The Cardinal and his men were hot on Mr. F's trail. They followed the trail of destruction left by the beasts as they made their way deeper into the forest. The priest riding beside the Cardinal began to feel uneasy. The ground trembled beneath them, and he knew what this meant. He wanted to warn the Cardinal, but before he could, the Cardinal brushed him off, his arrogance blinding him to the impending danger.

Suddenly, the massive gorilla and the fire stallion appeared before them. The ground shook under their powerful presence. The Cardinal, recognizing the danger, was about to call for a retreat when a deep chasm opened up behind them, cutting off any escape route. They were trapped.

With no other option, the Cardinal shouted for his men to attack. What followed was nothing short of a massacre. The beasts tore through the church soldiers like paper, their strength far surpassing anything the humans could muster. Blood and screams filled the air as one by one, the warriors of the church fell. Only one priest managed to escape. With only one hand, he flew desperately over the chasm as the battle raged below.

Just as he thought he had escaped certain death, Mr. F appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. The priest gasped in terror as Mr. F's hand clamped down over his face, his voice calm yet chilling. "I have a few questions for you," he whispered, dragging the priest away into the shadows.

...

Back within the city, in a dark chamber lit only by the eerie glow of a massive crystal, Tem sat quietly. Her gaze was fixed on the crystal, monitoring every movement, every shift in the energy outside the city. The target had left the city a quarter of an hour ago, and there had been no sign of its return. There was nothing she could do now but wait.

Suddenly, the crystal reacted. The target was back, but this time, something was different. It was moving with tremendous speed—directly toward her location. Tem's eyes widened in fear. She dropped everything and bolted for the exit. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the door, but before she could step outside, Mr. F was already there.

"I think we should have a little chat, young lady," he said coldly.

Before she could react, Mr. F grabbed her by the shoulder. In an instant, they disappeared from the city.

When Tem awoke, she was in a dark cellar. Her hands and legs were bound by magical restraints that drained every ounce of her mana. She was trapped, and any hope of escape was gone. Across from her, Mr. F sat calmly, watching her with an unsettling gaze.

"You've had quite the tragic life, haven't you?" Mr. F began, his voice oddly soothing. "I've seen your past, and I must say, I sympathize. Your hunger for power, your desire to rise through the ranks of the church, all so that you'd never be pushed around again."

Tem remained silent, knowing all too well that soul mages had the ability to read minds and memories. She had already accepted her fate. She was going to die.

Mr. F leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "But what if you didn't have to die? What would you do then, Tem?"

Tem scoffed internally. What a ridiculous attempt to break her spirit. Was he trying to give her false hope, only to crush it at the last moment? "You filthy soul mage," she spat, her voice trembling with both anger and fear. "You might kill me today, but one day, the church will hunt you down. Your kind is a curse on this world."

Mr. F smiled, amused by her defiance. "Oh, a fiery one, I see."

He approached her slowly, his presence overwhelming. Tem tensed, fearing the worst. She tried to bite down on her tongue, desperate to end her life before he could defile her mind any further. But Mr. F anticipated her every move. With a flick of his wrist, he stopped her, preventing her from taking her own life.

"You still have a purpose to serve, Tem. Don't be so hasty."

Drawing on the last remnants of vitality from his earlier potion, Mr. F delved deep into her mind. The resistance was fierce—followers of the Church of Light were known for their mental fortitude—but after several agonizing minutes, he broke through her defenses. Her thoughts, her memories, her will, all laid bare before him.

When he was done, Mr. F collapsed back into his seat, utterly drained. His life hung by a thread, but he had anticipated this.

With trembling hands, he took out a day's boost potion of rank 5, one he had created while Tem was unconscious. He drank it, feeling his strength slowly return.

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Half an hour passed before Tem stirred. When she opened her eyes, she looked up at Mr. F with a newfound loyalty. "How may I serve you, master?"

A wicked grin spread across Mr. F's face. The church had come for his head, but now, he had an insider, a pawn within their ranks. "You will return to your post," he instructed. "When they ask what happened to the soul mage and the Cardinal, you will tell them that they both perished in battle. The beasts attacked, leaving no evidence of their bodies. Say that the soul mage worked with the beasts to destroy the city, if it makes the story more believable. I don't care what they think of me."

Tem knelt before him, fully obedient. "Yes, master. Thank you for this chance."

