Life did not pause simply because the grief lingered.
That was the first lesson Baston forced himself to accept as the academy's distant towers came into view. The world did not bend for the guilt one and it did not halt for the remorse one.
The carriages still rolled along the stone roads, the merchants still argued over the prices, and the students still hurried through the gates with half-memorized spells that were clinging to their lips.
Life continued and so, he would continue as well. The distance from the town helped more than he expected. Once the walls and smoke disappeared behind the hills and trees, the images grew faint.
He could no longer see the grieving faces that gathered beneath the gray skies. He could no longer hear the raw cries that clawed at the air during the funerals. And he could no longer blame himself against every household that lost someone through wailing as if the sky itself had cracked open.
They clung to each other with the desperation of people who had once believed that the time was negotiable. It was as if tomorrow was guaranteed and as if the strange miracle they drank would stretch their days endlessly. Unfortunately, it had never been so.
If the kingdom learned the truth behind that town and if the officials uncovered about dark potions that siphoned vitality through forbidden rituals, the punishment would not be measured.
It would be eradication, purge, and cleansing fire that were disguised as the justice. Compared to that fate, what had happened might even be considered mercy.
However, that thought did not comfort him.
Before leaving, Baston had one last thread to sever which was the man in the underground cell. He had not forgotten him at all.
Through his puppet, he unlocked the hidden door beneath the mayor's estate and guided the prisoner into the night. The man's hands trembled, not from the chains but from the disbelief.
Baston did not reveal himself. Instead, the puppet handed the man a pouch with coins inside.
"Do not return to your wrongdoings forever…" the puppet instructed calmly.
A second chance was a rare commodity and he would not waste one without reason.
He followed the man from afar for few hours, stretching the invisible connection between himself and the puppet until it thinned like a fragile silk.
The former prisoner did not seek his revenge. He did not return to his old crime and he boarded a supply wagon that was heading toward a distant province. In the end, he never looked back.
When the thread between the puppet and the master strained painfully, Baston withdrew it. Eventually, he let the man live.
If there had been a single sign of cruelty, greed, or intent to resume the old habits, he would have ended the man without hesitation. He understood why it was so easy to kill someone now.
The first death had carved hesitation into his chest. The second had hollowed him. By the fifth, something inside him had grown silent. It was not cruel and not sadistic but it was just simply still.
His heart was cold, yet he did not drown in guilt over those he had already killed. That disturbed him more than sorrow would have.
When he returned to the academy, he did not linger in the corridors or answer few curious glances. He walked straight to his room. Even the old book that was still holding his reward did not tempt him.
He ignored it and that alone felt unnatural.
*****
While Baston isolated himself, the assumptions bloomed elsewhere.
Panto interpreted his silence as the strategy. To him, Baston must be planning something vast and calculated. The cult's shadow was spreading and the tragedy in the town was the proof.
Surely, the fat boy was weaving a net that was too subtle for the others to see.
Convinced of this, Panto did what he thought necessary. He sent a discreet message to Alicia. He could not simply stroll into the noble district as before. Despite his wealth, there were the boundaries that one could not purchase outright.
Fortunately, Alicia responded swiftly.
Her guards escorted him with practiced precision, shielding his identity from several wandering eyes. Through the corridors that were lined with polished marble and silent portraits, he was brought into her personal chamber.
The luxury greeted him in layers with velvet drapes, carved furniture, and silver-inlaid mirrors. The scent of the room carried the refinement but there was no time to admire.
Alicia dismissed her guards to the outer perimeter and faced him directly.
"Is what you wrote true?" she asked.
Panto swallowed, "Yes… Baston told me about the town. After he resolved the issue, many people died the next morning. The official cause makes no sense and it feels fabricated."
Alicia's brows lowered slightly. She had already heard the rumors from the auction incident.
A nobleman was dead under the golden chandeliers, a curse that neither Claire nor Teres could neutralize, and a clown who vanished without trace.
Surely, it was Joker. Even thinking of the name carried the weight inside her heart. However, she never thought another incident occurred after that in another town. The blasphemy silently claimed several lives.
"And Baston did not report this?" she asked.
"No, I believe he chose not to…"
"Why?"
"Because the people there were just the victims in the end," Panto replied firmly, "They weren't chasing the power. They wanted more time with their loved ones but someone exploited that."
Alicia considered this carefully.
If the dark wizards were bold enough to infiltrate a town and harvest many lives under a benevolent façade, then this was no isolated incident.
However, Baston had allowed the town to remain which meant one of two things. Either he lacked the proof or he wanted the bigger predator to surface.
She exhaled slowly, "He is reckless…"
Panto shook his head, "He calculates everything even when he seems impulsive. I believe he still keeps several plans secretly."
That confidence did not ease Alicia's mind. Instead, it sharpened her suspicion.
"If everything in that town traces back to the dark wizards," she said slowly, "Then such crime is no longer operating in fragments. They are organized and they already begin targeting the commoners."
Panto nodded without hesitation. "They must have a backing. After all, such experiment has already stayed long enough without any intervention."
"Dark wizards… They are truly despicable…" Alicia concluded softly.
The words lingered between them. The kingdom had always treated them as scattered remnants of the isolated practitioners that were hiding in the forests or ruins. They were dangerous but they were fractured.
What happened in the town suggested something different. It was a network, a supply chain of forbidden potions, and an anchor that was carved with deliberate precision.
"Do you think Joker is connected to them?" Alicia asked.
Panto paused, "In the auction hall, he used something neither Miss Claire nor Lord Teres could counter. If he isn't part of the dark wizards, then he's at least walking along the same road."
Alicia's gaze drifted toward the window.
