Seated on his favorite couch in house 207, Robin studied the Mute standing silently before him. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his tone measured yet piercing.
"I don't know how you ended up in the Dark Ruins, nor why you lingered so long in such a place of death. But for someone who has learned cultivation techniques and even reached the fifth level, you clearly come from a background of some worth.
You see, I paid a heavy price for you, and I don't intend to let that go to waste. However… I'll make you an offer. I'll grant you one month. Finish any unfinished business you may still have, then return to me. But I'll give you this warning in advance—if you are not standing before me within a month, I'll report you as a runaway slave. From that moment, every authority will hunt you down, and your death will be certain. What do you say?"
The Mute's eyes widened. He had expected nothing good from his new master, certainly not such generosity. Even with the threat attached, this was an offer few nobles would ever make. After all, the slave purchase contract was in Robin's hands, and the merchant still held the original sale contract. A complaint from either party would unleash armies across borders to hunt him down. The laws protecting the slave trade were absolute, designed to keep the trade flourishing without disruption.
If slaves could flee easily, or if they could rise in rebellion, the trade would have collapsed long ago. Instead, brutal laws and specialized military units dedicated to slave hunts kept the system intact. If a slave ever killed his master, the punishment was merciless—the culprit, every slave belonging to that household, and even their families would be executed, often impaled on wooden stakes as a warning.
Without hesitation, the Mute dropped to his knees, hands pressed to the ground, and nodded firmly. It was an opportunity he had dreamed of, but never thought possible once he had fallen into chains.
"Go," Robin waved him off. "Be back before me in one month, or face the consequences yourself."
The Mute nodded again, then turned and bolted away, afraid his new master might rescind the offer.
"What do you think he'll do in that month, Father?" Caesar asked, his eyes following the young man's bare back as he vanished into the streets.
"I don't know," Robin said flatly. "Perhaps he'll visit family. Perhaps he'll hunt down the one who cut out his tongue. Whatever it is, I want his mind clear when I begin to use him."
Caesar frowned, confused. "What does his state of mind have to do with anything? Isn't he just here to help with your research?"
"…That's none of your business. And secondly—" Robin suddenly leapt up, his foot landing squarely on Caesar's backside—"I told you never to call me 'Father'! Not even when we're alone!!"
Three weeks slipped by swiftly. During that time, Robin broke through to the second level of energy cultivation, while continuing his relentless study of the Major Heavenly Law of Fire. His research was finally beginning to bear fruit.
He had spent days analyzing the ever-changing patterns of flame. For instance, fire burned differently on dry wood than on wood still heavy with moisture. It burned differently still on the trunks of plants that stored high concentrations of the Light element. The fire didn't simply consume the material—it clashed with the other heavenly paths embedded within it, attempting to burn them away as well. That collision produced distortions, strange overlaps, and chaotic patterns within the flame.
The real question was this: how could he produce a pure flame, one free of interference, in order to study the true essence of the Fire Law? After all, there was no such thing as independent fire in nature. Fire always needed fuel—something to ignite. Even cultivators of the fire path had to burn their own inner energy to call it forth. This puzzle remained the obstacle in his way.
As Robin sat deep in thought, drafting plans for the coming months, the door creaked open. A tall, striking young man entered. His long black hair hung loose, his simple short clothes were soaked in blood, and a jagged stab mark was visible across the chest of his shirt. Yet his body bore no wound. It was obvious these garments had been stripped from a corpse.
Robin glanced briefly at the Mute's new attire, then turned back to the dancing flames before him. "I see you've finished your unfinished business."
The young man moved silently, stepping forward to stand behind Robin in quiet acknowledgment.
"Do you have a name you'd prefer me to call you? You can write it, or point to something to explain." Robin poked at the grilled snake sizzling on the fire, adjusting it slightly.
The youth hesitated, then shook his head. Robin couldn't tell if that meant he had no name, or if he despised the one he once bore. Either way, it didn't matter. "Fine. From now on, your name will be… Theo." He plucked the name from the air without a second thought.
"Go outside and bring me a handful of wood from every pile. Then head to the kitchen—you'll find papers, and the carcasses of beasts and animals. Cut them apart and stack them according to type, then bring them here. Oh, and while you're at it, grab some salt. This snake smells delicious."
Robin rattled off a string of commands. Theo remembered them all, and went about his work.
Minutes later, everything was prepared, and Theo returned to stand behind Robin, awaiting further orders. But Robin glanced back with irritation. "What are you doing here? I want privacy! …Caesar, come here!"
"What is it, fath—… big brother?" Caesar asked, leaping down from the upper floor.
"Take Theo with you. Give him a proper bath. Then take him to the market, buy him clothes of his own, and let him choose a weapon. When you're finished, teach him my cultivation technique and guide him personally through the next levels."
Both Caesar and Theo froze in shock.
This was not treatment befitting a slave. Caesar still believed Theo's purpose was to assist Robin's research, so why invest in him like this? And Theo himself was stunned by the generosity—something he had never known. More astonishing still, Robin had tasked a twelve-year-old boy, still only at the second level, to instruct him, a seventeen-year-old already at the fifth!
"Why are you still standing there like fools? Haven't you heard your orders? Move!" Robin scooped several burning logs into his arms and hurled them at the pair one by one, driving them out of sight.
But what was casual for Robin nearly shattered Theo's mind. The flaming wood hadn't scorched his master's arms in the slightest. Not a single mark marred his clothes.
When Theo turned his gaze to Caesar, he found him laughing, not shocked in the least, as though this were perfectly normal. Theo's entire perception of the two shifted.
These aren't just two children flaunting a powerful slave, he thought. No… they are something far more dangerous.