The group reached Flesa after two days. As they approached, Leo could finally see the city's main gate in the distance. After another half hour of steady travel, they arrived at the gate itself. Cirnath handed a folded paper to Liamond, his tone brisk and commanding.

“Give this to Edmond. Your mission is complete. Well done, all of you.”

Without hesitation, the six of them placed their fists over their chests in a respectful salute. Cirnath acknowledged the gesture with a brief nod before turning on his heel and making his way toward the cathedral without another word.

Carter, breaking the silence, approached Liamond, with Adam and Evelyn trailing just behind him.

“See you around, guys,” Carter said, giving a relaxed wave.

Evelyn and Adam echoed his farewell, offering waves of their own. After a few more quick goodbyes, the trio departed, heading back toward the association. Liamond, still clutching the paper, stepped into Edmond’s office to deliver it.

Inside, Edmond took the report and scanned it with a practiced eye, while the group waited, the room thick with a quiet tension. After a moment, he set the paper aside and looked up, his face neutral but his words approving.

“It seems there was some trouble, but you handled it well. Excellent work, everyone. You can collect your compensation from Peter later.”

Leo blinked in surprise. Compensation? He hadn’t anticipated that at all. As he mulled over the unexpected reward, the door creaked open, and Rorin stepped into the room.

Edmond's gaze flicked between Rorin and the group. “You’re dismissed. Take tomorrow off to rest.”

The team saluted once more, fists pressed to their chests, and turned to leave. But as they were about to exit, Edmond’s voice cut through the air.

"Leo, stay behind," Edmond added.

Leo halted, even more puzzled than before. Liamond and Wina exchanged curious glances but left without a word. Once they were gone, Rorin motioned for Leo to sit, taking a seat himself. Leo joined him, suspecting this was about the mission and the light sword he'd used.

But Rorin surprised him. He began recounting a story about a policeman and Rosie, which made Leo’s hand clench into a fist. When Rorin finished, Leo took a moment to calm his racing thoughts before meeting his master's gaze.

“Thank you, Master,” Leo said quietly.

Rorin nodded, and Leo turned to Edmond. "What’s going to happen to them now, Captain?”

Edmond steepled his hands beneath his chin. "They’ve been banished to another city, never to return."

"And their friends?" Leo pressed.

"I’ve instructed the police chief to make a public announcement, using them as an example. The message will be clear to everyone."

Edmond left out the part where he'd personally intimidated the officers, his mere presence reducing them to quivering wrecks.

Leo nodded, his expression hardening. "Then I'm satisfied with that."

Leo stood up and said, "If there's nothing else, I need to see my family."

Edmond nodded. "You can go now."

Without wasting another second, Leo left the office and exited the association, his pace quickening with each step. The thought of seeing his family drove him forward, almost into a run. Though he had only been in this world for five months, his attachment to his new family was undeniable.

His brisk walk soon turned into a sprint. After about five minutes, he reached his home, his heart pounding with anticipation. He fumbled with the key in his haste, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside. Before he could call out, Rosie flew into his arms.

"Leo..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Lisa stood nearby, a hint of worry etched on her face. Leo reached out to gently pat her head.

"I'm sorry I wasn’t here to protect you," he said, anger flickering in his eyes.

Rosie looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. She shook her head. "Mr. Rorin was there; it’s okay."

They held each other tightly for a few moments, the weight of recent events lingering between them. Finally, Lisa spoke up, her voice soft but firm. "Rosie, your brother is tired."

"It’s okay, Mom," Leo replied,

Rosie pulled back, her eyes red from crying.

Leo gave her a reassuring smile, but his thoughts were already racing, determined to ensure nothing like this ever happened again.

“Do you want lunch?” Lisa asked, her voice gentle.

“I’ll take a bath first,” Leo replied, his tone distracted.

He headed straight to the bathroom, his mind churning with thoughts. His recent actions had provoked the police officers to retaliate. Next time, he’d need to be more careful, to think things through before acting. And if he was going to protect his family, he realized he needed more than just caution—he needed power and knowledge.

