Leylin stood beside the carriage, the cool evening air brushing against his skin as the faint rustle of leaves carried through the outskirts of Zither Moon Town.
The spoils of Dylan Gardens herbs, crystals, and the Black Horrall Snake's corpse were neatly stowed within, a testament to his triumph. His gaze shifted to the three knight slaves, their armor glinting faintly under the dim starlight, their faces etched with the exhaustion of battle yet unwavering in their obedience.
"Come here, you three," he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative.
The knights shuffled forward, dropping to their knees on the cold, hard ground, heads bowed in unison. Leylin regarded them silently for a moment, then pointed to each in turn.
"You have served me well. From now on, your names will be Fred, Garvin, and Dexter." He assigned the name 'Dexter' to the Grand Knight, his tone clipped, devoid of flourish or sentiment. "You are my knights. Stay useful and loyal, and only good things will come from following me."
"Thank you, Master!" Fred, Garvin, and Dexter intoned, their voices a chorus of gratitude as they pressed their foreheads to the earth, then rose to kiss his boots in a ritual of fealty, the dust clinging to their lips unnoticed.
Leylin turned to Greem, who stood nearby, his posture rigid with anticipation. "Greem, you're their Head Knight now."
"Master, thank you for this responsibility," Greem said, bowing deeply, his voice thick with resolve. "I won't disappoint you."
"Do that by becoming a Grand Knight soon," Leylin replied, his gaze piercing. "You're no longer the strongest in my ranks with Dexter here. I'll reward you all with a better knight meditation technique don't fail me."
Without further ado, he strode to the carriage and settled into the front seat, the worn leather creaking faintly beneath him as he waited for the knights to finish their preparations, his mind already drifting to the spoils of his journey.
He'd decided to invest in these men, to forge them into something greater. The path of the Branded Swordsman intrigued him an art of inscriptions and martial prowess. Leylin has gain some inscription manuals and rune crafting journals from the Dylan Gardens as well.
'Dorotte's teachings will flesh it out,' he mused, fingers brushing the Book of Giant Serpent tucked against his chest. 'The inscriptions alone are a start, but I need the full picture.'
For the next four months, Leylin retreated to a villa on the outskirts of Zither Moon Town, a secluded haven nestled among rolling hills and whispering pines.
The villa was a sturdy affair, its stone walls weathered yet imposing, its windows narrow slits that let in slivers of pale light.
Within, he immersed himself in the wealth of knowledge he'd amassed study materials, research leads, and the precious spell models from the Book of Giant Serpent. The 12 Rank 1 and 3 Rank 2 spells alone were a trove to keep him occupied, each requiring meticulous recording, analysis, optimization, and adjustment.
Days blurred into weeks, then months, the passage of time a mere flicker as he pored over ancient texts, his quill scratching against parchment, the A.I. Chip humming in his mind to catalog every insight. The villa's quiet was his sanctuary, broken only by the occasional clink of glassware in his makeshift lab or the rustle of turning pages.
His servants thrived in parallel, their diligence a quiet counterpoint to his seclusion. Anna, as head of the household, managed the villa with an iron hand veiled in silk overseeing supplies, maintaining the grounds, and nurturing the estate's operations with a keen eye.
The knights—Fred, Garvin, Dexter, Fraser and Greem trained relentlessly under the Grand Knight meditation technique Leylin had bestowed, their sweat-soaked forms moving through drills in the courtyard.
Leylin's knight life-nourishing potions fueled their progress, vials of shimmering liquid that bolstered their vitality and honed their strength.
Greem, ever the taskmaster, drove them hard, his own practice a mirror of their efforts, though Dexter's Grand Knight status cast a shadow he strove to overcome.
One evening, as Leylin sat in his study a room of dark wood and towering shelves, the air thick with the scent of ink and old paper his chest pocket buzzed.
A harsh, crow-like caw erupted from a small device within, and his expression shifted, a spark of anticipation lighting his eyes. He set aside the rune book he'd been studying, its pages dense with cryptic symbols, and retrieved the vibrating object.
