"That's not a problem," Murphy smiled and patted his disciple on the head. "For a battlemage like you who uses your own life force to empower spells, the more vitality you invest during casting, the greater the power. What matters most now is proficiency."
"Who hasn't had a go at me?" Murphy pondered for a moment, then contentedly returned to his room after giving a passing dog a kick.
His previously ongoing work, The Earl's Younger Son, had just been officially declared completed. The male protagonist in the book had overcome adversity and finally reclaimed what was rightfully his, clearing his father's name in the process. With Alaric's followers subtly spreading it around, Murphy was confident the book would gradually trickle into the bored noble circles.
---
Dusk, outside the City of Gath.
A long-haired young man in plain clothes glanced at the city walls in the distance and heaved a sigh of relief.
As an assassin, his deadline was almost up. To avoid suspicion after assassinating Seth, his orders were to kill the new viscount a month after he returned to his territory. After imprinting the target's appearance firmly in mind, the man had undergone twenty days of special training.
Five days ago, he had set off from the capital, doing his utmost to disguise himself as an ordinary commoner. But his long hair still tended to attract attention. To keep his locks while reducing exposure risk, the long-haired assassin had completely messed up his circadian rhythms, travelling only at night.
Unsure what had happened recently in the viscounty to result in so many checkpoints along the way, but as someone well-versed in stealthily navigating the shadows, slipping past those wooden-headed guards wasn't hard.
As a battlemage trained in both magic and martial arts, he was extremely confident in his physique. Despite the days of overturned cycles, he believed that with his level 30 vitality and spells, he would surely meet no match here in petite City of Gath.
With this thought, the man melted back into the shadows of the trees, continuing his approach to the city gates. Tonight he would enter the city, stake out tomorrow, and the night after, Seth Reed would die!
---
2 Clyster Street, City of Gath.
Having outlined a new story, Murphy put down his quill and left his room as the sun set, looking for the most reliable person in the house. "Pepe, I'm going to the demon realm for an inspection. Want to come along?"
"No thanks, I still have a Common homework essay to write tomorrow. I need to sleep and regenerate HP," the girl swiftly switched from performance mode to power saving mode, letting go of the dog she was playing with to run back to her room.
"Alright then, if anything comes up, remember to watch the house," Murphy shook his head and went down to the magic circle in the basement by himself.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Late at night, an almost imperceptible ripple of magical energy passed along the walls, stirring the slumbering girl from her dreams. Silently, she reached for the best staff the Little River Village shops could provide, propped up by her bed.
The long-haired man emerged from the chimney's shadows, standing on the rooftop of 2 Clyster Street, gazing at the reachable Reed Castle just yonder.
Stretching out a yearning hand, he clenched his fist tightly. "Anyone who obstructs Teacher must die! You're just one insignificant..."
"Yo, what are you doing on someone else's roof in the middle of the night?"
The untimely childish voice interrupted his self-important soliloquy.
The long-haired man turned back, half-vexed. At the other end of the roof stood only a pajama-clad girl, holding what looked to be a cut-rate staff.
"Who are you?" he asked with feigned composure.
"I'm obviously the owner of this house!" The girl pointed at the building beneath their feet. "I'm the head of household and you're trespassing on private property."
Seeing his presence exposed, the man cast a reluctant glance at Reed Castle in the distance, murder arising in his heart.
What a pity for the child, but it couldn't be helped. Teacher's mission had to be completed.
Steeling himself, the handsome man forced a smile. "Little girl, isn't it past your bedtime? You should rest."
"You haven't said why you're here yet..."
Before Pepe could finish speaking, her opponent flicked his wrist. A half-transparent blade of wind sliced swiftly toward her slender neck.
Bracing the staff, Pepe jerked her head aside sharply. The wind blade grazed past her ear with a clear piercing whish, leaving a mark on the distant grass.
Pepe had no time to feel the danger before brandishing her staff. A decaying light fired from its tip toward the man.
Nimbly leaping backward, the beam struck the roof tiles by the assassin instead. The tile piece seemed to instantly weather a hundred years, crazing over with cracks.
"Mage?" they exclaimed in unison.
The young assassin and young mage sized each other up on opposite ends of the rooftop, looking for all the world like some Jianzhen Temple showdown.
Unhurried, the man drew out a short, thick staff from his black nightwalker outfit. Pepe recognized from Murphy's common knowledge lessons that such sturdy wooden weapons were usually wielded by battlemages trained in both magic and martial arts.
So the simplest way to handle this guy was—keep your distance to prevent close combat.
By now, the man had also noticed the innocent tile eroded by decay.
"Dark mage?"
"Battlemage?"
Once again, simultaneous exclamations.
Pepe patted her pocket like her opponent had, but came up empty. She should have a special crystal on her that could contact Murphy, a gift from Tyre and Neil. But right now she was in pajamas and the gem was in her regular clothes.
"Crap," Pepe thought. "Should have worn it as a necklace."
Now her only option was—flee, no, open up the distance.
Pepe retreated one step back to the edge of the roof. Then throwing her arms wide, before her assassin opponent could make out what spell this was the starting stance for, she tipped straight back off the roof.
Pepe remembered there was a dried grass pile below. As long as Lambert hadn't left pitchforks lying around in it, she probably wouldn't get hurt.
Recalling Murphy's words about her HP bar, she felt even more reassured. Just as Pepe braced herself for impact with the ground—
"Arwoo~!"
"Splatch!"
Two bizarre sounds came simultaneously and Pepe felt like she had landed on a bed, completely unhurt.
Looking down reflexively, she saw Buster the rainbow glowing slime desperately trying to re-form the shape of the golden retriever.
"...Buster! Buster, are you okay?" Pepe gathered up the gelatinous mass and cradled it in one arm, still clutching her staff. She fled the area while checking worriedly on the dog reverting back in her embrace.
The assassin's murmur was carried over by the wind to the girl's ears. "Sorry about this, little mage!"