《Paul the anti-mage》


 Chapter 1 - Boring intro, ready for a deal?

    It¡¯s New Year¡¯s Eve. Another year is about to pass, and a new one filled with happiness and fortune is about to begin, well, for some, at least.


    ¡°Dammit, it''s so cold,¡± Paul muttered, shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself. He took a quick look at the cracked thermostat on the wall and shook his head as he stared at the pile of bills sitting on the counter, some stamped as paid, others still looming over him. Heat, he thought, wasn¡¯t a priority, electricity kept his meager amount of food from spoiling, and that was all that mattered.


    ¡®Electricity¡¯s more important anyway,¡¯ he thought, pacing his tiny, windowless, one-room flat. It wasn¡¯t all too bad. He had a kitchen, a hallway, and even a bathroom with a shower, no less, though warm water would have been nice. Still, for someone in the poor district, it wasn¡¯t the worst. Not that the middle or upper district folks would call it livable. The nobles? They¡¯d laugh until their chest hurt.


    That¡¯s just how life was for the manaless. No magic, no gods, no opportunities. Who would even want such a person? He could not follow a serious career with little to no mana and could not be part of any church without a birth blessing. Only the lowly positions could fit him.


    And a lowly position it was, working during the day at a facility for ten hours. Paul was unsure what exactly the facility produced or what its purpose was. They never told him, and he never asked. He only knew he needed to operate the heavy machinery, break his back carrying stuff, mop the floors, and other jobs. It was far cheaper to employ a human for peanuts than pay for golems. Keep your head down, work hard, that was the survival mantra. And during the night, for another four hours, he worked as a cashier. For the rest of his day, he would just train and read the books left by his family.


    Paul never really knew what his family was up to. They were just as poor, but with a slightly better and larger apartment to accommodate everyone: his mother, father, older brother, and grandfather. From what he knew, they worked ordinary jobs, but that never really clicked. While Paul went to get his basic education, his father and grandfather always trained him in his free time for some reason. At first, it was just running, lifting weights, and doing various exercises, increasing his strength, stamina, reflexes, dexterity, and whatever else he could train.


    On the bookshelf, a picture of his family, five streaks of lines etched into the wood, and next to it, a small red candle. Inside the bookshelf was an ungodly amount of books: magic, gods, recipes, training, notes, diaries. Of course, Paul could guess his family¡¯s background wasn¡¯t so simple, and perhaps he was just too young back then to let him know.


    On the ground next to the bookshelf, a bright pillow, blue as lilies. It was long dry at this point, but there were markings where some liquid used to fall often, though the source of the liquid had been long dry by this point.


    Now, at the ripe age of nineteen, he had read and trained in everything, memorizing and perfecting it by heart. Realistically, he realized his own value. He could become a valued guard or a soldier in the military. But it didn¡¯t sit right with him to become the underdog of someone else using the legacy of his family. He may not have much right now, but at least he was in control. Though work was hard and tiring, everything felt fulfilling, and he was proud of himself.


    The clock now read 2300, just a little time left until the new year. It was time for him to go out. Though he didn¡¯t have friends to celebrate with, he wanted to walk around, take in the not-so-fresh air, and maybe visit the cemetery and light some candles so the goodness of death could light up the path for the deceased on the other side. The night was young, and the year was going to be a long one.


    He started to get dressed: a simple pair of jeans, a worn-out pair of boots, an unironed white shirt, and a cheap winter jacket. And a mask. Everyone from the Garden District, the poor folks, needed to wear a mask. It was like a token of poverty, so everyone knew about your origins. More like a token of shame. You could be severely punished for going out without a mask. Only those from the Amber Quarter, the so-called middle district, and above could avoid the shame of wearing the mask.


    It was a carnival mask, quartz white in color, with golden painted streaks, a wide smile, a jade lion on the forehead, and five appendices of material sprouting from the top, all having a small plastic pearl. The first four had a bell connected to the pearl, but the fifth bell was missing.


    This mask was worn by his grandfather, father, and brother when they were young, and then it was passed down to Paul. It was said that the mask had been passed down for generations. It did look a bit used, but you could fool someone into thinking it was brand new.


    He put a small pendant around his neck. The chain was made out of severely low-quality gold, and it had a wooden cross. This was a gift from his mother at birth. She said it was an artifact that could save his life. The method of activation was a bit weird, and he never believed her. An artifact of that magnitude could have raised them to the Amber Quarter temporarily just by selling it. Nonetheless, it may have been worthless, but it was a gift from his mother, and he treated it as a lucky rabbit¡¯s foot.


