Erick, swiftly made his way to the royal magician chamber. However, upon entering, he was greeted by a scene of disarray. Research papers were scattered across tables and chairs, giving the room an uncharacteristically chaotic appearance. Undeterred, Erick scanned the room and soon spotted a child, lying fast asleep on the floor.
"Hey! Hey!" Erick called out, but the kid remained unresponsive. Frustrated, Erick approached and delivered a swift kick to kid's backside because of emergency. Startled and clearly disoriented, child name Derik jolted awake, his brown curly hair in disarray, saliva drooling from the corner of his mouth, and dark circles are visible under his bleary eyes.
"What the hell?" Derik grumbled, in anger, a fiery determination burning in his eyes, he conjured a searing fireball and hurled it towards Erick. Reacting swiftly, Erick withdrew his sword and skillfully deflected the fireball, sending sparks scattering in all directions. The room flickered with the remnants of the magical clash.
However, Erick's surprise turned to awe as he observed Derik, a mere nine-year-old commoner, exhibiting a level of mastery over 4th-tier magic—an impressive feat for one so young. The relentless child didn't stop there; he immediately started chanting, launching a barrage of lightning and fireballs at Erick, displaying a proficiency that belied his age and status.
Erick, now engaged in a dance of dodging and deflecting, found himself challenged by the unexpected prowess of the young magician. Amidst the magical onslaught, he couldn't help but murmur, "As expected of the successor and only disciple of the 10th-circle magician, who stands at the pinnacle of magic."
Despite acknowledging Derik's exceptional lineage and potential, Erick couldn't hide his assertive remark, "You are weak!" He shot forward with monstrous speed, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
Derik, taken aback by Erick's sudden burst of speed, barely had time to react. Erick's approach was relentless, and with a well-timed maneuver, he swiftly evaded Derik's magical onslaught. The room echoed with the sounds of magical clashes and quick movements, creating an intense atmosphere.
Erick's agile maneuvers allowed him to get behind Derik, and with remarkable speed, he put his sword to Derik's neck. The teen, shocked and momentarily defeated, realized the power discrepancy between them.
Without wasting a second, Erick exuded a murderous aura, a stark contrast to the magical prowess they had just witnessed. He sternly ordered Derik, "quickly send letters and teleportation stones to my subordinates".
However, Derik, unyielding and with a touch of irritation, boldly defies the command. "I don't take orders from anyone other than my master," he retorts, sparking a tense exchange.
Erick, well-aware of the consequences that loom over insubordination, warns the young Derik of the severe punishment for attacking and refusing a high-ranking noble.
Derik, biting his lips, acknowledged the inevitable repercussions of his actions. The social hierarchy dictated that he could not ignore the commands of nobility without facing consequences. Cursing his fate for being born as a commoner, Derik grappled with the reality that, regardless of his talents and power, he couldn't escape the constraints of his background. The nobles, whom he despised, held authority over him, and he reluctantly accepted the harsh truth.
With a sense of resignation, Derik walked towards his disheveled table and asked Erick about the details of the person to whom the letters needed to be sent. Erick, closing the distance between them and asked Derik, "Do you know how to perform a transportation spell".
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"Do you want to send letter or not?" Derik asked while glaring Erick. Erick decided to trust young magician, he takes out a letter from his pocket and placed it before Derik.
Without hesitation, Derik began chanting, and within a minute, Erick observed the contents of the letter being intricately engraved onto scrolls. The young magician clap twice, and in an instant, both the letters and the transportation stones had disappeared.
Erick couldn't help but marvel at Derik's remarkable talent, pondering, "This kid is so talented. If only he was born a noble." However, his thoughts quickly shifted to the enigmatic old magician who had taken Derik under his wing. Erick harbored skepticism, muttering to himself, "That old geezer, I don't know what he's thinking. He's someone who hates commoners even more. Then why he took this commoner as his only disciple. He's a wolf always ready to eat anyone for power."
Turning towards Derik, who was already glancing back at him, Erick sternly advised, "Don't trust that old fox.", his tone carrying a note of seriousness. Derik, taken aback by the unexpected advice, was about to seek clarification when a new guest made a dramatic entrance.
Covered in blood and holding a scroll, the man in his forties announced his arrival with a nonchalant smile. "Oh, I am first, as always," he remarked, acknowledging Erick. In response, Erick respectfully greeted the individual, "Hello, Marquis Reynald Thorne."
Marquis Reynald Thorne, the head of House Thorne tasked with protecting the North borders from beasts, returned the greeting with a smile. Sensing the unspoken question, Marquis inquired, "So, why did the king suddenly call for a meeting?"
Before Erick could respond, Derik, interrupting the conversation by greeting someone.
"Welcome back, Master," Derik exclaimed with enthusiasm to the man in his eighties, who defied his age with a youthful appearance, entered the room. Dressed in a luxurious robe, his golden hair adding to the regal aura, the man appraised Derik and remarked, "Still at the 4th circle." Disappointment tainted his words, and he clicked his tongue in disapproval.
Marquis, witnessing Derik's crestfallen expression, attempted to console him, acknowledging the impressive feat of reaching the 4th magical circle at the age of nine. "Four circles at such a young age is truly impressive, Lord," Marquis commented, trying to divert attention from Derik's apparent letdown.
However, Lord, the 10th-circle royal magician, dismissed Marquis' words with a glance, treating him as inconsequential, as if he were no more than a weak insect. Erick, noticing the disdainful expression on Lord's face, understood the deep-seated prejudice this powerful mage held against swordsmen, viewing them as inferior beings compared to those who wielded magic.
In the intricate hierarchy of Eldoria, where magic and swordsmanship coexisted, Lord's scorn for swordsmen. It was a sentiment shared by many high-ranking magicians who considered their magical prowess superior.
As Derik sensed the tension in the room, he glanced towards Erick, the one who had warned him about Lord's true nature. The advice echoed in his mind as he turned his gaze to Lord, who was already glaring at him. Feeling the weight of the situation, Derik averted his eyes and lowered his gaze.
In the midst of this uneasy atmosphere, Lord addressed Derik, tossing a box towards him. Derik caught it with a mix of confusion and anticipation. Upon opening the box, he discovered a dragon heart inside, radiating a magical glow.
Lord instructed him,"Absorb its mana and quickly advance to fifth circle".
"Dragon heart," Derik acknowledged, his eyes lighting up with gratitude and determination.
As the magical energy enveloped him, Derik couldn't shake off the feeling that his fate was intricately tied to Lord. Grateful for the food, shelter, and guidance provided, he acknowledged the complexities of his situation.
Lord smirked while looking at Derik and muttered to himself, "I will definitely reach the 11th circle after consuming his heart."
Erick keenly perceived the dark intention lurking behind Lord's smirk, and for a moment, the urge to warn Derik surged within him. However, upon noticing the arrival of every summoner, he postpone his warning for a more opportune moment. He greeted everyone politely and instructed them to follow him as the king awaited their presence.