The outskirts of a western province in the Poolfield Kingdom stretched wide and desolate, a dusty road cutting through the barren landscape like a scar.
Today, under a sky bruised with twilight, a black steed, its form shimmering as if woven from shadows themselves galloped forward, hooves pounding the earth with relentless purpose.

Astride it sat a figure cloaked in a green hood, the fabric fluttering like a banner of secrecy. Leylin's heart thrummed with a quiet satisfaction as the wind whipped past, carrying the faint, earthy scent of pine and dust.
'Finally back to Zither Moon Town.' he thought, a faint smile tugging beneath the hood. 'I saw a few students from Sage Gotham's Hut academy, I guess Jayden, Bosain, and their crew must be coming soon too.'
The memory of Jayden's persistent offers flashed in his mind—letters, bribes, even promises before the mission, each one rebuffed with cold finality.
'I have to give it to him, the boy is trying so hard.' Leylin mused, a wry amusement curling his lips, 'but I can only disappoint him.'
Leylin has woven a careful lie at the academy, telling Kroft he was chasing a Rank 1 spell, and finding ways to breakthrough, painting himself as a man consumed by solitary ambition. Jayden, left with no choice, had turned to lesser potion master, cobbling together a team that barely met the criteria to tackle the poisonous and treacherous path that would ultimately lead to an obscure treasure hunt.
Unknown to all, Leylin had slipped away through Kroft's grave area, a shadowed path that veiled his departure from prying eyes. Now, bypassing Zither Moon Town's glow, he urged the steed through the darkened forest, its boughs whispering secrets in the night.
The mansion loomed ahead, its stone facade weathered but proud, a sentinel against the wild. Two guards Fred and Garvin stirred at the gate, their lanterns casting feeble pools of light as they moved to intercept.
"Open the gates! It's me, Fred," Leylin commanded, his voice cold but familiar, a spark of relief easing the tension in their shoulders as they recognized his face.
"Young Master!" Fred and Garvin's voices rang with respect, tinged with surprise, as they bowed low, their armor clinking softly.
"Welcome back!" they added, haste in their movements as they swung the heavy gates wide.
As the doors parted, Leylin raised a hand, murmuring, "Dismiss."
The black steed dissolved into wisps of shadow, its summon fading with a faint shimmer. He stepped forward, the gravel crunching under his boots, a quiet thrill of homecoming settling in his chest.
"Young Master!" Dexter, the Grand Knight, strode forward, his broad frame filling the doorway. His bow was deep, his voice rich with loyalty. "You've returned!"
"There's no need to create a scene," Leylin said, a gentle chastisement in his tone, softened by a tired smile.
"It's late at night, I'll meet everyone tomorrow. For now, inform Anna to immediately prepare a meal for me." His words carried a weary authority, the ache of three days' relentless riding seeping into his bones.
Dexter nodded, his eyes sharp with understanding, and glanced back.
"You heard the Young Master!" he called, his voice booming as a young girl at the hall's edge scurried off, her footsteps echoing likely to fetch Anna.
Leylin shrugged off his outer robe, letting it fall to the ground in a heap of green fabric, dust rising faintly.
Dexter scooped it up with practiced ease, passing it to a hovering servant. "Take this to be washed," he instructed, his tone commanding.
Leylin sank onto a plush couch in the grand hall, its cushions yielding beneath him with a soft sigh.
"Finally," he groaned, the sound low and unguarded, relief flooding through him as he stretched his legs, the tension of the journey unraveling. Three days of ceaseless riding had left his muscles taut, his body craving rest, and the familiar warmth of the mansion wrapped around him like a balm.
"Where's Greem?" he asked, his voice curious, a faint lift at the end as he glanced at Dexter, who stood attentively nearby.
"Head Knight Greem has taken the kids for a small practicing journey to help them awaken their life seed," Dexter replied, his tone steady.
"Oh, what's the result of their practice?" Leylin's question came with a spark of interest, his head tilting slightly, curiosity in his voice as he leaned forward.
"Four of the seven kids have awakened as Knights," Dexter said, a note of satisfaction coloring his words. "The remaining three will likely awaken their life seeds in a few days."