    After walking down fifteen flights of stairs, Paul was finally outside. The Garden District was sprawled with tall buildings all around. The designated area for the poor district was rather small so as not to take precious space from the good, productive people of society, so each city¡¯s Garden District was tightly packed with buildings 20 to 35 floors high, with each floor filled with an unbelievably large number of flats, ranging from extremely small to decently small. You had to make do with what you¡¯re given.


    There were no trees or any kind of greenery, really. Only tall buildings, streetlights, concrete roads, and a bunch of little narrow streets in between buildings that you could use to get to your destination faster, as long as you knew your way. Otherwise, you¡¯d be entering a maze. And as long as you didn¡¯t mind the pickpockets and bandits, though they may have only used rusty knives, used syringes, or just bare hands, it wasn¡¯t a problem for Paul.


    It had been about half an hour, and Paul was just walking around the streets, taking in the unpleasant cold air. The scenery was grim and uninviting, but to Paul, it was nothing but home.


    The Garden District was pretty much empty at this time. Some were at home, drinking and trying to forget their sorrows. Some went out to festivals, and others saved a little more money to visit the Amber Quarter. The streets were quiet.


    Not that much could happen. The buildings and the roads in the Garden District had special stones hidden inside them that would strengthen the buildings against magic and spells. This was another reason why this district was so packed. These devices were not easy or cheap to make, but they prevented most mana-related disruptions. Not that most people could even use mana in this place anyway, but there were other reasons for this fortification.


    That¡¯s why, when Paul heard some strange noises coming from deeper inside the twisted paths, he got curious. The noise was strangely muffled. You couldn¡¯t hear much of it, but it was there, especially to a trained ear. It was also as if you could strangely feel it. The air was thick with danger, yet Paul felt a thrill at the prospect of risk.


    As he got closer, though, there was another sensation. A reverberation resonated inside the jade lion of the mask. It was a strange feeling he hadn¡¯t experienced before. It felt like a shock, an impact. This sensation, combined with his knowledge, allowed him to quickly come to a conclusion.


    ¡®Magic!¡¯ The power of mana and its properties could be felt by the jade. This only reinforced the theories he had about his family. It was his first time getting a chance to take a quick look. Even if he got spotted, he was confident he could get away. An occasion like this didn¡¯t come often in the Garden District.


    He swiftly maneuvered through the labyrinthine paths. Initially, the source of the sensation seemed to move, but now it appeared to have settled in one place.


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    He crept closer, the walls closing in around him, the source of the sensation just beyond the next turn. He had to be careful because of the bells. As he approached, he checked his pockets. He had always been told to be prepared. Nothing much, just some needles laced with albajar oil, two small throwing knives, and a pair of brass knuckles.


    He took out the brass knuckles and placed them on his right hand. He was sticking to the left wall. He knew the path, the only way to go was a left turn, and the sensation felt like it was coming from right around the corner. The jade was vibrating more and more, to the point it might even ring the bells on his mask.


    Arriving at the corner, there it was. A wall!


    ¡®A wall?¡¯ Paul simply knew this couldn¡¯t before knew the path like the back of his hand. There must be some trickery happening here. ¡®An illusion,¡¯ some sort of magic that prevented prying eyes, probably why there was no noise heard until now.


    Touching the ¡®wall¡¯ confirmed his suspicion. It was nothing but air, certainly nothing solid. All he could do now was poke his head through and take a peek.


    Beyond the imaginary a young man and a young woman lay on the ground. Their faces were covered in dirt and scratches; their clothes were torn and stained. The man¡¯s left leg bled through a ragged tear in his pants, and the woman¡¯s nose bled, ¡®looks like mana abuse,¡¯ Taught Paul. Despite their battered state, they held onto each other, their bodies trembling from exhaustion and the cold.


    A few steps away, a man in a clean four-piece suit stood with a menacing air. His neatly combed black hair, tall stature, and perfectly twirled mustache gave him an unsettling calm. One hand rested behind his back, his other idly gesturing as magical energy swirled faintly around him. He grinned as he noticed Paul, as if welcoming him.


    Paul didn¡¯t even hesitate, and with a burst of speed, he dashed toward the magician, using the narrow walls to propel himself forward. The suited man¡¯s grin widened as he raised two fingers to his lips. His pupils turned white as chalk as wind crackled to life around him.


