The tattooed attackers were clearly Badlanders, and it seemed they had located the necromancer's hiding spot along with the slaves and had forced them out. The air was filled with panicked shouts as some of the Badlanders' strikes broke through the necromancer's protective magic. The slaves were easily overpowered by a single blow and fell unconscious; without the ability to harness mana, they were like defenseless children compared to those who could.

Red watched as some of the slaves were stepped on, their bones breaking under the weight of glowing Badlanders, causing his hands to tighten into fists. The despairing faces of the slaves being throttled struck him. Roses’ words then came to him, “We were meant to help people.”

But Red was without the entities’ martial arts. He felt powerless.

Footsteps sounded behind Red, causing him to turn to see who he had been thinking of standing behind him.

Rose held an incredulous expression as she sputtered, “Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get aboard my carriage?”

Red nearly stumbled hearing her. “Miss Rose,” Red replied warily, “Why are you making jokes?”

Rose recognized the voice but not the face. Before her was a shirtless young man whose face held symmetrical features that could only be described as handsome. His brown eyes were piercing yet held softness like a flashing thundercloud. His shapely lips held a firm line that expressed determination. His brow was set low but formed thin, casting only a light shadow over his eyes. From atop his head, raven locks flowed down to his bare shoulders and chest, seeming like the mane of a wild stallion.

As a joke, she had told her servants to use cosmetic sage symbol tools to pamper up Red until he looked as noble as those he detested. She was hoping they would share a laugh together and at the same time, spark a friendship into forming while hopefully washing away their rocky start. Unbeknownst to Rose, the servants had done such a remarkable job of removing every trace of weathering and damage caused by Red's life in the slums that she could no longer recognize him.

“We don’t have much time,” Red said urgently, turning back to open the carriage door, “The slaves that had left with the necromancer are in trouble. Although they would consider us enemies, I can’t allow them to be wiped out like insects.” Red had made up his mind. He knew he couldn’t fight anymore, but he still had something he could use.

When he opened the door, the crackling magic forming around the carriage dispersed and he leapt away with a blue light around his body. Remembering what Hawl taught him, Red burst with speed the moment his feet touched the dirt below, kicking up dust clouds.

Colors around him melded into a blur as he broke past mortal limits with his agility, hurtling forward like a rock flung from a sling. The wind whipped at his hair and his heart pounded, matching the thundering beat of his footsteps.

“Who was that?” Rose muttered, astounded, “And how did he know we were after the necromancer?”

Covered in blood, Zini whipped out his hands, and two colossal skeletal hands made of dark energy struck out in sync with his movements, tossing Badlanders back. The anguished cries of the slaves resonated around him, drawing his gaze to the merciless beatings being inflicted upon them by the Badlanders.

Why do I do this? Why do I shoulder such burdens without the needed strength to bear them, he thought with sorrow. The slaves deserve a better protector. I should’ve left them to the Hunters.

Witnessing the slaves' bones break like flimsy twigs sent a pang of pain to his heart. He retaliated with more magic, but it proved futile against the overwhelming number of enemies.

A burst of blue light illuminated the area, drawing Zini's attention to a figure that appeared near the downed slaves. The stranger was rather striking, with symmetrical features that could be described as handsome or even pretty. The stranger's well-groomed appearance and refined features could suggest high birth, but his clothing told a different story. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts, leaving little to the imagination, revealing his toned, wiry muscles that resembled those of a wildcat. The handsome stranger scooped up two slaves and moved with lightning speed, taking them away from the melee.

As Zini followed the trail of blue light emitted by the stranger, he caught sight of him packing the slaves into a fancy carriage driving down a nearby road.

He’s helping? But who is he?

Red zipped back in through the swinging carriage door, surprising Rose. Under each arm, he carried injured individuals dressed in gray. Without missing a beat, he set them down gently and bolted out the door once more.

“Slaves that were with the necromancer…” Rose muttered in surprise, staring down at the pair in gray. She hurried to the carriage window to catch a glimpse of the blue light the young man emitted as he rushed towards what appeared to be a battle. However, upon seeing the necromancer on the field, Rose grimaced with frustration. As much as she wanted to go strike down the dark magic user, the injured state of their team made it nearly impossible.

The shirtless young man reappeared with more slaves in tow, setting them down beside the others.

"Mister Rombell!?" Rose sputtered, finally realizing that the handsome stranger was none other than Red. "Your face...!" she trailed off in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Red apologized warily, “But time is not an ally now.” With that, he leapt away again into the moving scenery outside the carriage.