"It's finally here," he said softly. "The return order from the academy."
The war at Abyssal Bone Forest Academy had reached its zenith, a brutal clash teetering on the edge of resolution. As an acolyte dispatched on a mission, Leylin carried academy-issued contact items single-use artifacts designed to relay critical updates.
This one signaled the war's turning point. Sage Gotham's Hut and Whitewoods Castle had squeezed the academy in a vise, damaging its headquarters' defensive formation by half, nearly breaching it. Yet the Lighthouse of the Night a south coast titan led by a rumored Rank 3 Magus had intervened, forcing a treaty that spared Abyssal Bone Forest from ruin.
Leylin's foresight filled the gaps the message omitted. The war among official Magi had ceased, but for acolytes, the bloodshed lingered. Behind the rival factions loomed another powerful guild, counterbalancing the Lighthouse's might.
The treaty's special clause demanded a bloodbath a ritual duel in a secret plane where acolytes would slaughter each other to settle the score, its terms sealed by unbreakable contracts.
The academy's chairman had issued the highest order: all acolytes abroad must return within three months or face execution as traitors by the disciplinary team.
"For me, this is an opportunity," Leylin mused, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking faintly. "Spells and resources will be dirt-cheap in the chaos. My summons make me a one-man army, the Fallen Star Pendant's defense is unshakable, and my Grand Knight strength outmatches most Level 3 acolytes. With the Rank 1 spell models I've studied and reconstructed, my casting's leaps ahead. Contribution points will buy Rank 1 spells and Grine Water—a perfect cover for my true breakthrough."
He rose, stepping from the experiment lab a cluttered space of alembics, glowing runes, and potion-stained tables into the villa's shadowed halls.
"Anna!" he called, his voice carrying through the stillness. She appeared swiftly, her blonde hair catching the candlelight, her servant's garb pristine.
"Summon all knights to Gate 3 at midnight." She nodded, departing with a soft rustle of fabric.
In his chamber, Leylin dined alone, a simple meal of roasted fowl, crusty bread, and spiced wine served on a silver tray.
The flavors were rich, the wine's warmth spreading through him as he ate in silence, the crackle of the hearth his only company. Anna returned later, slipping into the room with a quiet grace. Their intimacy was swift and intense, a release of tension beneath the flickering firelight, her curves pressed against him until they parted, breathless.
Refreshed, Leylin donned a dark cloak and strode to Gate 3, the villa's rear exit framed by ivy-covered stone.
The knights awaited Fred, Garvin, Dexter, Fraser and Greem kneeling in the moonlit courtyard, their breaths misting in the chill.
"Report the progress," Leylin said, his tone even. Greem rose, his grim face softening with pride. "Mandal and Faisal's trainees two of the seven have reached knight rank, the rest are close. My student was first."
Leylin nodded, tossing him a vial of Grand Knight potion, its amber liquid glinting. "When I return, I expect my Head Knight to be a Grand Knight."
Greem caught it, a rare smile breaking through his stoicism. "Yes, Master."
"Stay within the manor," Leylin commanded, his voice firm but opaque. He offered no explanation none was needed but he knew the Grand Magus inheritance maps would soon surface, stirring chaos across Zither Moon Town.
His villa, remote and fortified with traps, spells, and runes, was a fortress no acolyte could breach, yet caution ruled him still.
He stepped back, raising a hand. "Ex anima mea, equus meus!"
A ripple of spiritual force pulsed, and a horse materialized from his soulbound space a sleek, black steed, its mane flowing like shadow. It was a normal mount, exceptional in stamina and speed but unremarkable otherwise, bound for convenience. (Image)
Leylin cast a spell—"Velum umbrae!"—and a shroud of illusion cloaked them, dulling the horse's ethereal glow and masking his own form beneath a voluminous black robe.
Mounting swiftly, he urged the steed forward, its hooves silent against the earth as they merged with the night, a phantom vanishing into the darkness.