"Sir Edward, may I?" Lucius asked, his voice measured as he stood before his superior. His sharp eyes scanned the room, mirroring Edward's own cautious nature. They were seated in a quiet corner of a modest dining hall, one frequented by knights and adventurers alike. The air carried the scent of roasting meats and spiced ale, but the atmosphere between the two men was heavy, laced with an unspoken urgency.
Edward's gaze flicked across the room once more, his presence subtly radiating authority, ensuring that no unwanted ears lingered nearby. A small hand gesture was all it took for Lucius to understand—they were alone.
"Lucy, you can relax a bit, my friend. Since you're five minutes late, I've already placed our usual order."
Lucius offered an apologetic smile but said nothing further. Before he could form a proper response, their food arrived. A simple meal: red chicken and white rice with a side of fresh greens for Lucius, while Edward had his usual—eight potato buns and ten boiled eggs. A towering glass of buttermilk stood by Lucius' plate.
Edward gestured for him to speak. "Begin."
Lucius took a measured breath before speaking. "I did it," he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight beyond his years. "I killed them all. All 200 of them, give or take. Our fallen comrades have been avenged, my lord." He slid a storage ring across the table. "Their cores and body parts—everything is inside."
Edward picked up the ring, examining it briefly before making it vanish with a flick of his fingers. A flicker of satisfaction passed through his expression.
"Good work, Lucius. I knew your success was guaranteed—especially after discovering your master's real identity."
Lucius barely had time to process the words before the slightest shift in the air caught Edward's attention. A man, seated just a few tables away, had frozen mid-motion. His fingers, which had been stirring a cup of tea moments ago, trembled ever so slightly.
Edward's movements were seamless, almost unnoticeable.
Then—ZUP!
The spy bolted, leaving behind an untouched drink and an unfinished plate of food.
Lucius did not move, but his eyes tracked every step, his senses stretching out to chase the fleeing figure through the Market Road.
"I don't like those who waste food," Edward muttered before taking a slow sip. His gaze never left Lucius. "Go and kill that son of a bitch."
Lucius vanished.
Lucius' heart raced in sync with his core, mana coursing through his veins like liquid fire. His focus narrowed as he pursued his prey through the crowded streets of Varis. The spy was fast, exceptionally fast, but Lucius wasn't just chasing him. He was hunting, again.
The man took a sharp left, weaving through side alleys and ducking beneath merchant stalls. Every turn, every shift in the wind, every sound of his hurried breath was being tracked. The spy was heading for the dense outskirts—the perfect place to vanish if one knew how to disappear.
Lucius allowed himself to be "shaken off," cutting his mana circulation entirely. His presence vanished from the world, his signature blending seamlessly into the background noise of Varis.
The spy, unaware, slowed down. His shoulders relaxed slightly. A mistake.
Lucius waited. He let him feel safe.
Then—
BOOM!
A concentrated mana arc shot forward, splitting the air with a deafening explosion. The spy barely dodged, the shockwave sending him tumbling. He hit the ground hard, rolling against the roots of a thick, gnarled tree at the forest's edge.
Lucius arrived a heartbeat later, stepping lightly over scattered debris. With one smooth motion, he planted his foot on the man's chest, pinning him down.
"Name," Lucius demanded.
The spy gasped, his breath ragged. When he did not immediately respond, Lucius applied pressure. The sound of ribs straining filled the air.
"Speak."
The man bared his teeth, ready to spit out an insult. Before the words could leave his lips—
CRACK!
Lucius snapped his left leg at the thigh.
The scream that followed was raw, primal. It echoed through the empty night, but no one would come. They were too far from the city now.
"Your. Name."
"A-Adith!" the man gasped, his body convulsing in pain. "Please, have mercy, my lord!"
Lucius did not acknowledge the plea. "Purpose?"
"T-to spy on you!" Adith coughed, his voice trembling. "To extract information!"
"Elaborate." Lucius' tone was ice.
Adith hesitated. Lucius responded by increasing the pressure on his chest, making breathing a struggle.
"F-fuck! Fine! I was ordered to track your movements, learn who you associate with, your habits, your friends—everything!"
"And?"
"And…" Adith swallowed hard. "Your combat style. Your abilities. Your artifacts."
Lucius narrowed his eyes. "How long?"
"Around f-five days. A week, maybe?"
SNAP!
Adith howled in agony as both of his arms twisted at unnatural angles. His body writhed against the forest floor.
"Liar," Lucius said, his voice devoid of sympathy. "You've been tailing me for over two weeks."
