Just as Leo awoke, a flurry of tasks awaited him.
First on the list, visiting a noble's house in response to an official invitation. The purpose was to collect a formal summons to next week's banquet—an exclusive gathering for Magisters and noble houses alike.
Next, he was to acquire supplies from the underground market, including a tailored suit fit for highborn company.
Finally, he had to deliver a sealed letter from his master to the High Council. The letter's secrecy puzzled him—if it weren't important, why not send it by magic?
As Leo stepped out and walked down the wide street, a chill crept down his spine—the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The sensation was all too familiar. Someone was watching him. He'd been feeling it for the past two weeks.
Twice already, he'd caught glimpses of a cloaked figure tailing him—confirmed with his vision spells.
Without breaking stride, Leo subtly activated the spell again and glanced over his shoulder. From the upper window of a house, a shadow ducked out of sight the moment his gaze swept that way.
A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips. He turned forward again and kept walking, as if nothing had happened.
After completing the council errand, Leo made his way across the city to the Kroll estate. The Kroll family was a powerful lineage—wealthy, politically connected, and home to not one but two archmages, both A-rank or higher.
The mansion was a fortress of elegance: tall iron gates, pristine white stone, and banners bearing the family crest fluttering in the breeze. Upon arrival, the guards at the gate wordlessly recognized his identity and escorted him to the main entrance, where a butler in a crisp uniform promptly announced his presence.
As Leo stepped into the grand foyer, a man descended the marble staircase, hand in hand with a graceful woman. Both were dressed in noble finery—subtle, elegant, but unmistakably expensive. They approached him with dignity, and all three exchanged small bows.
"Mr. Black," the man greeted, his voice measured and cultured. "It is an honor to welcome you to House Kroll."
Leo returned the gesture with polite confidence. "The honor is mine, Lord Kroll. Thank you for receiving me."
Lady Kroll inclined her head slightly, her tone smooth as silk. "And how is Lady Clayden faring these days? I trust she remains in good health."
"She does indeed," Leo replied. "She sends her regards and regrets that she could not attend in person."
"How gracious of her," Lady Kroll said with a soft smile. "You represent her well, Mr. Black."
"Shall we speak more comfortably?" Lord Kroll offered, gesturing toward a sitting room off the main hall.
"Gladly," Leo replied.
He followed them into a tastefully decorated drawing room—walls lined with darkwood bookshelves, a silver tea set already arranged atop a polished table. They each took a seat around the low table as a servant poured tea with practiced precision and then quietly left.
"You must forgive the ceremony," Lord Kroll began as he reached into a small side drawer and produced a thick envelope sealed with a golden emblem. "But when Lady Clayden honors our family by attending a gathering, we must be sure the invitation is placed in worthy hands."
Leo accepted the envelope with both hands. "She'll appreciate the gesture, my lord. I'll deliver it to her personally."
"And we expect to see you as well," Lady Kroll added. "Our family is hosting, after all. It would be a missed opportunity not to speak with such promising young talent."
"I will attend," Leo said. "Though I still find noble gatherings... instructive."
"That's a very diplomatic way of saying exhausting," Lord Kroll said with a wry smile. "Rest assured, you'll not be the least experienced man in the room."
"Still," Leo said, "I'm trying to ensure I don't reflect poorly on my master."
"You already reflect well on her by understanding the importance of appearances," Lady Kroll said, sipping her tea. "Most young men would swagger or stumble."
"Your master has trained you with care," Lord Kroll added. "And she's not one to waste her time."
Leo nodded in thanks, then glanced briefly at the sealed envelope resting on the table. "If I may ask, how many noble houses are expected to attend?"
"A dozen, officially," Lord Kroll said, "though you'll likely see more. Some of them wouldn't miss a political gathering if their lives depended on it."
"And the Council?"
"They'll be watching more than speaking," Lady Kroll said with a knowing smile. "Banquets like these are less about food and more about reading the room."
Leo gave a small smile. "Then I'll watch closely."
After a few more polite exchanges, Leo rose to take his leave. Lord Kroll stood with him.
"Give our regards to Lady Clayden," he said. "And know that House Kroll always keeps its doors open to those who carry themselves with honor."
"I will," Leo said, bowing once more. "Thank you again for your hospitality."
Leo was guided out by several servants. Once he was far enough from the mansion's gate, he exhaled deeply.
Noble formalities always drained him.
Still, there was no time to linger—now he had to head to the underground market.
…
From a high window in the Kroll mansion, Archmage Hulda Kroll stood silently, her gaze fixed on the young man departing through the garden path.
The moment he had stepped into the house, she had felt it—a strange pressure in the air, something subtle, but unmistakably potent. Now, as he walked away, that sensation lingered like a memory just out of reach.
"Who is that man?" she asked, not taking her eyes off him.
The servant beside her followed her gaze. "That is Mr. Victor Black, my lady. Student of the Grand Magister, Lady Alexia Clayden."
"Victor Black…" she repeated, her voice quiet.
"Is something the matter, Lady Hulda?"
She paused before answering. "No. Only… the mana I sensed from him—it's something I've only felt a handful of times. Once, in the Shadowlands, when we faced the dark creatures."
