian," she said softly. "You realize you’ve just broadcast a classified battle, right?"
I shrugged. "And?"
Her eyes narrowed. "And the Emperor is going to kill you."
I grinned, tucking the phone into my coat. "Then I’ll post that too."
And somewhere online, another notification popped up:
@EmperorOfficial:
See me in my office.
@SebastianTheUnbothered:
😎 #BookedAndBusy
And with that, I slipped my phone back into my pocket, utterly satisfied.
Onecent could lick his wounds.
The Order of Nowhere could crawl back to whatever pit they came from.
Because right now, I was trending number one in the Empire and that, to me, was a real victory.
---
I was still basking in the glorious afterglow of online fame head high, grin wide—when I heard it.
"Wait! Stop right there!"
The voice was sharp, commanding, and echoing through the ruined arena. I turned just in time to see a blur of royal blue and white barreling toward us.
Princess Nora. Crown princess of the Empire. Future ruler. Also, apparently, a speedrunner when it came to sprinting in heels.
She was clutching a pen and a notepad, hair slightly messy from running, determination burning in her blue eyes.
I couldn’t help it. My smirk formed automatically. "Oh, I see how it is," I murmured, straightening my coat and adjusting my collar. "Even the princess couldn’t resist the charm."
Belle groaned softly beside me. "Sebastian..."
But it was too late. The smug had already taken hold.
When Nora finally stopped in front of us, panting slightly, I crossed my arms and gave her my best celebrity grin.
"Well, well," I said smoothly. "I usually don’t do royal requests, but—" I dramatically pulled a feather pen out of thin air with a flick of mana. "—for a loyal fan, I suppose I can make an exception. Where do you want it signed? The notebook? Or..." I winked. "The royal decree proclaiming me irresistibly handsome?"
Nora blinked once. Twice. Then wrinkled her nose as if she’d just smelled something foul.
"Are you serious right now?" she said, voice dripping with disgust. "Who in all the nine realms would want your signature?"
I froze. "...Excuse me?"
"You’re not even remotely attractive," she continued, as if listing a tragic fact of life. "You look like a sleep-deprived corpse that tried to cosplay as a noble and failed halfway through."
"Hey—!"
She turned from me immediately, the royal equivalent of swatting away a fly, and faced Belle instead. The shift in tone was instant - from disgust to reverence.
"Lady Belle Ardent," she said, almost breathless now, eyes gleaming. "Could I please have your autograph? I’ve admired you for years - your control over death magic is legendary, and your duel at the border three years ago with the demon king was amazing!"
Belle blinked, clearly surprised, then smiled that soft, knowing, smug smile that she absolutely knew would kill me inside.
"Of course, Your Highness," she said smoothly, kneeling slightly to take the notepad. "It’s always flattering to meet a fan."
A fan.
I stood there, arms limp, mouth slightly open, staring at the two of them like a third wheel in my own humiliation.
Nora was glowing. Belle was radiant. And me?
I was a background character in my own story.
When Belle finished signing, she turned toward me with that tiny, infuriatingly innocent smirk. "Don’t worry, Sebastian," she said sweetly. "Maybe she’ll want yours next time."
I scoffed, turning away with all the wounded pride I could muster. "Tch. Please. Royalty just has bad taste."
From behind me, Nora muttered, "So does your face."
Belle laughed.
And I, truly, spiritually, and cosmically defeated... began reevaluating my life choices.
---
From the upper balcony of the training grounds, General Fallacy Elorn sat with the rest of the nobles, though unlike them, he wasn’t leaning forward in awe or gasping with every clash of steel.
He just watched. Quietly.
One arm rested on his knee, the other draped lazily over the armrest of his chair. His crimson cloak hung heavy with medals, and the faint scar running from his temple to his chin caught the light every time the arena flared with mana.
Below, chaos unfolded.
Sebastian and the Crown Prince were locked in a dance that looked less like a duel and more like a lesson in pain.
Fallacy’s lips twitched. Lesson might’ve been too generous a word, demolition was closer.
The nobles around him murmured in disbelief as the young boy in black toyed with the Empire’s heir, weaving through purifying light with the grace of someone far too comfortable around death.
Every time the prince struck, Sebastian’s counter came with surgical cruelty. Every time the golden aura flared, it dimmed again—eaten, smothered, undone.
"Impossible..." one baron whispered. "The prince’s purification should’ve erased his mana—how is it—?"
"It’s not supposed to do that," another muttered, clutching his drink hard enough to crack the glass.
Fallacy didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink.
He’d seen monsters before.
He’d trained some of them.
But this one, this calm, grinning bastard in the arena, wasn’t just strong. He was comfortable. The kind of comfort that came only from living with danger every waking moment.
When Sebastian took a hit and healed without flinching, Fallacy leaned forward slightly. The movement was small, but for anyone who knew him, it meant something.
Interesting.
He could see it—the faint white glow under the boy’s skin, subtle but there. Life mana. Opposite of death.
Dual affinity, Fallacy thought. Or something worse.
A noble beside him finally found the courage to speak. "General Elorn, should we - shouldn’t we interfere? The prince could die at this rate!"
Fallacy gave him a sideways glance. "Interfere?"
The noble swallowed hard.
Down below, Sebastian disarmed the prince with a flick of his wrist. His sword clattered across the stone.
"I think," Fallacy said, voice low and measured, "if His Majesty wanted interference, he wouldn’t have let the duel start in the first place."
He turned his attention back to the fight.
Sebastian was walking now, blade dragging lazily behind him, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Death mana seeped from him like smoke, curling around his feet, corroding the ground in a slow crawl.
The prince struggled to rise. His face was battered, one eye already swelling shut, but his grip on his sword was still firm.
Fallacy smiled faintly. "Stubborn. That’s good."
He took a slow sip from his glass of wine. "Won’t help him, though."
The nobles gasped as Sebastian muttered something—quiet, rhythmic, reverent. A faint hum filled the air, and Fallacy’s trained eye caught the shift in posture, the precision of motion that came only from structured martial forms.
Sword art, he thought. A real one.
When Sebastian whispered "Breath of Renewal," the aura around him shifted—vibrant and alive, in perfect opposition to the decay that normally followed him. Every step was faster, smoother, revitalized by the pulse of life coursing through his limbs.
And then, when he murmured "Fourth Form—Hollow Thrust," the air itself screamed.
Fallacy’s glass stopped halfway to his lips.
The explosion of force that followed left the crowd breathless. Light shattered. The ground ruptured. And the prince—
The prince’s body convulsed as an invisible force ripped through him, bursting outwards in crimson and shadow.
When the smoke cleared, he was on the ground, barely conscious, limbs mangled, blood dripping from what was left of his arms.
Silence.
The nobles were too stunned to move.
Fallacy exhaled slowly through his nose and set his glass down on the table beside him.
"He held back until now," he murmured, eyes narrowing as the aura around Sebastian began to twist unnaturally. "So that means..."
His gaze slid to the far end of the arena, where the torches flickered violently, reacting to a surge of mana that wasn’t Sebastian’s.
He straightened, expression turning sharp, the faintest flicker of anticipation lighting his scarred face.
"Good," he whispered to himself. "It should start any second now."
And as if on cue— something invisible shot towards Sebastian.