Rose took a moment to compose herself before taking action. She called out for the carriage to stop, causing the driver to almost fall off the driver seat. However, he skillfully brought the vehicle to a halt. He was clearly a skilled driver, handpicked by Rose's family to ensure their daughter's safety during travel.

In noticing his actions, the Badlanders hurled themselves at Red to stop him, but he moved with such speed that they were unable to keep up. With each slave he rescued, Zini found it easier to defend the remaining ones. Soon, it was only the necromancer left, and the Badlanders turned their full attention to him. Zini was trapped with no escape route, hemmed in by his enemies. He wished he could conjure magic to disappear like he had in the cave, but the time needed to draw runes and arcane diagrams was a luxury he didn't have with the Badlanders closing in on him.

Red entered the carriage with the last of the slaves, his hair long and flowing as the wind tossed it about. "That's the last of them," Red announced to Rose.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Hawl emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes and asking, "What's going on? Why have we stopped?" As he stepped out into the main room, he was startled by the sight of Red standing at the door, shirtless and wearing only shorts. "Gah! Who is this pervert?!" Hawl exclaimed, taken aback, unable to recognize the young brawler.

The sudden commotion caused the other occupants of the carriage to come out of their rooms, some who were in the midst of bathing. Polopp, who had been avoiding the pushy servants trying to clean him, dropped from his hiding spot on the ceiling with a thud. The group was unsure of who Red was, except for Polopp, who recognized him immediately.

“Mister Rombell,” Polopp gasped, “What did they do to you?” Disregarding humans, most other races of the world identified individuals by more than their face, taking into account their scent, sound, mannerisms, and individual mana signature that was unique to them.

“That’s the slum rat?” Welsen uttered in disbelief.

“Mighty fine improvement,” Dawrite commented. The old servant always approved of those who looked presentable, especially anyone who was around Rose. “Now, all we need to do is find you some decent clothing.” Before he could clap his hands to order the servants to find presentable garments, Rose spoke.

“Mister Rombell,” Rose implored, “Capture the necromancer for us.”

Slaves who heard her, stilled. They wanted to argue but they were now indebted to these Hunters for saving them. The slave woman, Franlye, however spoke against it, “Leave Mister Zini alone!”

Ignoring her, Rose held up Red’s Hunter badge and said, “Do your duty as a Hunter.”

Red grabbed the badge and held it in his palm, his eyes lingering on it. “What is a hero?” Red suddenly asked.

Rose felt she’d been thrown off kilter but she recovered soon enough and answered, “Those that do the right thing.”

“Good show, my lady,” Dawrite complimented his lady’s choice of words while nodding his wizened head.

Red smiled, “Then, I will do the right thing. Don’t wait for me.”

Rose found his words odd until she watched his figure, surrounded in blue light, appear near Zini who was about to be overwhelmed. Red then picked up the necromancer and sped in the opposite direction of their carriage.

“What is he doing?” Opalstein asked, his hair still wet from his abruptly ended bath.

Polopp smacked a hand against his face and replied bitterly, “He’s doing what he thinks is the ‘right thing’. It's a pity that my greatest discovery has such strong morals. I'll never have the chance to study him now." He sighed deeply, watching as Red's blue light vanish into the forest.

Rose stood by the window still as a tree trunk, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. Why did Red do that?

Red emerged from the opposite end of the forest, holding the necromancer over a shoulder. He set him back down, allowing the man to walk on his own.

Zini said gratefully, “You have my thanks, stranger. Not only did you save the freed slaves in my care, you also saved my life. May I ask for your name?”

Red's eyes rolled in frustration. What was going on with people today? He had just taken a bath and yet no one seemed to recognize him. Was he so unclean before that dirt had masked his true appearance? Little did Red know, his recent cleaning had dramatically altered his appearance.

“It’s me,” Red replied, “The man from the cave that was with the gnome. I’m Redyl Rombell.”

“No, you’re not,” Zini argued. “That person spoke in an indecipherable manner and had a habit of leaning even when standing—too relaxed for my taste. He also had hair that spread out like a bird’s feathers and had rough looking skin.” His dark green eyes looked Red up and down, observing the smoothness of his shirtless body. “Obviously you have not spent much time outdoors, stranger.”

Red followed the necromancer’s gaze and felt his heart skip a beat. His body had become smooth like silk. He felt around his face and felt as if his hand would slip off with how smooth the skin was. What had those servants done to him? Were they mages?