The servant stiffened slightly, his eyes following the figure disappearing down the stone path. "Shall I inform Lord Kroll?"
"No," Hulda said. "Not yet. For now, I'll keep an eye on him myself."
She remained at the window until he vanished from sight, her expression thoughtful, unreadable.
…
Leo walked through the winding alleys of the undercity, a few cloth bags already swinging from his arm. Only one item remained on his list: a black crystal.
He found the final shop nestled between two shuttered stalls, its crooked wooden sign barely hanging above the door. As he stepped inside, the musty scent of incense, wax, and old stone clung to the air like fog.
The shopkeeper was deep in conversation with a cloaked customer near the counter. Leo stayed back, quietly waiting. At the same time, he activated his vision spells, letting his vision adjust to magical traces. His eyes flicked to the man's back—and as he suspected, the aura was unmistakable. It was the same figure who had been following him.
Eventually, the shopkeeper glanced over. "Can I help you?"
"I'm here for the black crystal."
"Oh, yes. It's in the back. Do me a favor—grab it yourself, I'm a bit tied up right now."
Leo gave a short nod and moved toward the rear shelves. The shop was cramped, its narrow aisles lined with crooked wooden drawers and glowing artifacts that buzzed faintly with residual magic. Dust hung in the air like old breath.
Near the back wall, behind a hanging veil of charm-beads that clicked softly as he passed through, he saw it: the black crystal. It sat alone on a small metal stand, pulsing faintly.
Even from a distance, he could sense the wrongness in the air around it. A subtle wave of heat shimmered off its surface—an enchantment, tightly wound and deliberately masked. He narrowed his eyes.
A trap.
Then—he heard it. A heartbeat. Too close. He turned sharply, already prepared.
The man lunged from the shadows, snatching the crystal. A flash of magic ignited the trap, and a shimmering portal tore open behind them. Leo barely had time to react before both were pulled through, vanishing from the shop.
…
They hit the stone floor hard. Leo rolled with the momentum and struck out with his leg, landing a sharp kick into the man's gut. The stranger staggered back, hitting the wall with a grunt.
Both of them got to their feet, facing one another. Dust swirled in the dim, purple-lit chamber around them—some kind of abandoned underground sanctum.
Leo dusted off his coat. "Can I help you?" he asked dryly.
The man straightened. "You can give back what's mine."
"You'll have to be more specific."
The stranger reached up and pulled back his hood.
Leo narrowed his eyes. It took a second, but recognition came with a rush of old emotion.
"…Mr. Clone. It's an honor to finally meet you in person."
"The fact that you know that name means you attended the meeting. Mr. Sage should have discovered you. Why did he let you walk free?"
Leo smirked. "I'm a good actor." He then tilted his head. "Still, I thought you died in Flesa City. How are you alive?"
"I switched places with one of my clones just before the final strike," the man said flatly. "which cost me everything including my domain. But it bought me time."
Leo looked at his hand, where the mark still pulsed faintly beneath the skin. "So, you gave me this mark just to take it back later. Interesting strategy."
The man took a step forward. "Then now that you know, kindly return it."
Leo didn't move. "What's the rush? I've got plenty of questions. Let's start with an easy one: how long have you been following me?"
"Long enough to plan your execution. So unless you want to die here, hand over the mark."
Leo began circling slowly. The man mirrored him, keeping distance, waiting.
"You've planned my murder," Leo said calmly. "Which means you know my rank. You needed preparation. That tells me something important—when you lost your domain, you lost most of your power with it."
"I still have enough to kill you. No one will find you in this place. No help is coming."
Leo stopped and smiled coldly. "So no one's watching?" His smile faded, replaced by fury. "You tore through my city. You injured my coach. And you dared to think I'd let that go."
He raised his hand, and a swirl of blood appeared in his palm. "It's time someone ended you—for good."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mr. Clone asked, his voice calm, almost amused.
Leo smirked. "You were going to try and kill me either way." Then his smile sharpened. "Besides, you're not the only one who came prepared."
Dark energy gathered at his palm, and Thorn, the Heart of Nemesis, surged into being—its dark hilt resting smoothly in his hand.
Mr. Clone narrowed his eyes. "So be it."
A wave of mana pulsed from him, warping the air. The room buzzed with tension. They locked eyes, unmoving. The silence stretched, thick with pressure. Then, like a lightning strike, Leo charged.
Mr. Clone raised his blade to block—but Thorn cleaved straight through it. The blade sliced through the man behind it as well… until the body turned to stone and shattered into dust.
From that dust, another Mr. Clone emerged, already moving. He seized Leo by the head and slammed him into the ground. A circle of runes lit up on his palm—and exploded. Smoke flooded the chamber.
Mr. Clone grinned through the haze. Until the dust settled. There was no body, just blood—and then, a hand burst from the smoke and gripped his forehead.
It was Leo's turn. With a crack, he slammed Mr. Clone to the floor. Flames coiled in Leo's hand. But just as he was about to release the spell, Mr. Clone vanished—his body replaced by a nearby stone block. The fireball fizzled into sparks.
Leo stood, brushing off his coat with a smirk. "I'm a Mr. Clone myself."