Leylin nodded, a pleased hum escaping him. "It seems that Greem is working hard," he said, his voice rich with approval.
"Yes, my lord," Dexter agreed, his tone reverent, a quiet respect underscoring his words.
"How about his own progress?" Leylin asked closing his eyes, and a maid appeared from behind starting to massage his head gently.
"Head Knight Greem has already broken through to Grand Knight level," Dexter replied.
Leylin grunted in return, another maid appeared to massage his legs as well.
Leylin laid on the couch for a few minutes without saying anything, silently enjoying the service.
"The magical activity is increasing these days," he said, his tone growing serious, a weight of responsibility threading through it. "Probably in a few weeks, acolytes from various academies will be coming. Be sure to keep guard. I won't tolerate any mistakes." His eyes opened and locked onto Dexter's, unyielding and fierce.
"I have already told you what to do. I'll be entering seclusion, I won't be free for a while. You have to make sure no one enters. I've already given the commands to Greem as well. From now on, no one should be allowed to get out of the mansion until I'm out of my seclusion. Is that understood?"
The words carried a steely edge, his voice low but resonant with authority, a quiet storm brewing behind his calm.
"Yes, my lord," Dexter said, his nod sharp, his voice firm with unwavering loyalty, a glint of determination in his eyes.
Anna descended from the upper floor, her steps light but deliberate, bowing silently as she approached, her presence a quiet efficiency that Leylin appreciated.
"Is everything ready?" he asked, not turning.
"Yes, Young Master," Anna replied instantly, her tone confident, almost eager, as if the question itself affirmed her diligence.
Leylin nodded, rising with a faint creak of the couch, waving away the maids and strode toward the master room.
Inside, a table gleamed with bounty ripe fruits, crusty bread, and steaming dishes still being laid out by maids, their movements swift and precise. The aroma of roasted meat and fresh herbs filled the air, curling around him like a warm embrace.
He sat, hunger sharpening his senses, and began to eat, savoring the tender meat and warm bread as the kitchen staff bustled, their offerings a steady stream of comfort after his grueling ride.

When he finished, he waved a hand, his gesture lazy. "Clear it," he said, his voice soft with contentment, a rare ease in his posture.
The maids swept in, their hands deft as they cleared the table, vanishing as quickly as they'd come, leaving only Anna and Leylin in the room's quiet.
"I see you're managing things very nicely," Leylin said, his tone warm with a tone of appreciation lighting his words. "Even at night, everyone is working effortlessly."
"It's my duty, my lord," Anna replied, her voice soft but steady, a quiet pride underscoring her deference, her bow deepening slightly.
Leylin stood, crossing to a stone wall where a statue of a coiled serpent stood sentinel. He pulled it, a low click echoing as a secret entrance yawned open, its darkness beckoning.
"Stay here," he told Anna as he stepped inside alone, the door sliding shut behind him. His fingers danced across hidden runes, activating security measures with a low hum.
"Velo custodia!" he intoned, his voice resonant with intent, and an invisible protective barrier shimmered into place, sealing the room from the outside world. If Feng Meng's disaster when advancing to Rank 1 Warlock was repeated, it would kill all his household, hence he double fortified the runes.
In the neatly maintained basement, lit by glowing crystals embedded in the walls, Leylin set to work. He drew a layer of mysterious spell formation on the floor, his hands steady but reverent, vulture bone dust chalk tracing runes that writhed like tiny snakes, slithering toward a scarlet-red light that pulsed at the edges.
The light crisscrossed, weaving a complex spell formation, its glow casting eerie shadows across his face. At its center stood a pure black stone platform, its surface marred with knife-cut scratches forming a strange, hypnotic pattern.
"Perfect," he breathed, awe threading his voice as he stepped back, heart pounding with anticipation.
"A.I. Chip, show my stats," he commanded, his voice firm, a flicker of pride swelling as he awaited the familiar report.
