Three days had passed since Leo’s long-sought recognition finally came through. The E-rank card, now tucked securely in his pocket, symbolized his progress—just one step in a much larger journey. With it came a modest salary increase to 8 gold coins, a small but satisfying reward for his efforts. Leo often found himself reflecting on his growth: his physical stats had risen steadily to 95 points, and his mana had surged to 185, thanks to his relentless practice in illusion magic. Under Lavi''s guidance, he had mastered the basics of illusion and begun to understand the broader spectrum of magic, though he had yet to unlock any new spells. Undeterred, he had started experimenting with telekinesis on his own, eager to push his limits. Despite his advancing skills, his daily duties remained unchanged, a constant reminder of how far he still had to go.
After finishing his lesson with Lavi, Leo made his way to the storage room—a small, functional space that acted as both an armory and a quiet spot where he could collect his thoughts before heading out on patrol. Inside, as always, was Peter, standing among the rows of weapons and gear that lined the walls.
“Mr. Peter, when can I start my enchanting lessons?” Leo asked, his voice bouncing slightly in the enclosed space.
Peter glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “You forgot? You need to hit D-rank before that happens. Plus, your schedule’s packed until five. Where do you think you’ll find the time?”
Leo paused, scratching his chin for a second before nodding. “Right. Makes sense.”
Peter waved him off, not wasting any more words. Leo slipped into his patrol gear, the weight of the equipment now feeling more familiar, and headed for the door with a small sense of accomplishment.
Outside, Walden, Edric, and Aldred were waiting for him, their patrol gear in place. Without a word, they fell into line as he stepped out.
Edric, ever observant, was quick to comment. “You’re looking pretty cheerful today, Captain.”
Leo’s smile stayed in place. “Why wouldn’t I be? I just earned my E-rank badge.”
The news elicited a mix of astonishment and contemplation from his companions. Edric, after a moment’s thought, nodded in understanding. “It’s only logical. You’ve already bested an E-rank adversary; an E- rank or higher is well within your rights.”
As Edric’s words sank in, Walden and Aldred’s expressions shifted from shock to acknowledgment.
“It’s quite the feat, especially at your age—fifteen, isn’t it?” Walden mused aloud, only to receive a nudge from Aldred, a silent reminder of the weight of his words.
“Oh, I meant no disrespect, of course,” Walden hastily added.
Leo, unfazed, replied without missing a beat. “None taken.” His focus remained forward, his mind already on the path ahead.
After Leo’s routine patrol had concluded, marking the end of his official duties for the day. He retreated to the storage room, a space lined with the tools of his trade, and exchanged his uniform for civilian attire. With the day’s responsibilities behind him, he made his way home, his thoughts occupied with the anticipation of delving into a new book and honing his telekinetic skills.
Upon arrival, the familiar scents of cooking greeted him. In the kitchen, his mother and Rosie were engrossed in the preparation of dinner, their movements synchronized in a familial dance of culinary collaboration. After a quick change of clothes, Leo joined them, adding his hands to the effort. The meal that followed was a simple affair, filled with the quiet comfort of shared company.
Once the meal was finished, Leo retreated to the solitude of his room and picked up a book from his collection—Life of Animals—its title promising an exploration of the natural world. He settled in, losing himself in the pages that revealed the wonders of creatures great and small. But as the afternoon wore on, a wave of drowsiness washed over him, and he noticed the house had grown quiet; his family had likely succumbed to sleep.
It was then that an unexpected pain lanced through the back of his hand, jolting him from his half-asleep state. The book tumbled from his grasp as he inspected the source of the discomfort. There, emblazoned on his skin, was a mark—an hourglass ablaze with an ethereal fire.
“What in the world is this?” Leo muttered, a mix of confusion and alarm rising within him.
In an attempt to quell his burgeoning panic, he grasped his blue gem, its familiar coolness a balm to his fraying nerves. He reached out and activate his telepathy, seeking help from Rorin, who resided upstairs. But as he did so, his consciousness wavered, his surroundings dimming into nothingness.
When clarity returned, Leo found himself in an unfamiliar setting. Gone were the familiar walls of his room; instead, he was seated at a massive stone table, its surface cold and worn with the passage of time. The table was surrounded by nine sturdy stone chairs, each one identical in age and craftsmanship, their surfaces etched with ancient symbols that hinted at forgotten rituals. The atmosphere was heavy with an oppressive darkness, as if the very air surrounding them was saturated with an inky blackness that swallowed any hint of light.
His gaze swept over the assembly, taking in six other figures shrouded in swirling mist, their identities obscured by deep hoods and the fog that clung to them like a living entity. A glance down revealed he, too, was enveloped in a cloud of fog, the soft tendrils swirling around him, making him feel both concealed and vulnerable.
A surge of questions flooded his mind. ‘Where am I? Who are these shadowed figures?’ The mystery of his sudden displacement and the identities of his silent companions hung heavily in the air, a puzzle awaiting his unraveling.
Leo’s brief moment of stillness stretched into what felt like an eternity, each second expanding until time itself seemed to bend around him. The silence was finally broken by a voice, muffled and indistinct, as if it were struggling to be heard above the thick fog that enveloped them.
