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One Week Later…
The town of Agrabad was humid, loud, and more chaotic than Merlin preferred. Children ran through the dirt roads barefooted, smoke billowed from the forges, and a marvelous castle sat at the top of this territory.
Merlin adjusted his simple garments, a week of travel and surviving off fish had sharpened his magical control, which allowed him to experiment with magic theory.
He needed a bath and a ride. Preferably in that order.
His train of through was interrupted due to a sudden sound.
"Nice book, traveler. It's unlike anything I've ever seen." said a gruff voice from behind him.
He turned around.
Five men stood behind him, ragged armor and knives drawn. Bandits.
"Ay boss how much do you think it would sell for?" said one of the men.
The biggest bandit smirked.
"A fine penny."
The leader turned his attention back to Merlin.
Grinning, while waving around a chipped dagger.
"Be a good lad and hand it over. I wouldn't want to hurt your face pretty boy.
Merlin glanced at the men unimpressed.
"You lot must be suicidal."
His eyes turned black.
"Shut it!" Screamed a bandit, while lunging at him with two small knives.
Before the blades reached him, Merlin flicked two fingers, whispering.
"Aero Signa"
A sharp gust of wind exploded from his palm, twisting into a mini cyclone, launching the thief into the side of a cabbage cart. The impact sent vegetables flying, and the others froze. Through the week of wandering around he unlocked wind magic.
One bandit shuddered.
"He's a magici—," he tried to warn his members.
Instead of giving them time to recuperate and plan he instantly rushed them.
"Aero Signa"
Now raising both hands he conjured a larger blast of focused wind magic.
Before any of the bandits could react a large blast of wind flung the rest of the bandits into the same cabbage cart as their companion.
He dusted his hands.
"Thanks for the warm-up."
He stripped them of their coins, weapons, outfits, and left them in their trousers. A few stunned bystanders snickered but quickly turned away once he glanced in their direction.
After selling his plunder, Merlin began to walk towards the nearest inn.
The crooked lantern inn was dim and filled with the stench of ale, smoke, and sweat. A few old men played tiles in the corner, and a bard strummed lazily in another.
Merlin dropped some coins on the bar's counter. "Any ferries headed toward this area?"
The innkeeper squinted at him before examining his map. "Maybe. You'll want to talk to Nabu. He was on the last voyage that managed to make it to the island. You can find him at the blacksmith."
Merlin nodded and thanked the man.
He turned around prepared to leave—
then paused.
A think book sat on a dusty shelf beside the bar. He pulled it free.
"The Great Adventure of Sinbad."
The ink cover bore a stylized image of a grinning, shirtless man with a curved sword and golden aura. Merlin smirked.
"Guess you really were the start of it all, huh?"
He tucked it into his coat.
As he walked toward the exit, the door slammed open.
A nobleman strode in, dressed in gaudy blue robes and escorted by two guards. He stank of perfume, arrogance, and entitlement. The lively atmosphere of the bar diminished instantly. Behind him limped a young woman —bare-footed, collared, and bruised.
The noble barked something in slurred Parthevian. When the girl tripped on her chains, he raised a hand prepared to strike.
Crack.
A hand grabbed his wrist mid-swing. The noble turned, furious.
"Unhand me, peasant."
Merlin didn't flinch, but instead his gaze sharpened. The violet Rukh surrounding him shimmered faintly as his grip tightened.
The noble looked up at the peasant who dared to actually challenge his authority. As he met this black haired youth gaze he became even more furious.
This kid was handsome.
Merlin used his all seeing eye.
[Scanning Target…]
Name: Farhan ibn Kaseem
Age: 34
Race: Human
Origin: Parthevia (Noble Class – Merchant Bloodline)
Titles: Regional Lord of Agrabad
Emotions: Hostile | Insecure | Threatened
Combat Proficiency: Low-tier swordsman (Non-magical)
Thoughts: "I will have his head!"
Merlin's eyes narrowed.
The scan confirmed what he had already suspected—this man held power not because of strength, but because of fear. A bully draped in silk.
Farhan yanked his arm back and snarled, "Do you have any idea of who I am?"
"I do now," Merlin said flatly. "And I don't care."
The room froze. Chairs creaked as patrons held their breath. The bard, however began playing a song that Merlin swore was battle music.
Farhan snapped his fingers.
The guards sprang into action, steel drawn.
The girl quickly shifted behind Merlin. Which didn't go unnoticed by him.
Merlin didn't move. The gremoire at his side pulsed faintly.
"Aero Signa"
Two fingers pointed at both guards. The quick blast of wind momentarily caused the guards to be off balance.
This was enough for Merlin. Using wind to enhance his movement. He quickly appeared in front of one of the guards kicking him in the side. The other regained his balance and quickly slashed at Merlin.
Merlin side stepped and delivered a powerful blow to the man's head causing the man to faint.
Farhan stumbled backward, eyes wide. He began to stammer.
"Wait—wait! I'm a noble! You'll pay for this with your life—"
Merlin walked toward him. Calm. Cold.
Farhan scrambled to stand, drawing a curved dagger that gleamed with ceremonial gold plating, but little real wear.
Before he could swing it, Merlin grabbed his arm and twisted. Bone cracked. Farhan screamed.
He collapsed onto the floor.
The men spectating the fight shuddered instinctively.
With a gust of wind behind it, Merlin's heel crashed downward—right between Farhan's legs.
A strangled, high-pitched wheeze burst from the noble's lips before he collapsed like a sack of flour, twitching on the ale-stained floorboards.
The room stayed dead silent. Even the bard had stopped mid-strum this time.
Merlin exhaled and adjusted his sleeves.
"Now that's punishment fitting for a dog."
He turned, ready to leave, but paused at the
doorway.
His gaze flicked to the girl.
She stood frozen, trembling, one hand hovering near her collar. Her lip quivered, and her knees seemed moments from buckling. But her eyes—green and wide—had locked onto Merlin with something between disbelief and hope.
He gestured slightly with his chin.
"You coming?"
The girl blinked. Then, hesitantly, she stepped over Farhan's body and limped forward, her collar still clinking with each motion. Merlin noticed the raw red mark circling her neck.
He extended a hand—not in pity, but in invitation.
She took it.
As they stepped out into the open streets of Agrabad, whispers began to swell behind them.
Merlin glanced at his gremoire.
System log:
Spell Proficiency Increased: Aero Signa (Lv. 3)
Spell Created: Wind Step – Temporarily enhances speed and agility using concentrated wind flow.
As they walked down the cobbled street, the girl finally spoke.
"…I'm Morgana."
He nodded once. "Merlin."
"I don't have anywhere to go."
He glanced up at the castle in the distance, then at the skies beyond it—where a tower of stone and myth was said to rise in a distant jungle.
"Good," he replied. "I'm headed toward a place no one's returned from. A dungeon."
She looked at him like he was mad.
He didn't deny it.