People often lower their guard when they believe victory is assured.

  The certainty that their attack would land. The conviction that a single hit would mean instant death for their opponent.

  These two assumptions gave Silva the opportunity he needed to turn the tide in his favor.

  "Hey, old man. Where am I?" Silva asked calmly as he approached the old man, who was now kneeling and clutching his side. The sorcerer's ribs were likely shattered.

  "Ugh..."

  "Hey, I asked you a question."

  Snap.

  A sharp, dry crack echoed in the room, like a twig snapping underfoot.

  It was the sound of Silva's kick breaking the old man's left elbow.

  Without a pause, Silva's next move sent his foot crashing into the sorcerer's side again.

  "Come on, old man. Answer me. You were just shouting 'Die!' and 'Is he gone?' So, you must understand my language, right?"

  A seemingly harmless smile spread across Silva's lips.

  But to the old man, that smile was more terrifying than any scowl.

  "Ugh..."

  The old man couldn't speak, the pain was too intense. He could do nothing but curl up, trying to endure it.

  Silva's kick had broken several more of his ribs.

  "Listen, I don't really enjoy doing this," Silva said, gripping the old man's ear and twisting it upward.

  The weight of the old man's body pulled against his ear, tearing the skin and causing blood to trickle down.

  "S-Stop! Please, let go!"

  "Oh, 'let go,' is it? That's not how you ask for a favor, old man. Especially not at your age; you should know better manners."

  Silva's smile remained, but his eyes narrowed, turning cold as ice.

  His expression had shifted so dramatically that he was almost unrecognizable compared to the ordinary high school student he had seemed just moments earlier.

  His eyes were sharp, his face devoid of emotion, like a stone mask.

  This might be his true nature, usually kept hidden beneath the surface.

  The nature of a predator. And the old man was the first to witness this side of Silva.

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  Thud.

  Another heavy blow landed on the old man's right side.

  "Gyaaaaaah!"

  A primal scream tore from the old man's throat.

  Silva's powerful left hook sent the old man, who was barely 160 cm and about 60 kg, flying several meters.

  Since Silva hadn't released his grip on the old man's ear, it tore clean off, remaining in Silva's hand.

  "Come on, old man. How about some honesty? Just answer my questions, and this can end."

  Silva casually strolled over to where the old man lay face down.

  "S-Stop... I'll talk... I'll tell you everything..."

  Blood-tinged foam spilled from the old man's mouth with every word, likely because a broken rib had punctured his lung.

  His face was smeared with blood from his torn ear.

  Finally, unable to bear the pain any longer, the old man began to speak frantically.

  "Good, good. That's better. First question: Where are we?"

  "This... this is the Royal Palace... of the Ortomea Empire."

  "The Ortomea Empire?"

  Silva's face showed a flicker of confusion at the old man's words.

  Silva was well versed in geography and had a knack for social studies.

  He could name nearly every country on Earth, but he had no memory of any place called the Ortomea Empire.

  "Yes... it's the dominant power... in the central region... of the Western Continent."

  The old man spat out another bubble of blood.

  He seemed unaware of the bewilderment on Silva's face.

  "Alright, next question. Why am I here?"

  "Because... I... summoned you..."

  "Ah, I thought as much."

  Silva responded nonchalantly to the old man's confession.

  The old man peered into Silva's eyes, searching for any hint of confusion, ecstasy, or shifting emotions. But his efforts were in vain, Silva's gaze was utterly blank, devoid of any expression.

  Understanding what Silva was thinking was nearly impossible. His thoughts were like a locked room, with no windows to glimpse inside.

  "Now, for the third question. This one is crucial, so answer carefully, alright? It will significantly impact your future!"

  With these words, Silva leaned in closer to the elderly man and asked:

  "I can return to my original world, can't I?"

  His tone was calm and unthreatening, the words blunt yet delivered casually, as if speaking with a familiar acquaintance. This, paradoxically, made his words even more frightening.

  The old man's heart raced, thundering in his chest as if it might burst. This was the question he had dreaded most.

  He desperately scrambled for a lie to buy himself some time.

  ("Should I say yes? No, if I say yes, he'll demand to be sent back immediately. So, what do I say? Maybe I should claim it takes time to prepare...?")

  Gaius Walkland, the Chief Court Magician of the Ortomea Empire, celebrated for his wisdom, could not afford to be killed by someone of such low standing.

  The fate of the empire rested upon his shoulders.

  (I must stall... If any trouble arises, the guards will rush in.)

  Battling the pain from his fractured bones, Gaius suddenly became aware of Silva's fingers lightly touching his throat.

  "Hey, old man. Lying isn't a good idea, you know? It's not."

  Silva grabbed a fistful of Gaius's hair, pulling his face closer as he spoke.

  "Li... Lying... what... are you..."

  "You were thinking about it, weren't you?"

  Silva zeroed in on Gaius's thoughts and continued:

  "It's your pulse. You were afraid I'd catch your lie, weren't you? That's why your heartbeat spiked."

  In truth, Silva's words were merely a bluff.

  He had indeed checked the pulse, but he couldn't tell whether it was due to a lie, the agony of broken bones, or simply the fear Gaius felt toward him.

  But Silva was confident. It was the fear that flashed across Gaius's face right after the third question.

  This meant the situation was dire enough for the old man to fear that Silva might kill him. His silence suggested he was concocting a lie to escape his predicament.

  "Y... You... have such a power..."

  "Come on, just say it. Can I go back or not?"

  After much hesitation, Gaius finally spoke.

  His expression carried a trace of resignation.

  "Impossible... At least, not with my abilities..."

  "Hmm. I suspected as much from how you were acting. So, is there any way back?"