After chatting with James for a while, Oliver finished his meal and prepared to leave.

However, he suddenly overheard a conversation at the next table about the rogue, Grik.

They mentioned seeing Grik in town that morning, brawling with someone and getting thoroughly beaten. He had ended up with a bruised face and was chased off by a gang of thugs.

Grik was forced to hide at the edge of the forest.

“Hiding at the forest's edge?” Oliver scoffed.

It seemed Grik was truly at his wits' end.

This scoundrel spent his days drinking and causing trouble, and now he had provoked the wrong people.

“Just the chance I need to get my revenge and reclaim my land deed…”

With his thoughts racing, Oliver left the small tavern and made his way to the forest’s edge.

----------------------------------------

At the forest’s edge, in an abandoned hunter’s shack, Grik lay on a rickety cot, groaning in pain.

He was battered and bruised, with wounds all over his face and body.

“Damn you, Eirik! One day, I’ll break your legs and take your wife,The little bitch is really something, with a figure like that…” Grik cursed, fuming.

Suddenly, he tensed, propping himself up and calling out nervously,

“Who’s there?! Show yourself!”

“Whoever you are, get out here!”

It had to be said, Grik’s training under an old knight had sharpened his instincts. Realizing he had been discovered, Oliver stepped out of the shadows.

“It’s you?”

Grik exclaimed as he recognized Oliver, the farmer's son. He sighed with relief but still spat,

“Damn you, little brat! What are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”

He had expected Eirik's men, not this young boy.

“You're not dead yet?” Grik chuckled, dismissing Oliver entirely.

But Oliver didn’t respond with humor; he remained silent, walking closer.

As Oliver approached, Grik began to sense something was off. Wasn’t this kid starving just a few days ago?

Why did he seem so…dangerous?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Like a frightened rat, Grik jumped to his feet and glowered, “Stop right there! What do you want, brat?”

Oliver still didn’t speak. Instead, he lifted a stone and took another step closer.

“You’re asking for trouble!” Grik shouted, swinging a fist at Oliver.

Incredibly, Oliver didn’t flinch. He simply reached out and caught Grik’s fist with ease.

Panic spread across Grik’s face as he realized the boy's strength was terrifying. It felt as if his hands were clamped in a vice—he couldn’t budge even slightly!

At that moment, Oliver’s magical core had transformed it into a powerful boar form. This granted him immense strength.

Grik?

He was nothing more than a child in Oliver’s grasp. His feeble strength was laughable!

Oliver seized Grik by the throat as one would handle a duck.

Grik flailed desperately, kicking and clawing like a drowning man, but it was futile.

With a thud, Oliver hurled him out of the rickety shack and onto the grass outside.

Grik grimaced in pain, his eyes widening in terror.

“Spare me, Mighty One! I see my mistakes now…” he cried out.

Oliver remained calm, observing Grik with a pity.

It was astonishing how simple it was to deal with Grik now!

Once, this thug had loomed over him like a mountain, robbing him of his land deed and nearly starving him in the process.

But now, with his extraordinary magical power, Grik was worthless.

“Cut the nonsense. Where’s my land deed?”

“Uh…well…” Grik stammered.

Oliver kicked him in the gut, causing him to double over in agony.

“Don’t hide it!”

“I sold it! I sold it!”

Grik blurted out, desperation coloring his tone.

“Sold it?! To whom?”

“To the lords in town! I don’t know who exactly!” Grik gasped.

The realization hit Oliver like a lead weight. If the lords had his land, reclaiming it would be no easy task.

They already owned vast estates but were insatiable, always finding ways to seize more land from the farmers.

The Alstan family next door had sold their land to the local lords long ago and were now barely scraping by, their crops mostly surrendered to their overlords.

No wonder Alstan’s family was so poor!

“These lords wield significant power,” Oliver thought grimly.

“Here, take this! It’s all I have left—thirty silver coins from the sale!” Grik pleaded.

“Only thirty silver coins?”

“Fifty! I used twenty on drinks!”

What kind of drink could burn through twenty silver coins in just a few days?

Oliver seethed and delivered another swift kick, sending Grik howling into the quiet forest, his cries echoing far and wide, startling the birds from their perches.

As he snatched the pouch of coins from Grik, Oliver gazed at the pitiful wretch before him, deep in thought. What should he do with this scoundrel?

“Let me go, Mighty One! I’ll pay you back, I swear! I’ll be your loyal follower—anything you ask!” Grik sobbed, desperation coating his every word.

Spare you? When you robbed me of my land deed, did you show mercy? Grik had even conspired with Walter’s men to sell Oliver into slavery. Becoming a slave was a fate worse than death!

With those thoughts swirling, Oliver remained silent, raising the stone once more and stepping closer to Grik.

Grik’s pupils dilated in fear. He scrambled backward, hands braced against the ground, trying to escape.

“No!” he shouted, terror lacing his voice.

But what greeted him was the looming shadow of the stone.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

The forest reverberated with dull, heavy thuds as a lifeless body was discarded into the underbrush.

The acrid smell of blood quickly attracted vultures, circling ominously overhead.

Oliver wiped his hands clean and turned away, leaving the scene behind.

The first time he had taken a life, a tumult of emotions roiled within him. He sprinted toward the forest's edge, his stomach churning violently as he fought against the urge to vomit.

“Grik was no good man. If I let him live, he wouldn’t have kept his promise to serve me…”

If he let Grik go, he would certainly spill Oliver’s newfound strength to Walter and his gang. What fate awaited him then?

He had to eliminate the threat.

It was unavoidable. Such scum deserved their fate.

But killing a lowlife like Grik wasn’t the end of his troubles. Walter and his band wouldn’t let him off so easily.

He needed to grow stronger.

Only by becoming a powerful mage would he earn the respect and protection to keep those lords and petty nobles at bay!