    A loud roar echoed as razor-sharp wind blades erupted toward Paul, slicing through the confined airspace. Paul twisted his body, narrowly dodging the barrage as he planted a foot against the wall for leverage. He hurled himself forward again, drawing a single knife from his pockets, one of the few weapons he had on him.


    The magician¡¯s expression flickered with mild surprise as Paul closed the distance. Paul hurled both knives in a precise, intersecting trajectory designed to cover the narrow alleyway. The magician dodged the first knife with a quick step to the side, but the second knife forced his hand.


    Muttering something under his breath, and flicking his hand in an upwards motion, keeping his back straight, in an elegant manner, he conjured a wall of wind, thick and fast enough to deflect the blade.


    However, Paul hadn¡¯t shown his full speed before and managed to instantly surprise and catch up to the man, whose vision was now obstructed.


    The momentary defense gave Paul the opening he needed. He surged forward, a right punch with his full power followed, his fist driving toward the magician¡¯s face.


    But, at the last second, the suited man sidestepped, avoiding the full force of the blow, unlucky for him Paul followed up with a another quick jab to keep him off balance.


    In the moment the enemy was staggered, Paul¡¯s other hand revealed a small set of needles coated with albajar oil, a rare toxin effective even against advanced mages, its recipe known by few. With practiced precision, he threw them toward the magician. The confined space left little room to maneuver, and while some needles missed or grazed his suit, a few embedded themselves into the man¡¯s side.


    The fiend hurt and confused, one hand clutched his abdomen as he glared at Paul. His pristine suit was stained with blood, and his confidence faltered. Paul used the opportunity to deliver a kick to the man¡¯s abdomen, driving the needles further, and forcing him back several steps but failing to knock him down completely.


    Paul quickly retreated a few steps back toward the injured pair, never turning his back on the magician. With a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, he could easily tell. They were clearly in no condition to move, let alone run.


    The suited man straightened slowly, holding his abdomen as his purple blood and the coating on the needles draped on his hands. He examined them briefly before saying, ¡°Albajar oil,¡± he talked with disdain as the mana holders in his purple blood cells started to break down. ¡°It¡¯s so rare I haven¡¯t had the pleasure to experience it myself.¡± His grin returned, but his steps were less certain as he tried advanced.


    Paul didn¡¯t respond, and instead he straightened his back and quickly put his left hand in front of the two. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure why he chose to protect them. It just felt like something his family would do, and what he trained for. And It also was the thrill of the fight. It felt like instinct to jump in, exhilaration and excitement surging through him. He was reminded of his days with his father and brother. But the man in front of him was simply far less skilled. Slower, weaker, predictable.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be able to use any of precious magic, at least for now,¡± Paul kept his pristine stance, keeping the illusion that he was the one in control. In reality though, he didn¡¯t have anything else hidden on him. It would be best to finish things here, ¡°How about I take these two to a safe place, and you get to leave with your teeth intact, hmm?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must bring those two with me, alive, but I don¡¯t mind digging your grave while I¡¯m at it,¡±


    ¡°Run away, mister, this man killed our guards,¡± the girl¡¯s voice trembled.


    ¡®Guards? They must be someone important¡­¡¯ though Paul, ¡®Though they might¡¯ve either been trash or they got ambushed¡¯


    The other twin, defiant despite their condition, spoke up. ¡°We can protect ourselves. Go!¡±


    ¡°Can you now? Somehow, I can¡¯t seem to trust that,¡± Paul couldn¡¯t help but jest.


    ¡°We¡¯re serious!¡± said the young man, ¡°He¡¯s a high-ranking member of the Church of Curses,¡± continued his sister


    Paul was ready to crack another joke. But as he opened his lips, he could only mutter, ¡°Ah¡­¡± The corner of Paul¡¯s lip quivered as he fully comprehended the words of the young girl.


    ¡®We¡¯re completely fucked,¡¯ his mind raced as he quickly jumped into action, and he made a pitiful attempt to grab the twins by their clothes and drag them away if needed.


    But before he could even take a few steps, a sharp, grotesque, sickening crack filled the air. The sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking followed, raw and wet. A low groan followed after, making the air feel colder, heavier.


    And not only the air felt heavier, so did his body. Paul¡¯s legs felt like they simply disappeared. He dropped to the ground like a log. The twins fell in the same manner, like dropped weights.


    Every muscle in his body was either fully paralyzed or weakened to the point of uselessness. His chest felt like it was being squished between two rocks as he desperately tried to swallow every bit of air he could manage to get. Though his arms were somewhat spared, they were too weak to lift himself back up but just enough to cushion his impact.


