Zatiel moved methodically through the corpses of the fallen apprentices, his sharp eyes scanning for anything of value. The faint, metallic scent of blood still hung in the air, mixing with the earthy musk of the Endless Forest. His hands were quick but deliberate, checking belts, pouches, and pockets with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before.
He found plenty of magical equipment—rings that hummed faintly with dormant energy, trinkets inscribed with weak runes, amulets meant to bolster minor spells. Most of it held little personal use for him, but in the Tower's markets, they could be exchanged for magic crystals. That alone made them worth keeping. Without hesitation, he took it all, slipping the pieces into his robe.
Two items, however, caught his attention.
The first was clutched in the stiff fingers of Martin. Zatiel pried it free and examined it—a small, perfectly smooth black orb. Its surface absorbed light, as if it were swallowing the moon's glow.
"So this was what they used to hide from me…" Zatiel murmured, turning it over in his palm. "A device that cloaks every signal of a living body. Useful. Very useful."
He slipped it away carefully, already considering the ways it could be used in future hunts.
The second find was far more intriguing. On Arthur's body, tucked away in an inner pocket, Zatiel discovered a small, unassuming sack. It was made from a coarse, dark fabric that looked plain to the untrained eye—but Zatiel recognized it instantly.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "A Spatial Sack… how could a mere Pseudo-Magus get his hands on this?"
Spatial Sacks were rare, highly coveted artifacts—capable of storing large quantities of items in a private pocket of space. For magi, they were invaluable, not only for combat and expeditions but for daily convenience. Possessing one made a person infinitely more versatile.
"Ah… this will make my life easier," he sighed, though his tone carried a note of caution. "It will also make things… more troublesome than I'd like."
Artifacts linked to space were notoriously difficult to obtain. The cost alone was astronomical, but beyond that, such items were almost always reserved for official Magi. For Arthur—a pseudo-Magus—to have one suggested either powerful connections or hidden backers.
Still, Zatiel wasn't shaken. "What's done is done. A Rank 1 Magus isn't something I can't handle. Once I show my skill in rune crafting, I'll have allies in the Tower willing to support me."
Annoyed but not worried, he weighed his options. The black orb could be used without issue—few, if any, would recognize it on sight. But the Spatial Sack was different. Carrying it openly would be like parading the corpse of Arthur through the Tower gates.
He knew it was impossible to hide the fact that he had killed Arthur—too many had seen the red-haired pseudo-Magus tailing him into the forest. But letting people speculate was far safer than brandishing proof.
With that in mind, Zatiel altered the sack's appearance, disguising the fabric's weave and dulling its faint magical signature. Once the modifications were complete, he stored all the gathered loot inside and concealed it beneath his robe.
Finished, he turned his gaze back toward the dark entrance of the rat men's cave.
"Before, I only took as many hearts as I could carry. Now…" He allowed himself a thin smile. "Now I can harvest much more—and gather other materials for my runes while I'm at it."
Without another glance at the bodies of the apprentices, he strode into the shadows. The forest's scavengers would handle them soon enough, stripping away any trace of their existence.
The caves erupted with screams for the next seven days. The shrill cries of rat men mixed with the wet, meaty sounds of slaughter, echoing endlessly through the twisting tunnels. Blood slicked the stone walls, and the earth drank so much of it that the soil itself seemed dyed red.
Where once hundreds of the creatures scurried in swarms, only corpses remained—piled high in grotesque mounds.
Zatiel sat atop one such pile, tearing into the raw heart of a slain rat man. To most, the stench and sight would be nauseating. To him, it was nothing. Even though these creatures offered only a meager boost to his Abyss Aura, the sheer number he had consumed over the week had strengthened him considerably.
When the last morsel was gone, he rose, brushing the gore from his hands. "It's about time. Little EZ should be wrapping up his mission by now. I wonder how it went."
Activating his Shadow Form, Zatiel melted into the darkness and began the journey toward their rendezvous point.
Five days later, he arrived. The trip had taken nearly as long as his approach to the caves—not because of any threat, but because he'd stopped often to gather rare plants, minerals, and other crafting materials.
When he reached the clearing, he spotted Ezequiel waiting. The young man's lean frame was almost comically overshadowed by the two massive bags strapped to his back, both bulging with… something.
Ezequiel spotted him instantly and broke into a run. The overloaded bags swung wildly with each step.
Zatiel couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing warmly through the clearing. "Hahaha! You brat… when I told you to bring me plenty of brains and claws, I didn't mean for you to wipe out the entire tribe!"
Ezequiel gave a faint smile but said nothing in defense.
"Well," Zatiel continued, "you did well regardless. Now—tell me—did you deal with those apprentices who were following you?"
"Yes, Master," Ezequiel replied, his voice steady. "All three are dead."
He then launched into a detailed recounting of the fight—how he'd lured them into traps, exploited their weaknesses, and finished each one.
"Good," Zatiel said when he was done. "Very good. Now, let's get back to the Tower. I want to start rune crafting immediately." He extended a hand toward the enormous bags. "Oh, and give me those."
Ezequiel obeyed, hefting the heavy loads forward. The moment Zatiel touched them, they vanished—slipped into the hidden space of the altered sack.
If Ezequiel was surprised, he didn't show it. He'd seen too many strange things from his master to be startled anymore.
"Let's move," Zatiel ordered.
In the next instant, lightning and shadow intertwined, and the two figures vanished into the forest, racing toward the distant spires of the Magic Tower.