Those three terrifying adults suddenly burst into the house and killed the boys' parents and eldest brother in the most horrifying ways imaginable.
No matter how the victims begged, the murderers' expressions stayed calm—like they weren't killing people, just slaughtering livestock.
"This energy should last us a while. I love this feeling!" One of the dark mages closed his eyes, a hint of satisfaction on his face.
"Two more—give them here." The dark mage holding a teenage boy tossed the corpse aside, licked his lips, and said it in a chilling tone.
As that twig‑thin hand reached for them, the two boys were paralyzed with fear; they'd already wet themselves.
The dried‑out hand gripped their young necks hard, sucking the last traces of life from them.
The boys felt weaker by the second, miserable beyond words.
The dark mage had just begun to enjoy himself when the other two suddenly shouted, "Knights are coming!"
Cursing under his breath, the mage squeezing the boys tightened his fingers and strangled the two little lives to death on the spot.
Then all three tore out of the room and vanished.
Minutes later, a group of fully armored knights ran past the window. Only a few pushed the door open, took a quick look at the corpses inside, then backed out.
Once the commotion outside died down, nobody bothered with the place.
Proper knights were nobles, after all—they wouldn't touch the dirty corpses of commoners.
If any of those knights who peeked inside later remembered, maybe they'd send someone who handled the dead…
…
Glen looked around at the lush greenery, with plants taller than a person crowding the base of the trees, and asked skeptically, "This is the destination?"
The old man was studying something on the ground, giving a vague reply. "Probably."
"Alright, but three silver coins ain't gonna cut it," Glen said flatly.
"Five silver coins," the old man said, standing up, tone unconcerned.
"You really are loaded," Glen teased.
The old man didn't respond; he just tossed Glen a small bottle. "Rub this on you—it'll mask your scent."
Glen caught it; the bottle was cold to the touch, material unknown. Popping the cork, a herbal smell hit his nose, clearing his head.
Without asking what it was, he smeared the ointment over himself.
"Follow me," the old man said, leading into the dense foliage.
Glen activated his werewolf trait, coating his skin in a fine layer of fur, and followed.
Visibility in the thick vegetation was less than an arm's length, yet the old man seemed to see right through it, guiding Glen without a hitch.
Half an hour later, the view suddenly opened up.
A clearing appeared ahead. The old man raised a hand for a halt; Glen stopped too.
"There's a magic trap," the old man said quietly.
"How'd you know?" Glen scanned the area but saw no obvious signs—yet it felt wrong, unnaturally quiet.
The old man's gaze was sharp; he now held a small pouch, took out something, crouched, and crawled on all fours like a lizard.
Glen thought, The guy's still got it—at his age, that's a serious arm and chest workout.
"Step exactly where I step. Keep up."
Glen followed, placing his feet in the old man's tracks.
The old man occasionally sprinkled a powder around them before moving on.
When they reached the center of the clearing, the old man stood up. Glen finally asked, "How'd you spot the magic trap? And what was that powder?"
"The terrain here looks normal, but it's deliberate. Look closely and you'll see the plants and pools form a pattern—a kind of rune, a very advanced magic circle. Few notice, 'cause there's no sign of human or animal activity."
He packed his stuff away and explained.
"And the powder?"
"Just a little aid to help locate trigger points. Most folks can't learn it—it takes loads of experience."
Sounds impressive… Glen gave a nod, then asked, "How do you know so much?"
The old man glanced at him, tone still flat. "I used to be a Doctor of Magicology at Southridlon University in the Zern Kingdom."
Glen: "!!!"
If he remembered right, Southridlon was the top school in the Zern Kingdom—and this old man was a Ph.D. there?
"So you can—?"
"I'm not a mage, so I can't use magic," the old man cut in.
A magic doctor who can't do magic? Glen's eyes widened in confusion.
"Anyone can study magicology, but not everyone can be a mage," the old man said, pulling out his hunting rifle. "Mastering magicology means you can serve mages. Guys like me are fought over even by legendary mages—brewing potions, calculating array circuits, working out chant sequences, and so on."
So basically a super assistant, Glen summed up, then asked, "Aside from the huge cost, is there another barrier to becoming a mage?"
"Sure." The old man nodded. "You need over 60% elemental affinity. Below that, learning magic's just a waste of time."
Glen nodded thoughtfully.
"Alright, we've been spotted. Let's deal with the trouble first," the old man said, raising his rifle.
Glen wasn't surprised—he'd already heard rapid footsteps in the distance. He looked toward the sound.
Five figures in black robes charged out, faces hideous, heading straight for the pair.
Their hands had scythe‑like claws, black vapor coiling around them.
The lead attacker lashed out with a claw, tearing through the air in a shriek aimed at the old man.
Unfazed, the old man kept the rifle steady and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The bullet hit the attacker square in the forehead. His charge halted, and he fell backward, rolling several times before stopping.
The other four surged forward together. Glen was about to jump in, but then the old man yanked open his shirt, revealing… a black hole in his chest!
Under Glen's widened gaze, the hole erupted with countless black tendrils, instantly shredding the four attackers to pieces.
The tendrils retracted at once, and the old man suddenly clutched his chest, collapsing to the ground in agony. Cold sweat soaked his face, veins bulging—clearly in unbearable pain.
"You could've let me handle it. Why go through that?" Glen stared at him, totally confused.
That power obviously came at a cost. It wasn't something to use lightly—and these were just minor thugs. No need for that kind of suffering.