    The twins were in a similar situation, struggling on the ground as they clutched their chests. They were trying to reach for something inside their clothes. Perhaps they had something to help, but their movements were sluggish. The girl clung to her phone, her grip white-knuckled. Though he doubted it would do much, it was easy to disturb the phone signal.


    Paul couldn¡¯t hope for external help. He had to think of something fast.


    The man¡¯s rasping voice cut through their futile struggle. He leaned against the wall, his lifeless left arm dangling, two fingers barely hanging by threads of flesh, dripping purple blood. In his right hand, he toyed with one of Paul¡¯s throwing knives, dragging its blade lazily against the wall, the sound out of metal against the cold stone sent shivers down Paul¡¯s back.


    ¡°To think I¡¯d have to use my authority,¡± the mage sneered, his voice a mix of labored breathing and disdain. ¡°I sacrificed my whole arm in the end to bind you lot.,¡± He coughed wetly, his lips growing from one ear to another on his chalk-like face. ¡°I hope you won¡¯t dream of a painless death. I¡¯ll have my fun with you before I take those two with me.¡±


    ¡°Empty threats, big man,¡± his voice cracking as he forced the words out. ¡°Keep using that authority, and losing an arm will be the least of your problems,¡± he said, with shaking fingers, as he reached for the necklace around his neck. He tied the fake golden chain around the wooden cross.


    The mage¡¯s laughter rang hollow at the sight of Paul¡¯s necklace, though his amusement barely masked the irritation from Paul¡¯s remark. ¡°And what¡¯s that supposed to do? That powerless toy of yours can¡¯t save you.¡±


    Paul ignored him. He focused entirely on threading the cross through the narrow space under his mask, to his mouth. His fingers fumbled more than once, and his breath quickened as he heard the mage¡¯s uneven footsteps getting closer. Each scrape of the knife against the wall felt louder, sharper.


    Finally, Paul wedged the cross into place between two molars. He bit down hard, the rough wood and cold chain pressing against his teeth. ¡®Mom, you better not have lied to me,¡¯ he thought desperately, closing his eyes. A miracle was his only way of surviving. He bit again, harder, his jaw trembling from the strain.


    The mage¡¯s breath was close now. Paul could feel the knife¡¯s shadow looming over him. One last time, he bit down with all his remaining strength.


    This time, something cracked, but it wasn¡¯t the cross. Pain exploded in his mouth as his teeth fractured under the pressure. The sharp taste of blood filled his mouth, dripping onto the cross and chain. Nothing happened, apart from his jaw throbbing with agony, and Paul kept his eyes shut, too drained to open them.


    There was no sound anymore. Paul waited, motionless, bracing for the blade to strike.


    He braced for the impact that never came. Instead, as Paul opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a boundless void, darker than a starless midnight sky. He was standing over a glass floor that thrummed with a low vibration that echoed through his bones as his shoes touched its surface.


    He tried to breathe but could not feel the nice cool sensation of the air traveling through his throat. It felt like he was breathing through a plastic bag, yet strangely enough, he wasn¡¯t asphyxiating.


    Confused, and before he could try to explore this weird space, he felt the touch of something... something slithered around him.


    Appendages from behind started coiling around his limbs, holding him in place, they were black as tar and oily, but solid like obsidian, their clammy, unnatural texture was revolting, and they also seemed to drain his energy, each second leaving him weaker. He tried to scream, but his voice wouldn¡¯t come out.


    From the appendices, something extended in front of him, the formless mass stretched and reassembled itself, and it slowly took the figure of a human, its exterior made from the same tar substance. It looked like it was melting and dissolving into itself, constantly breaking apart and reforming.


    Its right eye was red as roses. The other was golden, shining like polished metal with markings on its edges, and a steady, heavy ticking sound, reminiscent of an old clock, emanated from the golden eye.


    This¡­ thing was only inches away from Paul¡¯s face. Its unusually white and clear teeth were a stark contrast to the tar-like substance that made up the rest of its body. Five horn-like protrusions jutted from its head, resembling those on Paul¡¯s carnival mask.


    It stared directly at him, its breathing labored, each exhale creating a faint mist while its grin stretched unnaturally wide, starting at the outer corner of its left eye and extending all the way to the right.


