Chapter 17
After the brutal encounter with the Mud Lizards, Adem still felt his blood simmering beneath his skin. The tension hadn't faded,it pulsed through his veins like lingering fire. Even now, long after the battle had ended, the scent of danger clung to him. One mistake, one misstep, and he would've met his maker. A single strike to the head would've ended it all.
As his blood slowly cooled, questions began to stir within him.
Why did he start loving the fight? Why this hunger to grow stronger?
Was it fear? A need to feel safe? An obsession with power or maybe even immortality?
No… that wasn't it.
The thought gnawed at him for a while until the truth surfaced in a quiet moment of clarity.
Because it's fun, he admitted to himself.
'I don't have any grand ambitions. Fighting makes me feel alive, more than anything else I've ever done. It's all for the love of the game.' Adem thought as continued to move.
After all, those lizards weren't just mindless beasts. They were a colony of predators—organized, cunning, and relentless. Yet he had faced them head-on, alone. During the direwolf attack, he'd at least had other knights to watch his back. But this time, there was no one.
Still, he fought.
Logic screamed at him to flee, but instinct urged him forward. Against reason, he found joy in testing his limits, in pushing himself until the edge between life and death blurred. It wasn't madness, not entirely. He wasn't suicidal. He wouldn't throw himself into a battle he couldn't possibly win.
No, Adem preferred reasonable risks, the kind that made his heart pound, his muscles burn, and his mind sharpen until every second felt stretched into eternity.
For him, that was enough.
Then came the perfect coincidence , as the number of lizards he killed matched the mission quota.
Fifteen of them—the exact number listed in his mission.
That wasn't a coincidence. Combined with the familiar energy he felt in the sky—brief yet heavy, like a boulder and a feather at once—it all lined up too perfectly.
Adem's expression tensed slightly. There was only one person who had such an energy signature, one Magus. Professor Margot. She might act strict sometimes, but she had a good heart—or at least that's what Adem saw. She always guided and protected him. Unlike other professors who had an equal exchange relationship with their students, theirs was more like a mother-and-son bond.
The means of a Magus were not to be trifled with, and he knew better than to question her methods. For all her calm smiles, she played her games on a level far above most.
As he walked through the academy's marble corridors, several acolytes glanced his way, curious about what had brought the infamous introverted genius out of seclusion. It was rare to see him unless they attended his lessons.
Adem ignored them, his stride steady. His clothes bore claw marks and singed edges, silent proof of the fight, but his body was immaculate, his skin clean. He had taken the time to wash himself in the stream before returning; he couldn't stand the grime of battle. Blood and filth had their place on the battlefield, not on his person.
Still, it would've been nice to have divine protection like a certain individual—someone absurdly favored by overly generous deities. The amount of divine protection he had was almost uncountable. Life just wasn't fair that way.
He dismissed the thought before it became a distraction and arrived at the Mission Center.
"Yo," he greeted casually as he stepped inside, his tone light. "Just finished the mission. Here to hand in proof."
Adem wasn't cold or arrogant despite how reserved he was. He simply didn't enjoy wasting words. Most mistook his quiet for disinterest, but he was simply conserving energy—his social battery, as he called it. He got along fine with most people, had few enemies, and preferred to avoid unnecessary drama.
"It's you, Adem," said a familiar voice.
Behind the counter stood a blond youth in his twenties—sharp-eyed, confident, wearing the academy's gray uniform. He wasn't the same clerk who had processed Adem's previous mission. This one was a senior acolyte, and more importantly, one of Adem's regular clients.
Adem offered a faint smile.
He had earned a bit of influence within the Wetland Gardens among acolytes. Some wanted to be his lackeys, but he had turned them down—the youth behind the counter being one of them. Adem controlled the trade of alchemic products, and the basic lessons he taught gave him some influence and a bit of power. To some, he was the uncrowned kingpin of the Gardens. Yet all of that meant little in the grand scheme of things. Against a true Magus, all his networks would vanish with a single spell. For now, the magi had left him alone due to who his mentor was. No one wanted to cross her.
He approached the counter and placed a small black pouch upon it. The material shimmered faintly—a reinforced leather crafted for storing organic components.
"I've got fifteen gall bladders from Mud Lizards," Adem said simply. "That should be enough to confirm completion, right?"
The senior acolyte blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Fifteen? That fast?" He unsealed the pouch, carefully inspecting the contents. The faint, acrid scent of preserved essence filled the air. "Wait a moment while I find the reward listing…"
He rifled through the crystal terminal's records and then looked up with a wry smile. "Here it is—a Rank 0 Ice Spear spell matrix. Quite the generous reward, don't you think?"
It might seem like an overpriced mission, but normally it took a group of acolytes to take down the Mud Lizards—sometimes even a Rank 3 acolyte to handle them alone.
There was envy in his tone—subtle, but unmistakable. He too wanted to be as talented as Adem, who had reached his level in just a few months, while he himself had taken an entire year to reach Rank 2.
Adem shrugged. "Generous, yeah. I expected something smaller—maybe a few magic crystals or a potion."
The youth snorted softly. "You're always lucky with these assignments. Not all of us are as talented as you, sir."
Before Adem could reply, a faint prickle spread along the back of his neck. Every instinct screamed danger—though not the hostile kind. It was sharp, refined, unmistakable.
A translucent figure shimmered into being behind him, her presence calm and steady.
Adem turned instantly, his body reacting before thought. "Professor… Margot?"
The image of the woman floated before him, elegant and faintly luminous—a spiritual projection. Her pale eyes met his own.
"Yes," she said softly. "This is nothing but a new spell model I'm working on. You outdid yourself in that fight, Adem. Remember, those lizards barely qualify as magic beasts—they didn't even have innate spells. I'll take you with me the next time I hunt a true magic beast."
He relaxed slightly. He indeed had a lot to fix in his combat capabilities.
Margot's gaze drifted over the counter, then back to him. "You've surprised me. To not only complete a mission requiring a full team of level three acolytes, but to do so alone… I expected you to need assistance. It seems your growth is ahead of schedule."
"I adapt quickly," Adem replied evenly.
Her lips quivered faintly—the ghost of a smile. "Indeed. But power alone does not define a Magus. You possess a unique path, and your understanding of the Fireball spell has clearly evolved beyond its basic form. Remember this: a spell matrix is merely a foundation. Two magi of equal rank may wield the same spell, yet one will devastate armies while the other can barely scorch grass."
Her voice deepened slightly, like a ripple in the air.
"What determines victory between equals isn't rank," she continued, "but control, imagination, creativity, and adaptability. Without these, you're merely a conduit for borrowed power."
Adem bowed his head lightly, acknowledging the truth of her words. The blond acolyte looked on in silence, clearly awed by the interaction but wise enough not to speak.
The projection began to fade, light scattering like mist under sunlight.
"Continue refining your control, Adem," Margot's fading voice echoed. "And remember—what you fight outside is never as dangerous as what stirs within."
Then she was gone.
Adem stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty air where she had been. A faint smile crept across his face—sharp and almost feral.
Control, imagination, adaptability.
He began to quietly collect the crystal matrix from the counter and slip it into his cloak.
If Margot wanted him to improve his control … she might not like what that truly meant.
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I've been struck on the creation of this chapter for a while . Did so many drafts yet none were satisfying even this one.
Do tell me the inconsistencies and ways to improve.
This probably the worst chapter yet .
Just give construction criticism not useless ones.
If you enjoyed it you can leave your powerstones here.