If Joker and the dark wizards were aligned, then Baston's actions were even more reckless than she first believed. He had drawn so much attention during the auction and he had dismantled a ritual in the town.
If the dark wizards were truly organized, they would not ignore someone who disrupted two of their moves in succession.
"He must know," Alicia murmured, "He must be aware that he is provoking them."
"That's why he keeps silent," Panto replied firmly, "He's formulating the next move. Maybe, he already got more clues about the cult and the dark wizards."
Neither of them considered the possibility that Baston had not yet reached that conclusion. To them, every piece aligned neatly.
The strange vitality potion, the statue anchor, Joker's impossible curse, and the increasing boldness of forbidden magic. It formed a single enemy in their minds.
A cult that was guided by dark wizards and Joker as their executioner. And Baston who was standing quietly in the middle, pretending to be idle while preparing his counterstrike.
Alicia folded her hands, "If that is true, then this is no longer a small matter. The dark wizards do not move without purpose. If they are gathering the vitality of people, they are building toward something."
"A bigger ritual?" Panto guessed, "Or something worse…"
The silence settled between them. In that moment, both of them unknowingly elevated Baston into a strategist that was already several steps ahead of everyone else.
"He didn't report the town anyway," Alicia added, "Perhaps, because exposing it too early would alert the dark wizards."
"Yes…" Panto agreed instantly, "He must want them to feel secure."
The word secure as if Baston were deliberately allowing his enemies to roam free.
The misunderstanding quickly solidified. To them, his absence from class, his silence, and his withdrawal were none of the grief. It was a preparation and because they believed that, neither of them intended to interfere.
From the auction to the ice bead before using himself as a bait to draw Joker's attention. It was daring to the point of madness. And yet, it was very effective. Two great wizards even had been unable to stop the clown while Baston had survived the proximity.
Alicia did not mistake his survival for luck.
If Joker was truly involved in the town's tragedy, provoking him prematurely would be foolish. The investigation must precede the confrontation.
"I will dispatch people to gather the evidence quietly," she said at last, "If the dark wizard's involvement is confirmed, the kingdom must know. Still, we cannot act blindly."
Panto nodded and before he left, Alicia added almost casually, "One month from now, I will return to my family estate for vacation. If Baston wishes, he may accompany me."
The invitation hung in the air, making the boy blinked.
He nearly misinterpreted it but considering this was from Alicia, she must be calculating toward someone's action.
If Baston traveled under the noble protection, perhaps it was related to a strategy or perhaps she wanted him within the reach.
Either way, he accepted the message and departed. Neither of them realized how misplaced their assumptions were.
*****
Meanwhile, Baston was not planning anything since he was unraveling. His room had expanded after his recognition as an ice wizard, yet it felt suffocating.
The curtains remained drawn, several days blurred together, and he neither attended the classes nor opened the old book.
At night, the sleep evaded him. It was not because of the screams but because of the silence. The town's quiet aftermath haunted him more than the funerals. A place that was once warm reduced to the hushed survival.
He wondered how many other towns bore similar secrets. He had killed people to stop a cycle yet the cycles often had the roots.
Several days passed and no one disturbed him. Panto and Alicia who were believing that he wrestled with grand schemes only respected his solitude.
They did, however, still compete over the meals. After all, it became an unspoken arrangement.
One day, Panto delivered the food. The next day, Alicia's attendants handled the meal. Neither of them mentioned it to Baston. He noticed it but he said nothing.
The academy continued moving forward and soon, the exams arrived. Miss Pashan conducted them with her usual stern discipline. The names were called and the scores were recorded.
Until this day, Baston's seat remained empty. By the third absence, her irritation hardened into action and she marked him with zeros.
When the results were posted, Baston's name stood starkly among the failures, making the whispers followed. Some said that he had risen too quickly and some said that his talent had spoiled him.
Panto clenched his fists at the sight but he could offer no explanation. After all, the said person had another important plan.
After the class, he rushed to Baston's dormitory and knocked carefully. There was a pause before a soft response allowed the entry. Baston sat by the window with thinner shadows beneath his eyes.
"Why haven't you attended the class?" Panto demanded quietly, "There was an exam and since you were not there, Miss Pashan failed you."
"An exam?" Baston blinked.
The shock was genuine. For a moment, something like the clarity returned to his gaze.
"Is there a punishment?"
"I'm not sure but I can inquire..." Panto lowered his voice, "Also, what about the cult?"
Baston frowned slightly, "The cult?"
"You've been investigating them, right? I'm pretty sure you are thinking about the next plan…"
The understanding soon dawned before he realized was what Panto believed. Everything was because of this newly cult who dared to trample people's life. However, he could not explain much about the matter.
"Do not worry about it," he said evenly, "Just focus on your lessons."
Panto's shoulders relaxed immediately since he interpreted the composure as the confidence.
"I owe you…" he said earnestly, "If you need funds, resources, or anything, just talk to me and I'll help."
After he left, Baston stared at the closed door. He wondered how he allowed himself to drift so far from the surrounding awareness.
An exam had been missed entirely. His grief had not paralyzed him. It had distracted him and that was more dangerous.
He rose slowly and he understood that his life must continue.
If he wished to survive long enough to uncover the deeper mysteries about the dark potion, he could not afford the stagnation. He had his responsibilities here.
The old book rewarded his performance and not his self-pity. At that thought, he finally turned toward the desk where the old book rested.
For a full week, he had ignored it. Now, he reached out and opened it. The pages did not glow immediately. Normally, the old book reacted the moment he touched it since there was still a reward.
This time, the ink appeared faint. He flipped to the previous quest about setting the people free. His eyes soon narrowed since he had delayed his acceptance too long.
"Damn it…"