Over the next three weeks, Leo settled into a steady rhythm. Each morning, he accompanied Klaus through the city, helping with various errands, deliveries, and meetings. Most of the tasks were mundane, but they gave him a better understanding of how the lower city functioned—and allowed him to observe how people treated Klaus with respect. In the evenings, the two of them would train for a couple of hours. The sessions weren't overly intense, but Leo found them enjoyable. Klaus's calm, practical way of teaching helped him sharpen his skills again.
Outside of those daily routines, Leo spent nearly all his time secluded in his domain, surrounded by books. He had already finished The Arcane Capital: Aclisa, which turned out to be more of a history book than a magical guide, offering little beyond background knowledge. Binding the Arcane: Principles of Permanent Enchantments, however, was different. It contained dozens of complex enchantment spells, though Leo had no time to practice most of them. So, he picked two: Explosion Trap, a spell that planted a volatile burst of magic capable of causing serious damage—far more destructive than his Mana Surge—and Hold, a spell that conjured magical chains to immobilize his target. Both seemed practical and versatile enough to be worth mastering.
His third book was Spellbinder. Unlike the previous one, this one was shorter but filled with advanced techniques. Among the many spells listed, Leo focused on the few that truly stood out. One was a method of using Telepathy without needing an item. Another was a set of improvements to Telekinesis, the spell he had relied on more than any other since he learned it. By learning to refine the control and increase the output, he hoped to turn it from a utility spell into a deadly weapon.
But what fascinated him the most was a technique for releasing raw, unshaped mana in short, concentrated bursts—a kind of shockwave spell that didn't rely on any specific element or illusion. It was a rare kind of spell, difficult to control, but extremely powerful in the hands of a skilled caster. Leo wasn't there yet—but he was determined to get there.
He was now immersed in Mystery, focusing his training on Illusion and the Phantom spell. Phantom was a unique spell that didn't need to be cast directly on an enemy. It was more like False Image, it created a copy of the caster—and could even conceal the caster himself. It was an incredibly useful spell in combat, especially for dodging or launching surprise attacks. However, it couldn't hide the caster's mana, which still surged visibly from his body. For seasoned fighters, that was more than enough to spot him, so the spell's effectiveness had its limits.
Outside of his usual new routine, he had skipped the last three meetings. Part of it was due to a lack of time, but the bigger reason was fear—he was worried Alexia might notice something. Still, missing so many gatherings was beginning to raise suspicion. With the next one just two days away, he decided he'd attend.
He exited his domain and slipped back into his body, which was already lying on the bed.
'Next, I need to learn how to cast in midair. Then I'll be one level stronger.'
…
Leo stood in the middle of the training ground, his posture tense, focused. Opposite him, Klaus held his sword in a relaxed but ready stance. Unlike usual, Alexia was there too, standing at the edge of the field with her arms crossed, quietly observing.
"You can use all your spells," Klaus said.
"Really? I thought this was supposed to be a physical match," Leo replied, raising an eyebrow.
Klaus smirked. "You want to impress her, don't you?"
Leo grinned back—and then lunged forward, pouring all his strength into his first strike. The clash of metal rang sharply through the air as their swords collided. They exchanged rapid slashes, until Leo lifted his left hand. His ring shimmered with a soft glow. Still unable to cast spells in midair, he funneled his Illusion magic through the ring.
Klaus's focus faltered slightly. His stance slowed, just enough. Leo seized the moment, stepping to the right to flank him—but even under the effects of the illusion, Klaus reacted. His blade sliced into Leo's shoulder but the figure shattered like glass.
Another Leo appeared behind him, sword already swinging toward his exposed side.
Klaus gritted his teeth. The illusion hadn't been meant to distract him, but to make the Phantom more convincing. Blue flames erupted around Klaus's body as he activated Bloodrage, his speed and strength surging. In a blur, his sword whipped around and deflected Leo's strike. The sheer force of it pushed Leo back several meters.
"When did you learn to use Phantom?" Klaus asked, his expression tight now. "You actually made me go serious."
The flickering blue fire that cloaked him was Bloodrage, a spell akin to Berserk. Where Berserk drew power from pain, Bloodrage forcefully enhanced the body by combining mana with the blood—unlocking muscular potential and boosting magical flow. Like a controlled surge, it was power refined, not wild.
"Yesterday," Leo replied.
Klaus chuckled, then opened his mouth and let out a thunderous roar. Battle Shout, a warrior's skill that sent fear and pressure crashing over an enemy, freezing them in place. Leo's body locked up as the force hit him.
Klaus didn't waste a second. He charged, fast as lightning now under Bloodrage.
But Leo was prepared. He triggered Illusion—this time casting it on himself, and this one didn't need the ring. The moment it took hold, every illusion spell he'd fused activated at once, reinforcing his mind.
He smiled. To an illusionist, mental effects like Battle Shout were nothing but noise.
Raising his hand, he revealed a small sheet of enchanted paper. Etched into it was the Hold spell. With a quiet hum, chains burst from the ground, coiling around Klaus in an instant and halting his advance.
He knew the spell wouldn't hold Klaus for long—just a few seconds at best—so he acted fast. Pulling out an Explosion Trap, he injected his mana into the enchantment, activating it. Then, focusing hard, he channeled raw magic through his arm and released it forward in a forceful wave. It wasn't just Telekinesis—it was the new method he had been training: compressing and blasting mana like a shock wave to propel objects with far more force. The trap shot forward like a cannonball, powered by both Telekinisis and the surge of pure magic behind it.