Blood dripped from Adith's mouth as he panted heavily. His mana reserves were depleted, which meant he was finished.
Lucius waited.
Seconds stretched.
Then, finally—
"Beckman…" Adith croaked. "My master… calls himself Beckman. I don't know if that's his real name."
Lucius committed the name to memory. It meant little to him now, but knowledge was power.
"Thank you," Lucius said. "I appreciate your honesty."
Adith let out a weak, bitter chuckle. "You're going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"
Lucius tilted his head slightly. "Yes."
Adith exhaled, closing his eyes. "Then… at least make it quick."
Lucius reached into his coat, retrieving a single steel dagger. He turned it over in his fingers, admiring its simplicity even during moments like these.
"Close your eyes."
Adith obeyed.
A heartbeat later, the dagger slid cleanly across his throat, severing his life with practiced efficiency.
Lucius watched as the body stilled, his eyes unreadable. Then, he bent down, wiping the blood from his blade before standing. He glanced at the lifeless form one last time before retrieving Adith's core.
"Mercy granted."
With that, he disappeared into the night.
***
"Next time you cross this limit, my blade will pierce your core as well, my lord."
Edward, reclining comfortably in his seat and enjoying his fifth cup of tea, barely reacted to the sharp warning from behind him. Instead, he simply smirked, taking another slow sip.
"Good one, Lucius," he murmured, the amusement in his voice apparent. He didn't even bother to turn around.
Lucius exhaled, his irritation subdued but not entirely gone. He retook his seat, his dinner now cold. He didn't care. Right now, food was irrelevant. What he wanted—no, needed—was answers.
"Why?" His voice was quiet but firm. "Why force me to end his life?"
Edward didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stared at the untouched remains of Lucius' meal. The silence stretched, an intentional test of patience. Lucius—naturally impatient, especially after a kill—felt his irritation spike. With a reluctant sigh, he started eating. He understood the message: Finish what's in front of you before demanding more.
Only when Lucius was a few bites in did Edward speak.
"That man's life was worthless," he stated, voice steady. "A Level 3 criminal with five assault charges. A repeat offender. Trash."
Lucius paused, momentarily taken aback. That scrawny-looking spy had been a menace? He hadn't expected that.
"Still regret killing that son of a bitch?"
Lucius hesitated. His fork hovered over the plate, his thoughts conflicted.
"Umm..."
No words came to mind, so he remained silent. He hadn't regretted it—not truly. He just hated the why of it. The feeling of being forced into a kill outside of his own choices.
Edward took another sip of tea before continuing. "That man followed you for a month, right?"
Lucius frowned. "Three weeks," he corrected.
Edward shook his head, unconvinced. "No. A month."
Lucius felt his jaw tighten. If Edward was saying it with that level of certainty, it meant he had information Lucius didn't.
"Your abilities are one of a kind, Lucius. And unfortunately, people have started to notice."
Lucius kept chewing, his mind racing, 'How does he know about my abilities? Even Sia is unaware!'
"For five years now," Edward continued, "you've managed to keep your talent relatively unnoticed. You hunted solo, avoided politics, kept your head low, and refused to let your name be used as a pawn. And yet, despite all that caution, your achievements have started to slip through the cracks. These so-called high lords, noblemen, and big-time adventurers—" Edward smirked, swirling his tea. "—they might be arrogant, but they're not dumb. They see patterns. They recognize outliers."
Lucius exhaled through his nose. He knew this moment was inevitable, but he had hoped to delay it longer, at least until the day he turns 18.
"Any guesses who this Beckman might be?" Lucius asked.
Edward shook his head. "Beckman's a made-up name. You and I both know that. The problem isn't who he is. The problem is why someone of his level is watching a seventeen-year-old adventurer."
Lucius leaned back, arms crossed. Hiring a spy mage was no small matter. That kind of resource wasn't something a minor figure could afford—it required serious money and connections. One couldn't simply walk into a guild or the black markets to buy these services.
This wasn't an accident.
This wasn't a random mission.
Someone with power had taken an interest in him.
Edward sighed, placing his empty teacup down with finality.
"I cannot stop you, Lucius. But I also cannot stop these figures for long." His voice was serious now. "You've killed a B ranked mage. Within two to four days, they'll figure out, perhaps everything."
Lucius tightened his grip around his fork. "Then I have two to four days to prepare."
"No, you don't. Now shut up and listen."
Edward's voice was calm, but firm — the kind that came from years of giving orders on and off the battlefield. Lucius raised an eyebrow at the blunt interruption but nodded. If nothing else, he respected Edward's experience — both as a knight and a man deeply entrenched in the political undercurrents of Varis. This was someone who had seen the chessboard from a higher vantage point.
