Chapter 59: Visit
Zera's voice answered smoothly.
[Positive spirit essence, purified. Keep using Lotus Bloom. At this rate, you'll reach peak spirit in seven years.]
"Seven years? That's… too fast." Raven frowned. "Is that really because of it being Rare Rank? How do you calculate the rate?"
[Rare techniques grant 0.08 to 0.1 spirit per day.]
"And Uncommon?"
[0.04 at best.]
"And Common?"
[0.01. Sometimes 0.009. A lifetime of struggle.]
Raven nodded slowly. "Then I'm not unlucky after all."
Zera didn't comment.
Raven left the bedroom and headed toward the back of the mansion. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-soaked earth.
Beyond the compound gate stood three buildings.
Two modest two-storied structures—simple, clean, designed as quarters.
And the third—larger, rectangular, tall enough that its ceiling arched like the inside of a cathedral. Five vast training halls lay inside.
Raven headed in.
He moved from group to group, observing quietly.
Augustus and Westin trained under Reece's watch, their movements sharp and aggressive. Both had grown into official Walkers, their rogue skills clean and focused.
Further ahead, Marcellus guided young swordsmen through drills. His blade flashed in swift arcs—precise, disciplined.
Raven's monocle flickered.
Spirit Power: 185
Zera murmured:
[He'll reach Expert in three years.]
"And Jacob?"
[Too many chores. No time to cultivate. If he isolates himself, he'll reach that stage in three to four years. If not… use a Shackle Potion. But there's a fifty-percent chance he becomes a monster.]
Raven's jaw tightened slightly.
He'd survived that gamble himself only because his luck had intervened. A second slower and Casper might have devoured him.
Not everyone has a cheat code, he thought.
He moved on.
All five graduates had become official Walkers. Their progress warmed something inside him—a quiet, growing pride.
The spearmanship room fell silent the moment he entered.
"Good morning, Teacher!"
Three students bowed deeply.
Raven smiled. He'd spent a year drilling spear basics into them—with Zera's guidance shaping every lesson.
Lorelai stood out immediately. Her wavy blond hair tied back, her posture steady, an invisible aura coiling faintly around her. Her growth had been nothing short of shocking.
"Continue," Raven said, stepping forward. "Albert—your footwork is wrong again. The spear should move faster than your feet. And your left side is open enough for someone to throw a shoe through."
Albert sputtered but nodded quickly.
"Brynn, loosen your body. Watch."
Raven summoned Frozen Ender into his hands. Frost swirled around the spearhead.
"Focus on my feet—not the spear."
He shifted into stance.
"What am I about to do?"
"Stab," Brynn said.
"No." Raven pointed at Albert.
"Slash?"
"Wrong again." He looked at Lorelai.
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "A feint."
Raven grinned. "Correct."
He stepped forward—thrusting, withdrawing, sweeping in one fluid motion.
"See how the misdirection works? Even a heartbeat of hesitation is enough to kill an opponent."
They watched with rapt focus.
"Practice. Slow first. Speed later."
He stayed until their movements grew smoother, then left the hall.
In the next hall, Felicity lectured Fiona and Sam on archery theory.
Fiona's arms had firmed with muscle; her form had grown solid and reliable. Her shots were straighter than ever.
Sam… was Sam.
Arrows wobbled. Missed. Occasionally fell before reaching the target.
But his predictions—wind, angle, trajectory—were perfect.
A brilliant mind stuck in the wrong craft.
A Potion of Insight might awaken his true path.
But Raven refused to push him ahead unfairly.
He has to earn it.
…
In the last hall, nine students sat cross-legged in deep meditation. Selene sat among them, eyes closed, aura steady as a moonlit lake.
Her spirit power had long reached its bottleneck. Three more spell models were already completed—Spatial Storage, Shadow Slash, Nightwalker's Grace.
Five years and she'd rise to Radiance.
Raven's gaze drifted over the others—each one pushing toward their own potential.
He let out a slow breath.
Edgar's group had grown quicker than Raven expected. Their spirit power hovered near ten points now, spell models taking shape one after another. Rebecca stood out the most—five models, all fully comprehended, her mind sharper than steel.
If she had a Rare-rank spirit technique, Raven thought, she'd already be knocking on Radiance.
He left the training halls behind and stepped into the mansion's main hall. Jacob and Quincy waited by the hearth, warming their hands against the crackling fire.