Zini watched with unease as Red rubbed his hands all over his own skin.

Is he a pervert? Zini asked himself, now regretting not checking the carriage the slaves were placed into to ensure it wasn't a smuggler's vehicle dealing in comfort slaves.

It took longer than he liked for Red to convince Zini who he was, but when he did, Zini felt odder still.

“Why help me then, Mister Rombell?” Zini asked, unsure of the other’s motivations. They were clearly enemies before.

“Those slaves were willing to fight for you,” Red explained. “I can’t imagine you as a villain after witnessing that.”

“And the reason you brought me here instead of the carriage?”

“Rose and the others, the Hunters from before, were in there.”

Zini felt beads of sweat dot his forehead that he had to wipe off. “My thanks again, Mister Rombell. I would’ve been a dead man if you brought me along with the slaves. But what now?”

“I don’t know honestly,” Red answered, shrugging. “I have to go back to Soalde. My friends are waiting for me. What of your destination, necromancer?”

Zini let out a drawn-out sigh, “I lost everything in that laboratory. My notes, my artifacts, and some spells I had written down that I haven’t yet fully memorized.” His head turned up as he looked with forlorn at the darkening sky. “I have to start from nothing.”

“You could join me,” Red offered. “I live in the slums. No one visits the slums.” The necromancer was pale and ghastly thin with a gangly form, but Red saw in his dark green eyes someone who could be defined as a hero. Clearly, Zini should have abandoned the slaves. If not when they were fighting, it should have been when he became surrounded by enemies. But he didn't. Rose said that heroes did the right thing, and Zini did just that.

Zini hesitated, his mind racing with the potential dangers of traveling to Soalde. The city was home to a powerful branch of the Hunter's Guild, where the most skilled and renowned hunters in the land resided, including members of the esteemed Royal Suit. The thought of crossing paths with them made him nervous. However, as he weighed his options, he realized that Soalde was also a large city with many different districts, including the slums, which were far removed from the guild's prestigious headquarters. It was there that he could hide in plain sight, unnoticed by the guild's elite members who lived in a completely different world. With this in mind, he made his decision.

“You’ve convinced me,” Zini said then held out his hand. “My name is Vizini Sawn. You can call me Zini.”

“Redyl Rombell,” Red smiled, shaking his hand. “Call me Red.”

Together, they began their journey towards Soalde, taking a roundabout path to avoid the Badlanders. As they walked, Red asked, “Is necromancy a popular form of magic to learn?”

Zini felt awkward at Red’s ignorance and replied, “Necromancy is a prohibited art in most lands. No culture likes their dead being tampered with. I’m surprised you don’t know this.”

“I was a dullard not too long ago,” Red said. “Somehow, I became more aware than I ever been recently. Something happened to my mind when Polopp gave me a soul enhancing potion.”

“Polopp?”

“The gnome I was with,” Red answered.

Zini's face contorted with anger as he muttered, "I hate him." But then he caught himself, remembering that the man next to him was an associate of the gnome. "I'm sorry," he quickly corrected himself, "I didn't mean to say that." Although he did indeed despise the gnome, he was unwilling to upset his new acquaintance.

“Why do you hate him?” Red asked, able to discern the truth from his words.

“He thinks he knows everything!” Zini nearly shouted, his intellectual defeat at the gnome’s hands still raw.

“I think he does know everything,” Red mused, pondering recent events and the skillful way in which Pollop had orchestrated them to achieve his goals. His kickboxer entity had become suspicious of the gnome due to his unnatural connection to the flow of things, and had been able to pick up on Pollop's strange patterns that disturbed that flow.

Zini audibly groaned hearing Red’s response, his confidence as the Magitarius’ top student was beginning lose its luster.

As they gained some distance through the forest, Red found a long blade of grass to chew on and asked Zini, "Do you think necromancy is bad?"

Zini took a moment to consider his words before answering, "Magic itself is a tool. If used incorrectly, it can bring devastation to its victims as well as the practitioner. But if used well, magic such as necromancy can be helpful to those around it." He laughed at a passing memory, "I actually didn't start off as a necromancer. I was once a mage of elements. Only after I..." He trailed off and went quiet.

Curious, Red prompted, "After you what?"

Zini scratched the back of his head and his eyes grew downcast. "Never mind," he muttered, feeling that there wasn't anyone alive he could talk to about his past.

Red kicked some stones at his feet and changed the subject, "Can you teach me magic?"