Evander sat on a wooden box. Near him, the unconscious bodies of the five men laid on the ground. It was dark, but his eyes had already adjusted to it. He summoned a pebble-sized orb of light on his palm.
“Just as I thought,” sighed Evander. The magic capacity of his current body was small, almost nonexistent, definitely the same as that of common person. The series of simple magic he had cast before almost consumed his entire mana pool.
If he were to explore the secrets of this world, he would need a stronger vessel. He decided that he would first train this body in order to achieve his goal.
The sound of numerous footsteps was heard outside. Evander estimated that there were more than two dozen of them. Immediately, he dispersed the pebble-sized orb of light on his palm and darkness once again filled the chamber. Using what remained of his magic, he amplified his senses. He soon heard the hushed voices outside.
“He’s still alive, right?”
“Of course! He should be! Lord Drakus will kill us if he finds out that his son died!”
“Be ready to charge on my signal.”
Evander realized that these men must be the ‘magicians’ mentioned by his assailants. They must be here to rescue him.
“This is really amusing,” said Evander. He couldn’t help but chuckle.
He stood up from his seat then laid on the ground, pretending to be unconscious. He did not know why he was suddenly given a second chance in life, but he might as well enjoy it. For now, he decided to see where things would flow.
BAM!
The sound of the door breaking into smithereens reverberated. Splinters of wood flew in all directions as the metallic lock clanked.
Although his eyes were closed, Evander could feel numerous presences enter the chamber. And they all halted at once.
“What the hell…”
“Who did this?”
There was momentary silence. They were probably surprised to see the enemies that they were supposed to fight unconscious.
“The Young Master’s here! Over here!”
Evander felt two large hands lifting him up. His eyes remained closed as he waited for things to unfold. In his heart, he could not help but grin in anticipation. He got to admit, this was exciting.
“How’s the Young Master?” “He seems fine. No injuries too!” Ah! Damn it.
Evander almost bit his lips. He forgot that he healed his entire body. It would definitely be suspicious that there was not even a single scratch on him. He inwardly reprimanded himself for being unable to think of such an obvious thing.
“Thank God. Lord Drakus would kill us if something happened to his son!”
Evander could feel the heartfelt relief from the owner of the voice. He felt someone gently slapping him.
This is it. I can finally play that role.
Slowly, Evander opened his eyes. He blinked thrice then looked around him.
“Young Master!”
Surrounding him were relieved faces of men and women. Unlike the guys from before, these group were wearing cerulean cloaks. On their chest was the emblem of a rose and a shield.
Evander pretended to be dizzy as he slowly sat up.
“What happened?” said Evander.
“Young Master, I’m really glad you’re safe!” said an old man with monocles. He was wearing a brown chaleco and a matching bowtie. His ashen hair was neatly combed to the back. “We’ve been searching for you for days!”
He pretended to be familiar with the old man. “You finally came. I’ve been here for so long…” He looked at the unconscious men on the floor. He widened his eyes in an attempt to look surprised.
“They’re unconscious,” said the old man, his brows creased, eyes grim. “Young master, what happened here?” Silence befell them. Evander shook his head. “I don’t know.” The cloaked figures looked at each other.
The old man with monocles was frowning. “But young Master—”
“—Stop.” Evander placed a hand on his forehead. “I’m feeling dizzy. Take me back home.”
The old man closed his eyes and eventually bowed his head. “Of course. You must be tired. As you wish.” He turned to the cloaked figures. “Escort the Young Master to the carriage. Ask the Healer to examine his body.” Five cloaked figures assisted Evander in getting up.
After Evander left the chamber, he amplified his senses. He heard the words uttered inside the room.
“Sir Gaston, what should we do with these men?”
“I’ve spoken with Silver Hand. They’re unaffiliated small fries,” said the old man. There was not an ounce of empathy within his voice.
“Make them spill it out. All of it. The method doesn’t matter. Make them talk. You can kill them afterward.” “Understood.”
Comments (33)
See all