A man under a dark cloak stepped out from the shadows.
"Are you the healer from the Veiled Circle of Seers?" asked the other cloaked figure. It was none other than Adlan, Lady Mirena's cousin.
"Yes, I am," replied the hunched man carrying a healer's satchel. His voice was raspy, like dry leaves rubbing together. "But it's rude to call us the Veiled Circle. Our sect has a proper name—The Third Eye Sect. You ask for my help, yet insult my order. Your righteousness is quite amusing, isn't it?" he mocked.
"I… mm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that," Adlan replied apologetically.
"Spare me the chatter. Who's the boy you were ranting about? The one who supposedly uses black magic?"
"It's Logan. My cousin's stepson—one of House Smith's heirs," said Adlan, venom in his tone.
"Where is he now?"
"I saw him going to the woods. He frequently goes there to train."
"Training? Why does he need to go to the woods to practice black magic? Can't anyone practice magic in their room?" the healer mused to himself.
"Whatever. I'll see for myself what that little prick is up to." Saying this, the healer began striding toward the woods with long, eager steps.
Adlan followed. He wanted to see firsthand what sort of fate awaited Logan.
In the Woods…
Logan sat on a flat rock beneath a bare tree, surrounded by the ghostly hush of winter. His eyes were closed. A faint mist of breath curled from his lips as he meditated, shirtless again despite the cold.
Qi flowed calmly through his meridians—not in explosive bursts, but like an invisible tide—measured, endless. Even here, the world around him felt heavy, like something unnatural stirred beneath the surface of the forest floor.
The hunched healer, whose actual name was Zereth, was already close to where Logan sat. But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. He hid behind a large tree to avoid alerting Logan. His curiosity was piqued to find out what Logan was actually doing, sitting in a cross-legged position.
Adlan also joined him. They started observing Logan from a safe distance.
They were watching eagerly. But Logan had already noticed them. After battling in hundreds of wars, his perception was like a hawk's—sharp, unblinking, and deadly accurate. But he didn't expose them. He waited for their move.
How can this be? Zereth raised an eyebrow in alarm. There is no mana circulation in his body. But still, he's radiating a huge pressure around him.
"It sure is black magic, right?" asked Adlan in anticipation. If Logan was confirmed to be using black magic, then his fate would be sealed. No matter how talented he was, no one could save him.
"No. It's no magic at all."
"No? Are you sure?"
"I am a hundred percent sure. Whatever he is practicing is totally new and exceptional. The pressure emanating from his body is enough to suffocate someone. No magic user is capable of that. Even a sixth-tier magician can't pull something like this off."
"Then what should we do?"
"We should get rid of him. He is dangerous."
Zereth and Adlan whispered between themselves in low voices. They came to a decision.
Zereth came out of hiding and walked toward Logan.
Logan also felt his approach.
Finally, Logan opened his eyes and looked toward the unwelcome guest.
"So you're the little prodigy causing all this mess," sneered Zereth. "You don't look like much."
Though he said that, he was cautious of Logan. He couldn't treat Logan as a mere child. Before coming here, he was confident it would be an easy task. But now, the situation was totally different from what he had predicted. Still, it was just a bit of caution—not fear. He still thought he was in control of the whole situation.
Logan didn't respond. His eyes, calm and unreadable, studied the man's aura.
It was black. Not the kind born from darkness, but from rot. His Qi pulsed in corrupted spirals—twisted, broken, malevolent.
"I see you have some unique training method. If you hand it over, I'll let you live. If not, then…" Zereth didn't finish his sentence. But the meaning was already clear.
"You'll let me live?" Logan said with amusement.
Logan had planned to hide his strength. That's why he had never exhibited it fully until now. But hiding everything was also a problem. People would try to have fun with you. They would treat you like a toy. That's why Logan showed a glimpse of his power during the duel with Darius—in hopes that it would put everything to rest. But maybe it had actually backfired. Now, some unknown clown was already standing before him, thinking he had the whole situation wrapped around his finger.
"Did I say something funny? How dare you laugh and act so casually in front of me?"
"Old man. Stop talking. If you want my training method, why don't you make me?" Logan said with a confident tone.
Adlan's eyebrows furrowed. Is that kid stupid? The duel with Darius has gone to his head. He thinks he's some one-man army guy. What a moron, Adlan thought to himself.
Logan's attitude completely flared up Zereth. He was seething with rage.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
With that he got into action.
With a flick of his wrist, he cast a black sigil into the air. It cracked like lightning as skeletal tendrils burst forth, lashing at Logan like serpents.
Logan's body blurred.
He shifted sideways, almost too fast for the eye to follow, and deflected the tendrils with a precise palm strike that shattered one into ash.
The ground cracked beneath his feet.
"No mana?" Zereth confirmed his suspicions, still shocked. "How did you move like that? It sure wasn't mana. What technique is that?"
"I don't need mana to break your bones," Logan replied coldly.
Zereth snarled and raised both hands. "Don't be so arrogant, kid. You are strong, I'll give you that. But I've conquered many like you." The air darkened, heavy with a suffocating pressure. Shadows pooled beneath him, forming a grotesque figure with a horned face and multiple arms—his spirit guardian, fueled by black mana.
"You think your brute strength will save you?" the healer shouted. "Let's see you fight this!"
The spirit lunged.
Logan stood still.
Then he moved.
A single step—Boom—cratered the ground as he vanished.
He appeared behind the healer like a phantom. With a palm glowing faintly from internal energy, he struck the man's back.
Crack!
The healer staggered forward, coughing blood. The spirit behind him shrieked and dissolved.
"Impossible!" he gasped, spinning with a dagger glowing with cursed runes. "You… you're not a child. What are you?!"
"I'm someone you shouldn't have followed," said Logan.
He ducked the cursed dagger and grabbed Zereth's wrist. With a twist, he dislocated it, causing the man to scream.
Then came a punch—slamming squarely into his chest, sending him flying.
Zereth flew backward, smashing through a tree trunk and landing on his back, unconscious—bones clearly broken.
Adlan, trembling, stumbled backward. His mouth agape.
"He's a monster," he whispered.
Adlan turned and ran, tripping once in the snow before disappearing into the trees. He didn't dare alert Logan about his presence.
Logan looked down at the broken body of the black magic healer. Then he raised his hand to deliver the final blow but just then…..
Zereth's fingers twitched as blood dripped from his lips. From his robe, he pulled a tiny obsidian orb.
"Not yet," he rasped, slamming it into the ground.
Boom! A deafening hiss as black smoke exploded outward, swallowing the forest in darkness.
Logan tried to find him but couldn't. By the time the smoke vanished, Zereth was gone.
"Damn it! That clever bas***d had a trick up his sleeve."
Logan didn't want to leave any trail behind but failed.
"I hope they take a lesson from it and don't do anything stupid next time." He murmured.
But a tension grew in his heart. It was subtle but there. Someone had seen his abilities. And they may come back looking for more trouble again. And there was Adlan as well. Logan could clearly feel his presence as well.