    More appendages sprouted from its body, merging with the ones keeping Paul in place and creating more in the process, slithering toward Paul¡¯s face. They gripped him tightly, forcing him to lock eyes with the creature, as it asked, its voice an unnatural blend of tones that sounded both human and inhuman, each letter spoken between a whisper and a scream, ¡°Ready to make a deal?¡±

 Chapter 2 (1)

    Paul struggled to calm his racing mind. ¡®This thing offered its help. It must¡¯ve come from the artifact,¡¯ he thought, his mind flicking to the necklace. His mother¡¯s words about it were true after all. There was a connection to his family here, he couldn¡¯t deny that.


    Even so, he had reasons to remain wary, mainly its grotesque appearance, the unsettling way it spoke, and the fact that it had him completely locked up. Still, it wasn¡¯t like he had much of a choice. The moment he returned, he¡¯d be greeted with a knife. But more than that, he feared more the idea of saying ¡°no¡± to the thing in front of him.


    ¡°A¡­ gift for now. I can¡¯t have you¡­ die,¡± it spoke in pauses as its body continued to distort and contract.


    Not being able to talk, Paul carefully nodded his head.


    The entity¡¯s golden right eye flared, glowing like the sun, the mechanical sound getting louder, and faster, as its smile stretched even wider. One of its appendages darted forward, snatching the necklace from Paul¡¯s neck with a snake-like motion. ¡°Have a taste of my¡­ <u>authority</u>.¡±


    ¡®<u>Authority</u>?¡¯ Paul barely had time to process the word before the entity expanded like a tidal wave, surging forward to engulf him completely.


    Not a moment later, he opened his eyes. Taking a quick look, no time had passed at all, and it felt like he could move his body freely. But the tiredness that he felt while being drained by that horrible entity was still present. In fact, it was stronger now.


    His right hand felt hot and swollen, he felt immense pressure building up inside it as if it could burst at any moment.


    ¡°You! What did you do?!¡± the mage¡¯s voice bellowed, snapping Paul¡¯s focus. He stood before him, teeth clenched and eyes burning with fury. ¡°MY <u>AUTHORITY</u>! I¡¯ve sacrificed so much! How did you stop it?!¡±


    Paul couldn¡¯t respond as his mind was consumed by the pressure building in his arm. It was unbearable, demanding release. Acting on instinct, he flicked his hand. It was as simple as moving a finger.


    The air vanished¡ªgone in an instant, as if snuffed out.


    The air around him vanished¡ªgone in an instant, as if snuffed out.


    The mage collapsed to the ground, falling to all fours. He tried to gasp for air, but there was none.


    His face, twisted in fury a moment ago, was now contorted in pure agony. Muscles pulled in unnatural directions, veins bulging at his temples. His jaw clenched so tightly it seemed the teeth might splinter, and his wide, watery eyes locked onto Paul with a mix of hatred, terror and confusion. Blood began to pour from his eyes, nose, and mouth like a faucet, pooling beneath him.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡®Serves you right, bastard,¡¯ Paul tried to laugh, but he was also struggling to breathe. Unlike the mage, though, he wasn¡¯t suffering the full effect of whatever Paul casting.


    A sharp crack broke his focus.


    Next to him, the twins had woken up from the mage¡¯s <u>authority</u>. They were clutching each other tightly, each holding strange cards in trembling hands. The cards glowed with a purple-blue hue, forming a shimmering barrier around them. But the protection didn¡¯t last. The barrier, along with the cards, cracking in a moment and shattering in the next.


    The boy frantically retrieved more cards. The girl had been the one to cast them, but both were clearly affected. Purple blood dripped from their faces in uneven streams that stained their pale skin. They weren¡¯t in the same state like the mage, but the barrier was clearly not fully protecting them. They looked weakened, ready to collapse at any moment, especially the girl.


    It did not take long, and the girl crumpled first, her body going limp as her final barrier failed. Her brother held on for only a second longer before he too collapsed, unable to withstand the full force of whatever Paul had unleashed.


    He needed to quickly shut this thing down, and it was just as easy as activating it, a simple though, like controlling an extra limb.


    Paul tried to get up quickly, but his legs turned into noodles, and his vision started to darken. He grabbed the wall to support himself, his fingers scraping against the surface as he fought to stay on his feet. Inspecting himself, his skin looked white as chalk.


    Severely weakened, he grabbed the bodies of the twins and began dragging them away. The mage lay lifeless in a pool of his own blood. Paul didn¡¯t have the energy to check if he was dead or to finish the job. He felt too exhausted to care, he just wanted to leave.


    But he had to call for help, and he needed to get somewhere easily identifiable. Trying to direct someone through these endless corridors would take so long they might as well find his bones first.