Both straightened the moment he entered.
"Greetings, My Lord!"
Jacob cleared his throat. "The price of the Mind of Insight potion… it's collapsed, My Lord. Just as you predicted."
Quincy added, "There's a rumor Sir Johnathan's disciple is attempting a Rank-2 version."
A faint smirk tugged at Raven's lips. "They're welcome to try. If it's Alchemist Johnathan himself, he might hit Rank-2 after a year or two of nonstop experimentation. Anyone else?" He shrugged lightly. "They'll need a century. Maybe more."
It wasn't arrogance. It was simply the truth—Rank-2 Insight potions required materials most alchemists didn't even know existed.
Raven leaned forward. "One last task. After that, you can train as long as you like."
Jacob stood straighter. "Say it, My Lord."
"Go to the capital. Meet Lady Judith. Deliver this personally." Raven produced a small sealed wooden box from thin air.
Both men stiffened.
"Lady Judith?" Jacob whispered. "The Legendary Alchemist?"
Raven nodded and handed him the box. "Book the same mansion at Crown's Tavern we used before. Stay there for a week. Someone will send an invitation. And before you leave, visit the Royal Bank manager in Giaris City. Inform him of your trip."
Neither understood the connection, but they didn't question him. Their trust ran deeper than their confusion. They bowed and left with the box held carefully in Jacob's hands.
Zera's voice whispered in his mind.
[What now?]
Thinking, Raven replied, eyes drifting to the ceiling.
A thought later, he called out, "Emanuel."
The young butler rushed from the kitchen, nearly skidding to a stop. "Did you call me, My Lord?"
Raven pulled a leather bag from his coat and placed it in Emanuel's hands. Gold clinked faintly. "I'll be out for a while. Handle everything until I return. There's a hundred gold inside—use it wisely."
"Yes, My Lord! And the next Spade council meeting?"
Raven blinked. "When is it?"
"End of February."
"Good." Raven stood and brushed off invisible dust from his coat. "If I'm not back, send Count Spade my apologies. Have Marcellus supervise the training while I'm gone."
"Yes, My Lord." Emanuel hesitated when he noticed Raven heading for the door. "Shall I ready a carriage?"
"No." Raven waved him off, slipped outside the mansion gate, and walked down Bristol Street. The morning air smelled of chimney smoke and fresh bread. A hansom carriage waited at the corner.
The coachman tipped his hat. Raven tossed him three silvers.
"Azmar Railway Station."
"Hop in, lad," the driver said, flicking away a cigarette.
The horse lurched forward, hooves clipping across cobblestone. About half an hour later, the carriage rolled to a stop before Azmar Station. Raven thanked the driver and joined the line snaking toward the ticket window.
A second-compartment ticket to Darkcross Town slid into his palm minutes later.
He boarded without complaint. Crowds were no burden to him.
Darkcross Town – Baron Alexander's Territory
21st December, Year 1421 – 7 A.M.
Cold morning light washed over the town as Raven stepped onto the street, breath visible in the crisp winter air. He stood still, staring at a small single-story house.
The house he'd lived in for almost fifteen years.
Two children chased each other through the yard. A blond woman swept the front steps. Their laughter fluttered through the air—carefree, warm, not his.
Someone else lives here now.
He thought about knocking, about seeing the neighbors who once knew him. He tightened his jaw instead.
If I show my face, I drag trouble to their doorstep. The newspapers already told the world too much.
He turned away and flagged down a stagecoach.
The ride through the bustling street felt surreal—like walking backward through memories. Market stalls, the town square, familiar cobblestone bends… until the carriage rolled into Nobles' Street.
"Fifty coppers, young man," the driver said.
Raven flicked him a silver coin. "Keep the change."
The man caught it with practiced ease and gave a half bow.
Raven crossed the yard of a two-story house, unlocked the simple gate, and knocked twice on the door.
It cracked open. A woman in her late thirties leaned out—blond hair, tired eyes, familiar scent of ink and chalk.
Her breath hitched.
"Raven?"
She looked wildly up and down the street, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him inside.
"What in the hells are you doing here?" she whispered harshly. "Do you have any idea—any idea—what I went through when I learned you were a prince? And that you killed Sir Gavin? The papers said you walked into a courtroom and—" She clamped her mouth shut, exhaling sharply. "Never mind!"
