Ostin, Son of George, Level 78 [Blue Saint], read a book in one hand with his legs crossed. Every so often, the wheels of the carriage would roll over a bump in the ground, rattling the carriage’s interior.

Ostin had graying, slicked back hair. He was handsome in a way that an old and charming university professor would be. Unfortunately, despite his advanced status that could cause jaws to drop and eyes to widen in envy, he wasn’t immune to the process of aging.

At first, it had been just a minor inconvenience..

But now, without his glasses, he was as blind as a bat.

Another rattle shook the carriage and Ostin closed the leatherback book. He lowered his head and stared at the floor, fidgeting with his feet as he thought silently.

He hadn’t seen Milo and everyone else in five years…

He had so many regrets. The Grecia Empire had taken so much from him. He didn’t feel like a person. Like he had no soul. He was just another shield to them.

Unfortunately, his younger years were catching up to him. When he was younger, he could effortlessly hold up barriers for multiple weeks in a row without any sleep. He had been able to block such high-levelled spells and channel so much mana through himself that it was now recently keeping him up late at night.

Fortunately, his dip in battle performance had not gone unnoticed. There were already talks of his retirement amongst the higher command. He would begin teaching at Golden Wing Academy soon, with his own disciples to teach, test, and…kill.

The thought of fostering a young lady or man, teaching them everything he knew and growing close to them, all to design and conduct a test that would either turn them into a monster or kill them outright.

The days he spent at Golden Wing Academy were a blur. The only thing he remembered were the gruelling tests that Master Blue Light had created for him.

He had actually visited his grave before coming here. A mausoleum had been constructed in the center of Concord to commemorate his death. It had taken him back to a time long past. In comparison, his worries were few and his life simple. Succeed or die.

Definitely overkill for a young teenager, but it was necessary.

The academy had prepared him for war.

He still remembered all those who died because he failed to uphold his [Shield].

Their faces haunted him sometimes. He never told anyone about this either. He kept it deep within himself. Not even Milo knew.

Whenever he found himself pushed against the ropes, failure seemingly imminent, he would think about how different everything would be if Milo had been the one to awaken to an elite class instead of him.

He sighed.

Ostin’s train of thought was interrupted when the carriage came to a smooth stop.

The voice of the [Coachman] came from outside.

“We’re here!”

Ostin looked to the person beside him and tapped her on the thigh.

“We’re here, sweetie.”

Jude roused from her sleep and when she saw the face of the man beside her, she smiled.

***

After a heartfelt reunion, Milo, Ostin, Jude, and Hailey, sat together and chatted away while all the kids worked on the farm outside.

They reminisced about the past, plotted the future, and talked of the present. So much had happened. Time flew by and turned into an intelligible dot in the distant sky. People changed and faces aged. Wrinkles had set in, hair graying and their bodies aching in places that they had never previously.

A high status didn’t protect anyone from the terror of old age.

Jude turned completely deaf when she was about thirty. An artillery spell right on top of her. Ostin managed to save her just in time with a well-placed shield, but the sound ruptured both of her ears beyond the point of repair. But with an enchanted sea shell and channeling her mana through it, she was able to hear just like any other normal person.

Ostin had become a war hero. Rumors of his unbreakable barriers had echoed through the decades. Statues were sculpted, tales told and songs sung. And—Milo still couldn’t believe it—Ostin had been knighted by Emperor Nimbus himself.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

As for Milo, his craft had become favored amongst the people of Greenlodge.

Every season, a [Laborer] would arrive at Kirkstead via the southern river—the river that Lisa and her husband’s family used to escape on that day. The [Laborer] would take his entire inventory and transport it back to Greenlodge to be sold within Bill’s Tailoring Emporium.

When he was younger, he would make the journey himself.

But age had gotten to him.

He was fifty-eight now. All except his fourth were fully grown up now. Joshua, his fourth, was awakened but still hadn’t even reached Level 10. And unfortunately, he had no daughters. Just all sons in this household. It made a strange scene when his wife popped out another boy the fourth time around. And for some reason, not a single one of them had taken an interest in knitting or sewing cloth. All of them shrugged off any of his attempts to want to do it and they all chose [Farmer]. If only he had had a daughter…

At least his land was sure to flourish. He had told them that the only way they could ever make a great farm was through gruelling, back-breaking work every single day. There were no shortcuts.

He had grown up on a farm for all of his childhood, so he knew plenty. Sometimes, whenever he pointed out stuff that wasn’t right, they would all simultaneously shout at him from across the field and tell him to come out from his little room, work in the hot sun for twelve hours a day, and see if he was still complaining.

He would always laugh when this happened. They were a hilarious lot.

***

Crickets chirping and stars twinkling in the sky, Ostin and Milo’s feet thudded against wood and, as they came off the front patio, flattened dew-tipped grass. It was dark out, everything haven taken a strange shade of blue and purple.