After his bath, Leo joined his family at the large wooden dining table, where the aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted vegetables filled the air. As they ate, he recounted tales from his recent journey, carefully skirting around the dangerous encounter with the bandits. His mother listened intently, her eyes narrowing as if she sensed there was more to the story, but she said nothing. Once lunch was over, Leo excused himself and headed to his room.

Inside his room, Leo quietly closed the door and sat on the edge of his neatly made bed. His gaze lingered on the books stacked atop his drawer, their spines worn from frequent use. His mind churned with unresolved thoughts—if he wanted to grow stronger, he'd need to push past his current limits, to delve deeper into knowledge and training.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

His eyes shifted toward the closet, where his most prized possessions were kept—his collection of treasured books. "Blood Fiends," a thick, detailed tome about a particular type of creature, lay open, its pages dog-eared from countless hours of study. He was nearly finished with it. Next to it sat two other volumes: Creatures of the Night and Red Moon, both equally demanding of his attention. And beyond those lay his language books

Leo had already learned a few spells—Light Ball, which he could summon with a flick of his fingers; Telepathy, allowing him to communicate silently with the help of his ring; Illusion, capable of creating small, deceptive images; False Power, which stopped magic items from working; Telekinesis, enabling him to move objects with his mind which he needed more time to master completely; False Aura, to disguise his magical presence; and Calm, a soothing touch that could steady nerves. The illusion field spells were the most plentiful, but their effects were limited, especially at his current rank. For instance, Calm was a simple spell that allowed him to ease his own or another's anxiety with a touch or a brief gaze at its magical circle, but to access more potent spells, he needed to advance his rank.

Until the end of tomorrow was designated as a rest day, giving Leo an abundance of free time. He pulled "Blood Fiends" from the closet, its leather-bound cover worn and familiar from frequent use and settled into his favorite chair by the window. The afternoon sun streamed in, casting a golden glow over the pages as he delved into it, letting the vivid descriptions and tense plot draw him in.

By the evening of the next day, Leo had not only finished the remaining chapters of "Blood Fiends" but had also wrapped up his studies of the Basic Elven Language. A sense of accomplishment filled him as he closed the last book.

The following morning, Leo made his way to the library for his lesson with Lavi. The grand library, with its towering shelves and the scent of aged parchment, always felt like a second home to him. He returned the Elven Language book to its rightful place on the shelf, running his fingers along the spines of other volumes as he walked to the study area. Taking a seat at the large oak table, he waited for Lavi to arrive. When his teacher finally joined him, they spent the session perfecting the Calm spell, refining its use until Leo had mastered it completely. Over the next few days, he dedicated himself to honing his Telekinesis skills and diving into the intricacies of "Ancient Elven Language" and "Basic Alchemy," determined to unlock the next level.

…

It was Sunday, the day of the meeting. Leo had already completed his patrol and was preparing to return home. As he stood in the dimly lit storage room, gathering his belongings, a nagging curiosity gnawed at him. He had been wrestling with question for days and now, with Peter nearby, the opportunity was too tempting to resist.

“Mr. Peter,” Leo began, his voice steady but laced with the eagerness of a young knight seeking answers, “the mission I was on a few days ago—was the identity of the item we retrieved a secret?”

Peter paused in his work, lifting his head to meet Leo’s gaze.

“It was,” Peter replied, his tone measured, “until you delivered it to the church in Niver. But now, it’s no longer classified; us Paladins are allowed to know.”

Leo's curiosity deepened. “What exactly was it? Captain Cirnath mentioned it was an A-rank harp.”

Peter nodded, his expression serious. “Yes, it’s the Harp of the Archangel. I don’t have all the details, but it’s an A-rank artifact with the power to destroy an entire city.”

Leo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A city?”

Peter’s gaze hardened, underscoring the gravity of the situation. “Yes. Items of that rank are not like people. An A-rank artifact is a perilous thing, even for an S-rank, it’s incredibly difficult to wield.”

