Uriel was a peculiar man. The man was in his mid-forties and was relatively tall, but had a thin build. His hair was already turning gray, and he had a clean-shaven face. His skin was pale, an unnatural white, and his eyes were a grayish green.

Uriel was in the midst of a transaction with another mortal. The mortal stretched out his hand to Uriel.

Uriel gripped his hand, and his symbol activated. He thought about the number of credits he wanted to give to the other mortal. It was two hundred and twelve credits.

As the man withdrew his hand, he looked at Uriel. The symbol was briefly illuminated before fading away.

"Is that all?" Uriel asked impatiently.

The man silently took out a small stone from his pocket and pressed it onto his symbol. It brightened up again, and the man closed his eyes.

"Yes. You can go now."

Uriel nodded and left the house. He stepped out onto the dirty path of the camp. He despised this path and the smell that hung over it.

He stood there for a while, his eyes burdened with heavy dark circles, watching the hundreds of mortals diligently carrying out their slave work.

Uriel despised them, and they despised him. It was because he thought differently from her.

They believed that magicians were beings sent by gods to rule over them, but Uriel knew better. Magicians were nothing more than arrogant assholes who had been a bit luckier than him and others.

There was nothing special about them. They were just as mortal as any other human. However, Uriel had learned the hard way that he couldn't say such things in public. The last time he did, he ended up in the dungeon for more than five years and had to give up all his credits. He spat at the thought.

-How can one be so naive? -

He asked himself contemptuously. He had come to this camp as a foolish mortal who thought it was his salvation, but he quickly realized that it was all a facade.

The magicians exploited the foolishness and hope of the mortals to extract as much work from them as possible. Uriel was not the only person who shared these views. There were many other mortals in this camp, and their numbers grew day by day.

Finally, Uriel started moving and headed toward the twelfth district. His house stood there.

Halfway along the way, he passed by a magician. He veered away from him, looking at him with disdain. The magician seemed to feel his gaze and turned around, confused and with a furrowed brow, but Uriel had already moved on.

The mortals also avoided him. They all knew who Uriel was, and only a few liked him. But here and there were mortals who looked at him approvingly or even nodded and greeted him with kindness.

They all shared their views. Or they were his followers. A slight smile appeared on Uriel's face.

After some time, he arrived at a small inconspicuous house. He took out his heavy key from his pocket and entered the house. Meanwhile, he activated his symbol and checked his credit balance.

It had reached seven thousand three hundred forty. He was one of the wealthier mortals, but that was because he didn't waste his credits on getting himself on the list.

He knew it was all fake, designed to drive the mortals to work even harder. The five unlucky ones who were chosen were probably killed or something.

Uriel wasn't entirely sure what happened to the chosen ones, but he knew it was nothing good. His train of thought was interrupted as he entered his house. His eyebrows lifted as he saw a dark figure standing before him. Slowly, he closed the door behind him.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"How can I help you?" he asked softly and cautiously.

The person looked at him with old eyes and said nothing. They simply handed him a small letter and quietly left the house.

Uriel watched as the figure passed through his door and disappeared into the crowd. Then he closed the door again and looked at the envelope.

He frowned as he recognized the symbol on it. He quickly opened the letter. Inside was a note with a single sentence. Uriel's eyes widened, and a malicious smile formed on his face.

"At last... It begins!"

Meanwhile, at Koal's estate...

Nero tried to focus on his task of teaching Christina math, but it wasn't easy. The pain made clear thinking almost impossible. He made small mistakes and confused the material the whole time. Christina noticed it quickly.

"Nero, is everything alright?" she asked, concerned.

Nero looked at her with his glassy eyes, and Christina could see the pain within them. She had noticed it a few days ago, but every time she brought it up, he dismissed it. And today was no different. After a brief silence, Nero simply shook his head.

"I'm fine. Focus on math and stop distracting," he said weakly. Christina rolled her eyes.

"One can almost smell the lie, it was so poorly executed," she mumbled, but she didn't press Nero further.

They continued with the lesson. The pain had gotten significantly worse over the past three days, but Nero persevered. He wouldn't give in so easily. Later that day, Gerald was supposed to come by again, and Nero needed to prepare for his visit. He couldn't rely on making quick and precise decisions anymore, so he had to plan ahead as much as possible.

After a few hours, he and Christina stopped.

Koal entered the room. "Gerald should be here any moment,"

"Christina, we need to discuss something very important today. I'll have to ask you to go to your room."

Christina looked at him disappointedly. "Why can't I be there?" she asked angrily.

"Because you're still too young, dear. Besides, Gerald wants only the two of us present."

Christina rolled her eyes. "Fine then. Goodnight, Father. Goodnight, Nero," she bid them farewell.

Koal gave her a kiss on the forehead and hugged her, but Nero remained motionless on the couch. Christina looked at him, then turned her concerned gaze to her father.

"He's not doing well, Father," she whispered softly to him.

Koal nodded. "I know. But don't worry, I'll help him. He'll be better soon. Now, you go upstairs. Gerald should be here soon."

Christina nodded, hugged her father once more, and left the room. Koal and Nero sat at the large dining table. Koal looked at Nero and asked,

"How are you doing?"

Nero let out a heavy sigh. "The pain has gotten worse. Thinking... it's becoming difficult. Concentration keeps slipping away."

Koal nodded with concern. "Don't worry. You'll get better soon."

Nero wasn't sure where Koal got this optimism from. Nero couldn't be so optimistic. Many things could go wrong and fail.

They heard a large door being opened from outside.

"That must be him," Koal stood up and went to the living room door, greeting Gerald warmly as he entered the house. A short while later, Koal and the magician entered the living room together.

"Please have a seat, Lord Gerald," Koal said, pulling out the chair at the end of the table for him. That's actually the host's chair, but Gerald sat down without hesitation. Nero sat across from him, at the other end of the table. Only Koal remained standing.

"I'll go get us something to drink," he said cheerfully, clapping his hands.

"A wine for me," Gerald said. Koal looked at him briefly.

"But of course. I'll be right back," Koal left the room.

Gerald looked at Nero. "Hello, young man. How are you?" he asked half-heartedly.

Nero forced a smile and looked at him. "I'm doing pretty well. And you, great Lord?" he asked Gerald in return.

"I'm doing great too. But why the formality?" Gerald asked, laughing.

Nero had made the first mistake. He cursed inwardly, realizing that he had addressed Gerald as "Lord." Luckily, it was just a minor slip-up.

"You're right. Sorry, I'm a bit distracted," Nero said, scratching his nose.

Koal entered the room with a glass and a wine in his right hand. His other hand was in his coat pocket. Gerald looked at him.

"Oh, very good. Finally, something to drink."

Koal smiled his typical smile. "This is our best wine. An '83 Sylvia. It was a gift from a close friend of our family before we came here."

Gerald laughed joyfully. "What a fine vine! What's the occasion?"

Koal approached him and smiled, but Nero answered,

"I've become a magician," he said, laughing. Gerald's gaze immediately shifted in surprise to Nero.

"What? How? Is that true?" he asked, shocked, staring at Nero intently.

"No," Nero said, laughing. Gerald frowned.

"Why did you..." Suddenly, he froze. He coughed, and blood sprayed from his mouth. He tried to turn around, but Koal grabbed the knife he had thrust into Gerald's back and began twisting it.

Gerald screamed. When had Koal gotten behind him? He looked at Nero. Nero smiled at him, full of contempt and hatred. It was a trap. That was the last thing Gerald could think before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he lost consciousness.