Edward leaned back, exhaling, his gaze drifting toward the tavern's lantern-lit walls as if trying to piece together his thoughts in the right order.
"How long until your eighteenth birthday?"
Lucius didn't hesitate. "Six months."
Edward blinked. "Six? Are you sure?"
Lucius tilted his head slightly, smiling in that knowing way he often did when a plan had worked just as he intended.
"I mean, Lavya told me it was at least eight or nine months away," Edward continued, visibly thrown off.
"It's what they think," Lucius said quietly, sipping his drink. "Only Sia knows my real birthdate. The official one, I mean. Everyone else—Lavya, Sara, even the guild—they're just guessing based on the date I nudged into their heads through random, casual conversations."
Edward paused, a moment of genuine admiration flickering across his face. "Damn. You've been manipulating your birthdate… just in case it came in handy later?"
Lucius gave a slight shrug. "Didn't seem like a bad idea."
Edward let out a low whistle. "Smart. Devious, but smart. That kind of foresight… you're a dangerous one, you know that?"
Lucius didn't respond. He already knew.
Edward leaned in slightly, voice lowering. "Well then, this makes things easier. You're grounded."
Lucius blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me," Edward said, more serious now. "You're grounded. For six months. Until your official eighteenth birthday."
Lucius's head jerked slightly, but he stayed quiet. He didn't agree, not yet—but he was willing to listen.
"I know it sounds harsh, maybe even insulting. But hear me out."
Edward gestured lazily for the waitress, ordering the bill and a small bowl of lukewarm water — one of those odd Varisian customs for cleansing fingers after a meal. Lucius watched with faint judgment as the knight dipped his entire hand in like it was a soup bowl. He didn't bother hiding the look.
"I'm serious," Edward continued. "Lucius, you've gone out of your way to keep a low profile. Hiding your strength, your mana capabilities, your kills. You avoid attention like it's the plague. But it's not working anymore."
Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly.
"People are starting to notice. Not just your squad—other adventurers, nobles, guild officials. Hell, even some of the city's political scum are whispering your name. Lavya and Sara would never betray you, and Sia? She'd rather die. But that doesn't matter. You've become visible despite all your precautions."
He leaned in.
"And attention, the kind you're attracting? It's dangerous. Jhansi was a prodigy too, a fallen noble, and even she didn't draw eyes from the shadows like you're doing now."
Lucius stayed silent, his mind already racing ahead. He hated where this was going.
"So," Edward continued, "you need to disappear from the field for a while. Let the spotlight move elsewhere, maybe on someone else."
Lucius finally spoke. "And how exactly do I explain that to the guild? To Sia? To Lavya and Sara? I can't just vanish. That would look even more suspicious."
Edward grinned like he'd been waiting for that.
"You're going to get injured."
Lucius raised an eyebrow.
"Before returning home from your next mission, you're going to cut open your right arm. Make it look serious."
Lucius blinked again. "You're kidding."
"I'm not," Edward replied. "You're a Left Dominator. You won't lose much in training. Then report the injury to the guild. Mention my name — say we were together when it happened. That sends two messages. One: you're wounded and out of commission. And two: you were with me when that spy, Adith, was taken care of."
Lucius frowned, already shaking his head. "No. I'm not dragging you into this."
Edward leaned back, his tone sharp now. "Lucius. You're already in it. The moment you chased that spy through public streets, you became a liability. Witnesses saw you. People are going to talk."
"I don't care if they talk about me," Lucius said, tone hardening. "But you? You've got a name people respect. You're a noble knight. A symbol of integrity for the commoners, for all of them. I won't let that be tarnished for my sake."
Edward's eyes flicked up, unreadable.
"You remember the day you entered Varis for the first time?"
Lucius's brows furrowed. "Yeah… vaguely."
"Do you remember anything after that? Besides your meeting with Guildmaster Dargan and Jhansi?"
Lucius went quiet. He tried to recall… but nothing stood out.
"Exactly," Edward said. "That's because five high-ranking officials took personal responsibility for you. That was the only reason you weren't questioned, detained, or watched more closely. Two of those officials are my closest friends — Dargan and Mercy."
He paused.
"If someone manages to frame you for something—and trust me, they're trying—it won't just be you on trial. They'll drag my friends down with you. People who vouched for you. People who stuck their necks out so you could breathe freely here."
Lucius's expression darkened.