    As the clock struck 0000, the world outside erupted with fireworks. Diverse shapes painted across the sky, bursts of mana and gunpowder filling the air with light and noise. Paul, dragging the two unconscious twins behind him, was a stark contrast to the celebration. His grip kept slipping, making him tumble to the ground. ¡°Can you two wake up already?¡± he muttered through gritted teeth as he got up and resumed his slow, agonizing pace. ¡°I should¡¯ve gone to the cemetery instead.¡±


    The girl¡¯s phone had been ringing for some time, its sound barely cutting through the explosions. He hoped it was someone trustworthy, someone who could help. Still, he waited until he reached the entrance of his apartment building before finally stopping. Gently, he laid the twins on the ground and retrieved the phone. It must have rung at least twenty times by now.


    The name on the phone appeared in front of Paul¡¯s eye, crystal clear: ¡®Big G¡­ sounds good enough to me!¡¯ he though as he immediately answered, giving the person on the other end a chance to speak, ¡°Listen closely!¡± he exclaimed, Paul wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.


    ¡°The two are safe. I found them being attacked by a bloody cultist, injured and alone. I barely managed to defeat him and escape with them. We are all three in critical condition. Come collect them at¡­¡± He rattled off his address, then closed the call without waiting for a response, dropped the phone on the ground, and then fell on his side.


    Feeling too tired to care anymore, he just wanted to close his eyes for now. If he was lucky, he might open them again.

 Chapter 2 (2)

    Paul¡¯s conscience returned to him, and his body felt just as heavy and weakened as it had before he fell asleep.


    With not enough energy to open his eyes, he limply moved his arm to his eyelids and began to massage them gently. His back felt surprisingly comfortable. The surface beneath him was soft, smooth, and cool. It was a stark contrast to his crusty, old, hard bed.


    ¡®Am I in a hospital?¡¯ The thought worried him. A single day in a hospital bed would take him at least a month of work to pay off.


    But the anxiety about losing money was quickly overpowered by the sheer exhaustion he felt. Money could come later. It was a problem for future Paul. Right now, he wanted to savor this sweet, comforting embrace.


    ¡®Dammit, what does that thing even want?¡¯ Paul¡¯s thoughts drifted back to his encounter with that entity, he wasn¡¯t sure whether he sold his soul to some orias.


    There wasn¡¯t much he could do now except go with the flow a little. Paul couldn¡¯t didn¡¯t even want to think what might happen if he was too rebellious. And on the other hand, he felt his life might become a bit more exciting this way.


    As he massaged his eyelids, he noticed a strange lack of resistance. Probably because his mask was missing.


    Afraid that his perfectly average looks might be on full display, he groaned and quickly tried to push himself up. Doctors often used this tactic as blackmail against people from the Garden District. You were never supposed to remove your mask in any place where others could see you, except in private.


    His golden amber hair fell in disarray from the sudden movement. A few strands falling out, and his vision started to blacken at the edges. His heart was pounding so heavily that it felt like it was shaking his chest.


    ¡°Easy there,¡± came a voice, followed by support as the owner of the voice softly helped Paul back on the bed, ¡°You shouldn¡¯t force yourself, I¡¯ve heard your condition is bad,¡± his voice was meek and soft, and it sounded familiar.


    His eyes squinted as he tried to open them a little and take a quick peek.


    The face that Paul saw was delicate, with glistening skin dusted with freckles. Its proportions were strikingly balanced, almost unnaturally perfect, and a few bandages clung to his skin. Dressed in casual attire. His eyes matched his phosphor-yellow hair, glowing faintly, with square pupils that gave them a sharp, unnatural edge. A wide smile stretched across his face, and his quick, shallow breaths radiated excitement. Paul recognized him immediately.


    ¡°You¡¯re alive, how lovely. How¡¯s your sister?¡± he asked his voice weak and hoarse. His eyes darting around the room as he quickly took it in. The floor was made of polished wooden planks, smooth and gleaming. The walls were a crisp white, painted with golden patterns of grape leaves that curled and intertwined with tableaus here and there. There were five other empty beds identical to Paul¡¯s, each neatly made with heavy, warm blankets, all clean white. Around the beds were simple, sturdy chairs. From the corners of the room, pipes sprawled across the floor, connecting at devices positioned between the beds. These devices radiated a gentle warmth, making the room comfortably cozy.