Leo’s mind raced. “What about the bandits who tried to steal it?”

“Investigation suggests they were hired by someone powerful in the North,” Peter explained, his voice lowering.

“The Northern Kingdom? Does that mean they have a spy in our city?” Leo asked, his concern growing.

Peter chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Of course, they do. It’s nearly impossible to root out every spy.”

“But don’t Paladins write their names in the holy book?” Leo pressed. “Doesn’t that mean that spying would be impossible for them?”

Peter’s expression turned thoughtful. “First of all, who said that everyone in the church is a Paladin? And second, maybe what they’re doing is, in their minds, for the God of Light. Only God can judge their actions.”

Peter’s words struck Leo, sparking a cascade of thoughts. ‘Does this mean the God of Light is watching everyone individually? Or are there loopholes in this sacred book?’

Deciding to set these troubling thoughts aside for now, Leo bid Peter farewell and headed home. The walk was brisk, and by the time he arrived, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city. After a simple dinner, Leo retired to his room. He leaned back on his bed, readying himself for the upcoming meeting. His mind, however, lingered on Peter’s words, and the unsettling implications they carried.

…

In the northern kingdom, nestled within a sprawling mansion adorned with intricate stone carvings and towering spires, a soft knock echoed through the grand hallway.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in.”

The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a man dressed in a meticulously tailored black suit. He stepped inside, bowing deeply as he entered the room.

“My lord, a letter has arrived for you. The messenger insisted it was urgent.”

Count Errenor Daradia stood by the large, arched window, his gaze fixed on the snow-covered landscape outside. The faint glow of the moon cast long shadows across the room.

“Bring it here,” he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative, embodying the strength and resolve of a true leader.

The man walked over to the Count Errenor and handed him the letter with a bow. The count took the letter from him and, with an air of authority, opened it. His eyes moved quickly across the page as he read the contents. After a few minutes, a scowl darkened his features, and the letter in his hand crumbled into dust, disintegrating in an instant.

“You may go,” Errenor said curtly, his voice edged with irritation. “And remember, do not allow anyone into my room tonight.”

The man bowed deeply, his face showing no reaction to the count’s display of power. “As you wish, my lord,” he replied before retreating from the room, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.

As the room returned to silence, Count Errenor turned back to the window, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The moonlight illuminated his stern features, casting sharp shadows on his face. “Those useless bandits were good for nothing,” he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with disdain. “Luis, gather as much information as you can about this.”

From the corner of the room, a figure emerged from the shadows, his movements silent and swift. He bowed deeply before the count. “Yes, my lord,” he responded, his voice low and respectful. In the blink of an eye, he vanished back into the darkness, leaving no trace of his presence.

Count Errenor continued to stare out the window, his eyes deep and penetrating, as if they could pierce through the darkness and see everything that lay beyond.

…

In the Magic Kingdom, high atop a towering black spire that pierced the clouds, Archmage Aran sat in the deep shadows of his chamber.

“So, there was an attempt to steal a legendary item?”

The words echoed through the dimly lit room, his voice a low rasp that sent chills through the air. His skeletal hand clenched into a fist, the bones creaking with unnatural power. A dark green light began to pulse ominously from the hollow sockets of his skull, casting eerie reflections on the cold stone walls.

“What kind of idiot would send a group of bandits to steal such a valuable item?” Archmage Aran mused aloud before erupting into a sinister, echoing laugh that reverberated through the tower’s stone walls. His gaze then shifted to the shadowy figure lurking nearby.

“Nersa, make sure no one enters this room,” he commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

In the corner, a shapeless figure began to stir. Its form was fluid, like a mass of shifting slime. As it moved, it gradually merged with the stone floor, sinking into the ground until it disappeared entirely, leaving no trace of its presence.

Archmage Aran leaned back in his chair, his skeletal form cloaked in the shadows. His eyes, once burning with dark energy, grew vacant and hollow. It was as if his very essence had been drained, leaving him as lifeless and still as a corpse that had been entombed for centuries.