Transmigrated into a Noble's beaten son

Chapter 99

After a while, the sport "track and field" was called to begin. It was also the sole event Naell would participate in.

It was not necessarily his willing choice, but upon reading all his options, it was the only one that was still normal for his bland taste.

And the fact that he was voted into participating there by their section, made it so that he had no choice.

"Thank you for agreeing to participate Naell, sorry for the trouble!"

He could still recall how their class president, the well-mannered and sociable man named Januar, told him apologetically that day.

"It's no problem President."

Hence he was quite annoyed when Owly stopped him from going back to the library; afterall, it would be his only time of rest before what was about to come.

"Runners get ready."

'You'll definitely pay for this you—'

"On my mark, get set-"

"Achoo, HOOT."

Then the bang of the festive fire magic rang for everyone within the vicinity.

"Go!"

• Owly, you okay? •

• M'fine Casper, just a slight cold, HOOT! •

Hurriedly, all participants ran in sync. Martial artists began coating their bodies with aura, while Mages floated in the air.

Naell was of course one of them, who immediately positioned himself while levitating towards the finish line.

'Who was the other one again...' Thought Naell as he quickly remembered, track and field required two representatives from every class, yet upon filling it, anyone was allowed to participate voluntarily.

It seemed he was still deep in thought with random things. Unlike him though, the fierce rivalry of students began with mages pulling off some magic to halt their competition.

Wind magic slowed others' movements with small tornado-like magic swirling among the paths. Fog magic blocked their sights, hampering and preventing runners from seeing with ease.

Water made the land slippier affecting all the arts users in the process. Earth magic and timed traps hid from beneath ready to unload a vast array of tricks that were quite annoying.

Of course, most of that magic was aimed at the arts users. It was quite petty but the rivalry between artists and mages did stem from way back in history.

Expecting their taunts, some Martial artists with their better aura and body raced for a head start, leaving the slow mages behind in dust from the very beginning.

While most were sulking from being a victim of such rivalry, Naell and a couple of weirdos were pleased to be left alone.

'Now I can enjoy some peace and quie—'

"Uh... greetings." Said one of the students upon approaching Naell.

His brown hair was fashionably parted to the side. On his face was a scar that stretched from one cheek to the other, and he sported a bandana that covered his forehead.

Behind him were a few other students that had been chosen like Naell to represent their classes, all of whom seemed to be the same age as him.

They were all in a daze upon watching the young master's slow pacing. It made several of them more nervous as they glanced around suspiciously.

• What's up with them, HOOT? •

Naell thought he heard Owly. It was quite odd yet he knew perfectly well that the young owl would have asked if he flew by him.