    If Paul could whistle, he would have. ¡®Not even the Amber District folks can dream of a fancy room like this¡¯, he thought, marveling at the luxury. ¡®They must be from the Argent District¡¯, the district of the rich, strong, and influential. Once considered a step below the nobility, the Argent District had grown in prominence as the nobles¡¯ power dwindled. Nowadays, the gap between them hardly seemed significant.


    ¡°She¡¯s out for a bit, talking to some bloodhounds about the incident,¡± the twin explained. The bloodhounds were the people in charge of keeping magic-related activities under control, usually dealing with strong followers of nefarious gods, terrorists, or generally dangerous individuals.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Kaelion,¡± he said as he extended his left hand, which Paul shook, ¡°Fancy name. Paul¡±


    ¡°You were so awesome, brother!¡± he exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air, his voice loud and full of energy.


    ¡°Hehe, it was nothing,¡± Paul chuckled as he rubbed his nose, enjoying the praise. The twin nodded excitedly, continuing, ¡°My sister got everything on her phone. You looked so cool!¡± Paul now realized why she had kept her phone so close. Evidence was always good to have.


    ¡°They said you lost a lot of blood.¡± Paul already had an idea what was wrong with him from his from symptoms. But his confirmed it. He was clearly anemic.


    ¡°They tried to give you different blood, but your body kept rejecting it. You¡¯d start bleeding, and your condition worsened. You¡¯ve been out for five days, and we weren¡¯t sure you¡¯d wake up.¡±


    Paul¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He had been standing with one foot inside death¡¯s door. At the same time, he couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the irony of the situation. ¡°So you almost killed me?¡± he asked, chuckling.


    The twin went quiet, putting his arms behind his back and avoiding eye contact.


    ¡®He looks like a guilty puppy, Paul thought, feeling a twinge of guilt himself.¡¯ Paul suddenly felt guilty, ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that. I know you meant no harm,¡± Paul said, his tone softer. At his words, the twin huffed through his nose, and his face lit up again. Eager to change the subject, he said, ¡°There¡¯s someone who wants to thank you,¡± as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Soon enough, rapid footsteps echoed through the halls, growing louder and faster with every second. As the source of the footsteps reached the door, Paul braced himself for someone to walk in.


    Smash!


    And an entrance it was as the door exploded into pieces, splinters of wood flying everywhere, while dust filled the room. The loud crash reverberated through the air, and bits of word scattered onto the floor. Paul stared, dumbfounded, as a figure strode through the chaos, brushing dust off his shoulder.


    The figure looked somewhat young, his face similar to the twins¡¯ but without freckles. His phosphor yellow eyes with square pupils glowed faintly. His hair was white as fresh snow, long and tied back in a ponytail. He was dressed in black shoes, jeans, and a slightly wrinkled white shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His build was toned, with hints of muscle peeking through, not exceptional, but noticeable. His air was easygoing and relaxed, as if bursting through a door was nothing unusual.


    Paul wanted to laugh really badly, finding the scene far too amusing. ¡®Seems like energy runs in the family¡¯, he thought, settling for a sneaky chuckle. He quickly deduced that this must be the twins¡¯ father.


    ¡°Grandfather, I just installed that door! You¡¯ll scare our guest,¡± the young twin complained, rushing over to fuss at the old man.


    Grandfather? Holy mother of the 4th prince, he looks better than both me and his grandchild combined, Paul thought. Not that he was particularly stunning, but either way, only the strongest mages could slow their aging like this. And he might just be standing in the presence of one.


    ¡°Watch your tongue, you cheeky brat. That¡¯s your ¡®hero,¡¯ not just a ¡®guest,¡¯¡± the old man said, locking the twin in an arm hold. The younger man squirmed and fought to break free, but the elder¡¯s arms didn¡¯t budge, like a mountain. As he realized it was futile, the twin groaned dramatically, ¡°Okay, alright, I get it! You¡¯re embarrassing me!¡± as he started to pout.


    Their little scuffle dragged on, until Paul, growing bored of watching them, cleared his throat loudly enough to get their attention.


    ¡°Oh, how rude of me! I¡¯m Erythion¡± the old man exclaimed, releasing his grandson. In a flash, he appeared beside Paul, moving so quickly Paul barely tracked him. ¡°Thank you for saving my clumsy pieces of sunrise,¡± he said, extending his left hand. Paul quickly shook it, he couldn¡¯t afford to be disrespectful, ¡°Paul. I just was doing the right thing.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I don¡¯t plan on letting you leave empty-handed after such a great deed,¡± the old man continued, grabbing a nearby chair, flipping it around, and sitting with the backrest hugged to his chest. ¡°You need to recover, at least. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re in no condition to go anywhere, and you¡¯ve been here a long time. How about I contact your relatives or friends to visit you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nobody, don¡¯t worry,¡± Paul replied with a flat smile.