Klaus had already broken free, the chains falling in shattered pieces around him. He charged again, just as Leo hurled the glowing trap.
The air trembled. The trap flew toward Klaus like a missile and exploded mid-air in a violent burst of fire and sound.
Leo narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the smoke. For a second, he thought it might've worked, then the flames split cleanly in half. Klaus stepped through the fire, his sword drawn and his eyes sharp.
'He can cut flames?' Leo barely had a moment to be surprised before the blade came straight for his neck.
He dropped, landing hard on the ground to avoid the strike. Klaus stopped just short, then sheathed his sword with a grin and offered Leo a hand. Leo grabbed it and pulled himself up, breathing hard.
"Good," Alexia's voice came from behind them. She was still standing in the corner, arms folded. "But you still need a lot more practice." Then, without another word, she turned and left the training ground.
Leo watched her go, unsure how to take her words.
"That's more praise than she ever gave to her previous student," Klaus said casually.
"Really?" Leo asked, his expression lighting up with a flicker of childish pride.
Klaus just smiled.
Feeling a little embarrassed but also oddly motivated, Leo mumbled a quick farewell and headed back to his room—there was still much more to learn.
…
Somewhere in the Kingdom of Magic.
Inside a towering black spire, in one of its many dimly lit chambers, two archmages sat in silence. One of them was a skeleton, his yellowed bones held together by old magic. The other was a man in a hooded cloak, his face hidden in shadow. Between them hovered a single page, its surface etched with strange, shifting symbols that pulsed faintly with an unnatural glow.
"Aran, we cannot bring this to the Covenant Citadel," the other mage said, his voice low and tense.
The skeletal archmage, Aran, shifted slightly, the sound of bones creaking echoing through the quiet room. He understood the weight of the situation. The three kingdoms had only fragments of knowledge regarding the God of Death, and the Citadel had specifically tasked him with recovering as many pages from the Book of the Dead as possible. Until now, every recovered page had contained spells or rituals—but this one was different.
This page told a story.
It revealed a betrayal. And not just any betrayal—it spoke of the God of Magic turning against his own. A god worshiped by the people of the Kingdom of Magic. To reveal such a truth would shatter their faith and spark chaos across the Three Kingdoms.
"We'll keep it hidden… for now," Aran said finally.
With a flick of his bony fingers, the page floated down and vanished into a small, spell-bound chest—its surface etched with countless wards, enchantments, and protective runes.
…
In the vast sea, near an isolated island.
Arthur stood on the main deck, wind brushing through his coat as he stared through a spyglass, his eyes narrowing on the distant wreck of a ship. The vessel, though barely afloat, was unmistakable.
"No doubt about it… it's the Black Fang," he said, voice steady.
Laid stepped up beside him, his brow furrowed. "But what's it doing beached on that island?"
Arthur didn't take his eyes off the scene. "It's been in a fight—could've been Osara, could've been someone else. Doesn't matter. Whatever hit them, hit them hard." He turned, sharp and direct. "We anchor here. Gather everyone."
Laid nodded briskly. "Aye aye, Captain." He moved to the center of the deck and bellowed, "Steady the helm!"
The crew leapt into motion, adjusting sails and guiding the ship closer to the rocky shore. As the island loomed nearer, Laid shouted again, "Anchor's away!" The heavy chain rattled as the anchor plunged into the sea with a deep splash.
"All hands on deck!" he called, and the rest of the crew quickly assembled, boots thudding against wood, eyes fixed on their captain.
Arthur stepped forward. "There's a good chance the Black Fang is setting up an ambush on that island. Stay alert and be ready for anything. We move out in five minutes."
The crew broke off in every direction, preparing gear, sharpening blades, checking packs. Arthur remained still, his gaze locked on the shadowy shoreline. Watching. Waiting.
Five minutes later, three boats were lowered into the water. Arthur, along with twenty of his men, boarded and rowed toward the island in silence. The sea was calm, but tension lingered in the air like mist.
Once on land, they made their way inland, moving quickly through the underbrush. It wasn't their first time on this island—Arthur remembered the layout well. They followed the same path from before, weaving through the familiar trees and rocky paths.
After nearly half an hour, they reached a village—if it could be called that. Dozens of broken wooden structures stood haphazardly, forming a rough perimeter.
Laid walked up beside Arthur and lowered his voice. "This… this wasn't here last time, right?"
Arthur didn't take his eyes off the buildings. "No…"
Then, louder, he called out, "Split into groups. Search the place. I'll go alone."
The crew obeyed, breaking off into smaller units, each heading in a different direction.
Arthur headed straight for the largest structure—a weather-worn building with its door broken and lying half-splintered on the ground. From the outside, it looked like an old inn, barely standing. Inside, dust hung thick in the air. A long table stretched across the far end of the room, and a narrow staircase curled up along the wall.
It was too quiet. Not a single soul. Not even a body to suggest someone had lived or died here. Then, behind him, the wooden floor creaked. Before he could turn, a voice rang out sharply:
"Don't move." Arthur knew this voice, it belong to captain Bernardo de Barbanario.