Mr. F nodded, satisfied with how well his mental manipulation had worked. "You are now the highest-ranking member of the church in this city. Until reinforcements arrive, I want you to strive for rank 6. I will assist you in reaching it, and once you do, you will be in charge of the church's operations here. One of your dreams fulfilled, at least."

Tem bowed her head, gratitude in her voice. "Thank you, master."

Leaving her in the cellar, Mr. F stepped outside, breathing in the cool night air. He was standing in the same dungeon where the city lord had once imprisoned the two women.

The streets were quiet, but the citizens had begun emerging from the dome, one by one. Magicians patrolled the streets, searching for any remaining survivors or stray monsters.

In the heart of the city, Mr. F spotted his apprentices, Betty and Albert, standing with a group of lab workers. With them stood Matilda and Emma, accompanied by an older man with graying hair. Despite his age, the man's muscular build and sharp features made him appear much younger than he was. Mr. F could tell that this man was no ordinary person.

Emma and Matilda noticed Mr. F approaching and called out to him. Mr. F sighed. He had dealt with all the immediate threats to his plans, and now it was time to face the others.

Mr. F walked slowly towards the group, his expression calm and measured. As he approached, his two apprentices, Betty and Albert, immediately rushed to greet him. "Master, we're so relieved to see you!" Betty exclaimed, her eyes filled with worry. "We feared something might have happened to you during the attack."

Albert nodded in agreement, his voice trembling with the echoes of fear still lingering. "We didn't know if you were safe... The city was in chaos."

Mr. F offered them a knowing smile, but there was a hidden depth to it. They had no memory of how he had saved them during the collapse of the dome. To them, the last time they had seen him was during the meeting the day before. The memory alteration spell had done its job perfectly.

"I'm glad to see both of you are unharmed," Mr. F replied, his voice soft but firm. His gaze shifted to Matilda and Emma, who stood nearby. "Matilda, Emma, it's good to see you well."

Emma's smile held a certain unspoken understanding. "Indeed," she said, her tone carrying layers of meaning only Mr. F could decipher. "It's fortunate that we are all safe. And, of course, you as well, Mr. F."

Mr. F caught the subtle subtext. She was referring to their earlier conversation, where he had mentioned regaining some of his former strength to protect the city. Emma was clever, sharper than most, and their little agreement was still fresh in her mind.

Standing beside her was an older man with a commanding presence, his silver hair and strong frame a testament to his years of experience and power. He stepped forward, extending his hand. "Good day, Mr. F. I'm Gustav Silverblade, Emma's father and the head of our family. I wanted to personally thank you for your efforts in defending our city." His voice was courteous but held a certain weight, one that could command armies. "I've heard about some of the difficulties you've faced. Perhaps we could speak privately later about these matters."

Mr. F took his hand, and for a moment, he felt a small pulse of Gustav's magic, a probe, testing his strength. Gustav's eyes narrowed slightly as he realized Mr. F's current power was that of a mere rank 6 mage, far from the formidable strength he once possessed. Mr. F remained unfazed, allowing Gustav to draw his conclusions.

Time passed quickly as the city began its long process of recovery. Mr. F, despite his limited remaining magical energy, joined in the efforts. Using his earth magic, he assisted in dismantling the damaged dome, stone by stone, until nothing remained but the towering tree in the center of the marketplace. The tree, a remnant of the spell he had cast to save the city, now dominated the heart of the city like an ancient guardian.

The city's magicians gathered, whispering among themselves about how to deal with the colossal tree. Some suggested removing it entirely, fearing its unknown magical properties. However, to everyone's surprise, the city lord ordered that the tree be left untouched. It would stand as a monument to the day the city nearly fell.

With that decision made, the focus shifted to repairing the damaged homes and filling in the deep trenches that the battle had left behind. Mr. F worked alongside the other mages, using what little magical energy he had left to restore the homes that had been reduced to rubble. Each repair took great effort, as his magic was nearly depleted after the events of the day. Still, he labored quietly, his mind elsewhere.

The hours slipped away, and by evening, the city was beginning to resemble itself again, though the scars of battle would take much longer to heal. Mr. F, exhausted but satisfied with his efforts, returned to the laboratory with the others. Fortunately, the lab had escaped the worst of the destruction. Only a few pieces of furniture in Mr. F's room had been overturned, a minor inconvenience compared to the damage elsewhere.

He bid his companions goodnight and retreated to his private quarters. Once inside, a sly smile spread across his face as he shut the door behind him. Now that the day's obligations were complete, it was time to inspect his true reward—the spoils he had carefully collected throughout the chaos of the battle.