“Don’t spend the whole night down there!” Hailey scrambled out the front door and yelled out to them.

Milo turned back, his hands in the pockets of his black overcoat. Cold wind blew against his face as he turned around and replied back to his wife.

“Ok, honey!”

Normally, whenever he would leave the house, she would kiss him on the cheek. He would always freeze when she did that. His cheeks would flush red and he wouldn’t be able to speak properly for the next few moments.

Thankfully, she must have seen the pride in his eyes when he looked upon his younger brother. She didn’t want to embarrass him. For that, he was deeply grateful—

Something warm pressed against his touch and he reeled back in shock.

“Hailey!” Milo exclaimed.

Hailey giggled and ran away, the agility of her [Rambunctious Dancer] class taking her back to the patio in just a few breaths of time.

He felt the spot on his cheek with his fingers and blushed.

Ostin broke into a bout of laughter and slapped him on the back.

Milo shook his head and the pair walked into the darkness.

***

His eyes solemn and face blank, Ostin inspected the interior of the hall with a scrutinising gaze. The only thing that could be heard within the underground room was their footsteps. It echoed, and their breaths lingered in the air far too long for anyone’s comfort.

“So…that is the array?” Ostin asked, quite impressed with everything he was seeing.

Ostin had been in too many secret facilities to count, and what he was seeing here was very similar.

He adjusted his glasses.

But this place was different. It was ancient.

The bookshelves he walked through were made of a scented, dark wood that carried its scent throughout the entire hall. It was overwhelming in parts.

Hanging from the tall ceiling was a majestic, golden chandelier that shined almost as bright as the sun. This hall extended out for hundreds of meters, and concentrated inside of it were hundreds of rows of bookshelves. It was absolutely ginormous. You could genuinely get lost here.

The bookshelves were, unfortunately, mostly desolate. There were a few books in every aisle, but they were all in some cryptic language that even Ostin couldn’t recognise. Over many, many trips to libraries that the general public would never ever have access to, he had learned to recognise and appraise foreign cultures, civilizations, and texts.

These books and texts, however, were unrecognizable to him.

“Hey, come over! I’ll show you how I can control the array,” Milo exclaimed eagerly, rotating shifting blue forms of illusory blue light with a flick of his hand.

Squinting his eyes and his hands held behind his back, Ostin saw his older brother standing upon a brass podium. In the air above the counter of the podium were magical blue lights and several screens that…

Ostin bound over to the podium and got a closer look.

How did Milo have an aerial view of Kirkstead?

“Milo, how are you doing this?” Ostin turned and asked.

***

Today was a fine day.

The breast of a perfect beauty was groped in his left hand. She was barely nineteen.

Tonight would be glorious.

In his right was a glass of priceless red wine. It was a magical wine that could seep the flavor through the rest of the body. It was a strange experience, but very delightful.

The wine was great.

He sat at a round table along with nine others. They were old, mysterious, and powerful just like himself. They were, of course, all wielded champion-tier classes. Elite-tier trash weren’t allowed in this cloud-piercing tower of greatness and magnificence. Gathered within this room were some of the greatest [Mages] in the world. Over the past several hours, they had discussed countless mundane and ordinary things.

Forbidden magic. Demons. Sacrificial Magic. Ghosts. Satanic magic. Slave Magic. Thousand-person artillery magic. Love magic. Mind control magic.

Everything illegal and dangerous about magic was on the table here.

Heath was delirious.

Today, he had been inducted into a secret cabal of [Mages] that collectively controlled their own little corners of the world. Two years ago, he had reached Level 100. On that same day, he had received the invitation from this secret cabal.

They called themselves the “Hedgekirks”.

Strange name.

Everyone else also had a woman on their arm. Wine sloshed in glasses. Smiles and laughter were shared all around. Secret information was divulged and new discoveries were made with each passing moment.

Any one of these men could destroy a part of the world with their magic. Their words weighed as much as mountains.

And he was one of them.

This is what Heath had been seeking his entire life.

Power.

And he finally had it.

There was an ache, deep inside of him, that never went even now. But he ignored it.

He always did.

But it didn’t matter because Heath had everything he could ever want. Money. Women. Unfathomable magical power.

Heath was in his mind, quietly calculating and simulating himself fighting against other members of the cabal when he received a message notification.

He opened his eyes and read the notification.

As he read, his eyes slowly widened and his face dropped.

[Novik, The God of Fate, has issued you a quest!]

[Quest: Kill Milo, Son of George!]

[Reward: Anything]

[Consequence of Failure: Death]

[Time Limit: 1 Hour!]

[You have been granted the passive skill [Track Location - Milo, Son of George]!]

[You have received a personal message from Novik, The God of Fate!]

[Message: I SWEAR ON FATE ITSELF THAT IF YOU DO NOT KILL HIM I WILL TORTURE YOUR SOUL UNTIL ALL MY DIVINITY RUNS DRY!!!]