    ¡°Oh, you poor thing. The great goddess of luck has forsaken you,¡± the old man said thoughtfully before brightening. ¡°How about you stay with us until you¡¯re fully recovered? I¡¯ll treat you like family!¡± He beckoned the twin to bring his own chair.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare trouble you,¡± Paul said, his heart quickening slightly, unsure of the man¡¯s intentions.


    ¡°What are you talking about? I¡¯ll even kick this useless brat out from the dinner table if I need to make room.¡± The old man¡¯s tone was so earnest and energetic Paul couldn¡¯t refuse further without risking offense.


    Changing the subject, the old man said, ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t expect someone from the Garden District to move like that, know such tricks, or have such power,¡± the old man said, his curiosity evident but not overbearing. Still, Paul understood the suspicion, after all, it¡¯s not every day a talented man like him comes out of the sewers, and he could be related to something dangerous for all the old man knew.


    Paul decided to open up a bit. It wasn¡¯t that he felt threatened, but he himself didn¡¯t know the full picture, so having someone with more authority look into things might give him a lead so he could investigate himself. And cooperating would give a better impression.


    He shared his family history, the notes left behind, his activities as a child, and his life as an adult. He even mentioned that the <u>crying mirror</u> had detected no mana or birth blessing in him at a young age. He provided his ID, address, and other details, though he omitted anything about the tar entity.


    The old man listened intently, one finger covering his lips, his eyes darting thoughtfully. ¡°You don¡¯t mind if I send someone to your place, right?¡±


    Paul hesitated briefly, his family¡¯s home was their legacy. But in the end, he didn¡¯t think the information inside there was too valuable to a great mage, or at least he hoped as he¡¯s never had the chance to interact with other mages.


    He put on his fakest smile and said, ¡°Go right ahead.¡±


    Taking out his own phone, he dialed a contact and he told the person on the other side of the phone to send some people at the address, and he gave the details of Paul¡¯s ID. The old man didn¡¯t seem to want to hide anything, and so talked the entire time in front of Paul.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep you updated if I find anything,¡± The mage said. Paul was feeling a bit more at ease. Maybe this could lead him toward uncovering his family¡¯s past.


    ¡°On another note,¡± the old man began, stroking his hairless chin, ¡°we¡¯ll wait a few weeks for you to get back into top shape. Then, I¡¯ll bring in a new <u>crying mirror</u> and a <u>divinity globe</u> to run some proper checks.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Paul replied and nodded.


    ¡°Oh, and I¡¯ll also have you spar with one of the twins, or maybe both at the same time. Or, if you¡¯re up for it, one of my people. Depends on how strong you really turn out to be.¡±


    Paul tilted his head. ¡°I¡¯m fine with that, but¡­ why?¡±


    ¡°I need to get an idea of your skills to know which school to place you in. Your fight with that bastard was too short, and you had the advantage of surprise. I can¡¯t make proper decisions based on that.¡± The old man stated as he shrugged.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Paul said, grateful for the thoughtfulness.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Now¡ª¡± The old man grinned wickedly. ¡°Let me share some embarrassing pictures and stories about my grandchildren.¡±


    ¡°What?! No, please, not again!¡± the twin yelped, as he jumped from his chair, stepping closer to his grandfather as if ready to intervene.


    The old man calmly placed a hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder, locking eyes with him like a commander staring down a recruit. His grin widened.


    ¡°Yes. Again!¡± he shouted triumphantly, pumping his fist in the air


    The banter had been going on for some time. The young man was slouched in his chair, arms crossed, pouting like a child as his grandfather gleefully pulled out picture after picture and rattled off embarrassing stories. It was as if the old man had been present for every second of their lives.


    Paul couldn¡¯t help but feel like he now knew the twins better than their parents probably did.


    It didn¡¯t seem like the mage would run out of stories anytime soon, but thankfully, his phone started ringing. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, standing up and pulling out the device.


    As he answered the call, the lively grin on his face faded slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping. ¡°Mhm¡­ I see. Could you take a look into it?¡± he said in a neutral tone before hanging up.


    Turning back to Paul, his expression grew more serious. ¡°My people visited your place. They found the door broken into.¡±


    Paul blinked, his stomach sinking as the old man continued, ¡°The place has been picked clean.¡±