[Leylin Farlier: Grand Knight. Level 3 Acolyte. Summons (8)—Great Withering Mankestre, Black Horrall Snake, Black Steed, Level 3 Acolyte (Bear-Modification), Level 3 Acolyte (Fire spell, unnamed), Level 3 Acolyte (Torash), Level 3 Acolyte (Saurun), Level 3 Acolyte (Rune and curse spell, unnamed). Strength: 8.5, Agility: 7.1, Vitality: 7.0, Spiritual Force: 16.8. Magical Power: 16. Status: Healthy.] The A.I. Chip's voice echoed in his mind, crisp and unwavering, and Leylin's lips curved into a satisfied grin, his chest swelling with the weight of his power.

Back at the academy, after using the A.I. Chip to analyze the Kemoyin's Pupil meditation technique completely, Leylin had begun to adjust his own meditation technique and practice the high-grade meditation technique.
The Kemoyin's Pupil meditation technique that he had obtained had a total of three levels. With each increase in level, the technique would automatically advance the Warlock's rank. His body had very few impurities within his spiritual force, because it hadn't been boosted in the past by potions, which enhanced the process of meditation.
As an acolyte, it was the foundation on the path toward being a Magus. The more solid one's foundation was, the further one could walk down the path of a Magus in the future. As for now, under the Kemoyin's Pupil meditation technique's influence, his spiritual force was continuously being purified, heading toward a better development.
"Summon!" Leylin called out, his voice ringing with authority, a surge of power coursing through him as he invoked his arsenal. Great Withering Mankestre materialized, its spectral form coiling with menace. Black Horrall Snake hissed, its obsidian scales glinting. The Bear-Modified Acolyte loomed, claws bared; the Fire Spell Acolyte glowed with ember-red light; Torash crackled with lightning; Saurun's shadowed claws flexed; and the Rune and Curse Acolyte shimmered with arcane sigils.
"Stand guard," Leylin ordered, his tone unyielding, trust in their strength steadying his heart as they took position around the chamber.
Leylin sat cross-legged before the formation, the cold stone grounding him as he closed his eyes, sinking into meditation.
"Focus," he whispered, his voice a quiet vow, calm washing over him like a tide. The A.I. Chip hummed, running simulations—[Bloodline integration: 92% viability. Serenity Potion stability: 87%. Knight Path optimization: 83%]—its data a lifeline as he adjusted his breathing, aligning body and mind.
For hours, he fine-tuned, his thoughts a whirl of calculations and instinct, the air growing heavy with his focus. He rose periodically, rechecking the formation, fingers tracing each rune with reverent care, their serpentine dance a mirror to his own ambition.
"No mistakes," he murmured, determination steeling his voice as he tested the scarlet light's pulse, the black platform's grooves, every detail perfect under his scrutiny.
"It's finally time," Leylin said, his voice steady, a quiet marvel softening its edges as he stood, heart thudding with a serene certainty. "I never thought I'd be so calm when it's really time to ascend." The words hung in the air, a confession to the empty room, his steps light with an unexpected peace.
He walked toward the center of the scarlet formation, sitting down on the black stone platform. The black stone platform was made of bright black stones. A feeling of chilliness emanated through Leylin's skin, giving him goosebumps that prickled with both dread and excitement.
Leylin picked up a black dagger, the tip of the blade giving off a sharp coldness to it, its edge gleaming like a promise of transformation.
Leylin took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly with resolve. "Here we go," he whispered, and cut himself on his body.
Pu! Blood gushed out, hot and vivid, pain flaring sharp and bright. His teeth clenched as a mysterious sequence guided his hand, the black dagger beginning to cut all over his body. Every time the black dagger drew across Leylin's body, it would leave a bloody wound from where blood continuously dripped, each slice a step closer to destiny.
At the very end, from his stomach to his forehead, there was a mystical triangular-shaped rune on Leylin's body. The blood that poured forth continuously from his skin looked extremely eerie and mysterious, a crimson map of his sacrifice.
Di Da! Di Da! The blood that flowed down from his body was collected by the grooves on the black stone platform, beginning to converge while following the grooves, and flowed toward the formation below the platform.
Bang! Under the influence of the blood, the scarlet spell formation radiated a dozen times brighter. The powerful flash of light brought forth a strong energy wave, which continuously radiated to the four walls of the room, its pulse a heartbeat that echoed Leylin's own, a symphony of power and purpose trembling in the air.