"As for Adith," Edward continued, "he was a criminal. I can prove his involvement in espionage. That part's not the issue. The issue is you. And them. And keeping all of you safe."
Lucius looked away, hands clenched beneath the table. He hated it. Hated hiding. Hated pretending. But he couldn't deny the logic.
Edward softened his tone. "This isn't about you being weak, Lucius. It's about timing. Right now, the game is being played above your level. But in six months… that's when you officially become free. That's when you'll step onto the board with your own pieces."
He leaned forward, his voice low and final. "But if you don't make it to that day, none of it will matter."
Lucius exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he said, reluctantly. "Yes... I mean, I'll think about it."
Edward smirked and lifted the bowl of water. "Good. Just don't stab too deep. You'll need that arm eventually."
"..."
"So do exactly what I told you," Edward said, voice low but firm. "Stay hidden. Walk like a weakling. Keep your head down, and act like you're just some seventeen-year-old kid traumatized after watching me kill a man."
There was no sarcasm, no jest—just steel wrapped in silk. His tone grew more serious, more commanding, like a storm brewing behind calm skies.
Lucius gave a faint nod, his expression unreadable. No protest. No questions. Just a silent agreement.
That was enough for Edward.
Without another word, the knight rose, walked to the counter, and settled the bill. Lucius remained seated, hands folded, thoughts circling. He watched Edward's back as he left, disappearing into the cold night, leaving behind only lingering questions.
Beckman.
The name echoed in his mind like a riddle with no answer.
Lucius had theories, fragments of speculation stitched together by paranoia and instinct—but nothing concrete. No faces. No facts. Just shadows... Except one guy, probably.
With a sigh, he shelved the thought for the night. Chasing ghosts wouldn't help—not right now.
He thanked the server politely, then stepped out as the last patron before the tavern closed its doors.
The streets outside were bathed in quiet silver.
The moon hung high, a silent guardian in a sky freckled with stars.
A soft wind threaded through the alleys, brushing past Lucius's hair like a whispered lullaby.
Nights like these calmed him. Cold. Empty. Still.
Whenever his mind was tangled—whenever doubt wrapped its fingers around his throat—Lucius walked. It was a habit born in childhood, a ritual that grounded him. Tonight, he let his feet guide him away from the city, away from the safety of home where Sia was likely waiting. He missed her, wanted to see her, but the weight in his chest begged for silence first—for solitude.
So he turned toward the mountains.
The Black Mountain Range stood tall against the night, their jagged peaks silhouetted like sentinels of old. To most, they were just treacherous terrain. But to Lucius… they were sanctuary.
They had watched him grow—from a lost boy into a weapon forged by secrecy and survival. Here, he had run, bled, trained. Here, he had discovered truths about himself that no one else knew. And here, his most dangerous secret had been born.
A secret shared only with the mountains…
…and the one man he trusted more than himself,
As he climbed higher into the familiar ridges, Lucius cut off his mana rotation. Instantly, his signature vanished, disappearing into the wind. He became invisible to those who could sense mana, a shadow among shadows.
And yet… his perception remained sharp.
He felt the dense weight of earth mana beneath his feet. The playful teasing of wind brushing his hair. Even the flickering remnants of fire mana—faint, but present.
Unlike other mages, Lucius's abilities were not confined to the flow of his mana core. Yes, his core was strong—exceptionally so—but his connection to mana transcended it. Even with his circulation completely halted, he could still feel everything.
Every flicker. Every tremor. Every shift.
A gift... or perhaps a curse. But definitely one-of-a-kind.
"My senses aren't bound by flow—they're tied to something deeper. My soul. That's why I can still feel mana, even when I'm as empty as a dried flask."
He stepped forward and placed a hand on the old tree he always trained beneath. Its bark was rough and cold against his fingers—a grounding touch. He had punched this tree more times than he could count. Bled in front of it. Fallen asleep under its shade. This was his spot.
Here, he wasn't an anomaly.
Here, he wasn't a threat.
Here, he was just Lucius.
He sat down slowly, resting his back against the trunk. The wind howled through the peaks, but he didn't flinch. His eyes remained fixed on the moon, his mind caught between plans and promises.
"The future is uncertain. But in six months, I'll be free. Truly free. No more guild oversight. No more false names or borrowed protection."
Until then?
He would train harder than ever before.
He would protect those he loved—Sia, Lavya, Sara.
And he would uncover the truth about Beckman, and the men hiding in the shadows.
The humans, foolish enough to hunt him.
Lucius's gaze hardened.
"Six months. That's all I need. Then… gods help them all."