She locked the door and pressed her back against it, trying to slow her breathing.
Raven waited patiently. "May I sit?"
She blinked, suddenly aware she'd scolded royalty. "Y-Yes! Forgive my rudeness, Your Highness."
Raven settled onto the ornate sofa. "Teacher Elizabeth… thank you. For everything back then. I would've lost far more without your help."
She sat opposite him, expression tightening. "We'll talk about the past later. Why are you here? Do you know the Royal Family's shadow agents are watching everyone tied to you? They're desperate. They're everywhere."
"I'm aware," Raven said calmly. "That's why I didn't visit the neighbors."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "Then why risk coming here? What are you plotting?"
Raven raised a hand.
A wooden box appeared in his palm, as if plucked from thin air. He held it out.
"A gift," he said. "For saving my life. For taking care of me during school."
She hesitated, then accepted it. "Well… I can't refuse my favorite student."
She opened the box slowly.
Inside lay two vials—one black as ink, one burning red—resting in soft sponge wrap.
Her breath left her body.
"Potions…? What are these?"
"Intermediate Affinity potions," Raven said with a hint of a smile. "Darkness and Fire."
Color drained from her face. "These—these are impossible to obtain! Not even nobles in the Mainland can—Raven, I can't accept—" Her fingers refused to release the box. "This is too precious."
"Relax. The Wizard Union has been selling affinity potions quietly. As long as you have gold, they're not impossible to buy." He paused. "You deserve them."
Understanding flickered in her eyes. She gently touched a golden bracelet, activating its storage space, and slipped the vials inside as if handling newborn stars.
"Then… I'll accept," she whispered.
Elizabeth slipped the wooden box into her spatial ring, her expression composed again. Raven adjusted his monocle, runes flickering faintly as he examined her status.
The numbers sharpened into view.
[Name: Elizabeth Octavia Merlino]
Age: 38
Nationality: Zenith Empire (Arcane Mist Empire)
Affiliation: Darkcross Knight Training School — Official Member of Velvet Eclipse
Class: Acolyte Wizard (7th Circle)
Health: Normal
Attributes:
Strength 7.5
Agility 7.0
Vitality 7.5
Luck 2.0
Spirit 19.9
Class Skills:
Shadow Conceal, Fireball, Shadow Steps, Dark Bolt, Fire Shield, Eye of Darkness, Ember Whip
Additional Skills:
Intermediate Swordsmanship
Cypher Eyes
???????
Affinities:
Shadow — Low
Fire — Low
Sword — Intermediate
Raven's brows lifted slightly.
I thought my Spirit was too low to see everything. Guess not… She really isn't ordinary.
Elizabeth caught the shift in his gaze. Her fingers tapped lightly against her knee.
"So?" she asked. "What's the real reason you came?"
Raven sank back into the sofa, eyes settling on her with quiet weight.
"I want to know about the Mainland. Why the Wizards came to Ivory Island. What their actual purpose is. And Velvet Eclipse—what does it truly want?"
Zera's voice whispered within him.
[Isn't Velvet Eclipse just an intelligence network?]
I thought so too. Until I learned a Rank-3 Wizard from the Alliance is secretly poaching talents for them. That's not a simple spy group.
Elizabeth's eyes widened at the question. "Why do you want to know?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Raven replied calmly. "They're not visitors—they're invaders. And I'm a prince of this land. I have every right to know who walks on my soil."
Elizabeth let out a slow exhale. "It's… nearly impossible for anyone from the Mainland to reveal details about it. Before we came here, we swore an o—"
Her words cut off as she suddenly turned toward a small black box resting on a side table. Her expression hardened.
She stood abruptly, crossed the room, and opened the box. Inside lay a strange wristwatch—metallic, intricate, rune-etched. She clasped it around her left wrist.
Then she murmured in a language Raven didn't recognize.
"Activate Corecirclet four-five-three-five-five-three-two-five."
The air stirred.
A faint shimmer materialized above her shoulder—and an illusionary mouse appeared, glowing with soft blue light.
Zera let out a startled whisper.
[An artificial spirit?]
Raven stiffened. Even Mainland Wizards can create spirits? I thought—
[No. That's not a normal artificial spirit. Most likely… an Arcane Fragment.]
"An Arcane Fragment?" Raven muttered.