“Welcome, my friends, to another conclave of our order. As is our custom, let us commence with the fulfillment of promises made at our last gathering,” the figure intoned, the words resonating with an eerie authority that filled the space.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
One figure nodded in response, the outline of a cloak shifting as he produced a small pouch from its depths. The bag landed upon the ancient stone table with a dull thud, its contents shimmering into view before gracefully levitating across the table toward another figure hidden in the mist.
This second figure, a woman whose voice carried a commanding presence, inspected the contents with a discerning eye. “Mr. Crow, your obligation is hereby absolved,” she declared, her tone echoing with a spectral quality that sent shivers down Leo''s spine.
‘Mr. Crow?’ Leo leaned forward, his gaze intent. ‘They’re using a pseudonym. That means nobody knows the true identity of the other person.’ His mind raced, seeking every scrap of information he could gather from this cryptic exchange.
With the transaction concluded, the first figure resumed his role as the facilitator. “Now, let us proceed to the heart of our agenda.”
A pause ensued, filled with expectant glances, until one figure broke the stillness. “Rumors stir within the northern kingdom—talk of betrayal and treachery. Has anyone gleaned the truth of these whispers?” The room held its breath, awaiting a revelation.
All eyes turned to the woman known as Ms. Shadow, the same woman who got the bag from Mr. Crow, who after a contemplative silence, shared her scant intelligence. “The murmurs point to an S-rank individual, though their identity and actions remain cloaked in secrecy.”
As the assembly digested this information, another voice rose from the gathering. “I seek a green frog’s eye and a vial of its essence.”
Mr. Crow was quick to respond, “Such items reside within my collection. The price is 60 gold coins.”
Leo, a silent observer, could scarcely believe the sum. ‘Sixty gold coins?’
The agreement was struck with a nod. “Agreed. Let Mr. Sage bear witness to our accord,” the seeker affirmed, looking to the figure who had convened the meeting for his consent.
Leo watched the interplay of power and intrigue, a realization dawning upon him. ‘Mr. Sage holds sway over this meeting.’ The dynamics of the council were becoming clearer, and with it, the gravity of his own presence among them.
The conclusion of one matter gave way to the next, as Shadow took the lead. “Recent whispers speak of a skirmish in Flesa City. Does anyone hold knowledge of this event?”
Leo’s reaction to the mention of Flesa was a fleeting shock, a ripple of alarm that he quickly subdued. He had been vigilant since the meeting’s onset, acutely aware of the precariousness of his position—a misplaced word or prolonged silence could spell disaster. After a tense pause in which the room remained silent, he cleared his throat and ventured a response, ensuring his voice melded with the indistinct tones around him.
Mr. Crow’s gaze settled on him. “If memory serves, you were in proximity to that city, Mr. Clone.”
Leo internally scoffed at the moniker ‘Clone,’ a name as absurd as the situation he found himself in.
“Indeed, an interloper caused a disturbance in Flesa, leading to a confrontation with the city’s five captains four days past. The altercation escalated to the point where Bishop Oryu intervened. The intruder’s identity and intentions remain unknown,” Leo recounted with measured calm.
Shadow’s interest piqued. “And the outcome of this encounter?”
“The intruder was slain,” Leo replied, his tone even.
Shadow considered this, then posed a question of exchange. “Your report is most precise, Mr. Clone. What recompense do you seek?”
Leo, unprepared for such a barter, tried to imitate the previous person and weighed his options swiftly.
“Let’s keep it simple. I would appreciate a selection of books concerning vampires or similar entities. The rank of the books is of no concern. Should such resources be beyond your reach, a monetary equivalent will suffice. The valuation I leave to your discretion, with Mr. Sage as our witness,” he proposed, his gaze briefly meeting Mr. Sage’s, who acknowledged the arrangement with a nod.
Shadow’s response was tinged with a hint of surprise, yet she chose not to delve deeper into the request. “As you wish,” she said, her tone neutral yet accommodating.
Crow’s attention then shifted to Sage, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Mr. Sage, I’ve acquired several unique artifacts that I’m eager to offer.”
Sage offered a silent nod, granting Crow the floor.
“The first treasure is a staff known as the Poison Lake Staff, a relic of a mage who met his demise within a toxic lake. His essence merged with the staff, bestowing it with potent abilities: the Poison Orb, Poison Cloud, and Lake of Poison. However, its curse lies in its use; the wielder risks succumbing to illness, the severity increasing with each use. The asking price is 40 gold coins.”
A hitherto silent figure chimed in with skepticism. “Forty? For a B-rank artifact, that seems excessive.”
Crow’s retort was swift and confident. “Mr. Immortal, my reputation for quality is well-known.”
With a dismissive gesture, Immortal indicated his disinterest, prompting Crow to proceed.
“The second item is the Sword of blazing Flame, capable of channeling the bearer’s mana into searing fire. Its heat is so intense that it can vaporize nearby water and slice through the toughest materials. Yet, this power comes at a cost—it burns the hand that wields it. This piece is valued at 30 gold coins.”
Again, there were no takers, but Crow’s spirits remained undampened.
“The final offering is the Blue Crystal of the Indrik, filled. it commands a price of 150 gold coins.”
Leo’s astonishment was immediate and intense. ‘One hundred and fifty?’
“I''ll acquire it for 150,” a figure declared, prompting the bidding to begin.
“Two hundred,” countered a voice cloaked in shadow.
“Two hundred and fifty,” the initial bidder shot back, unfazed.
Leo watched in disbelief as the numbers climbed effortlessly, his mind racing to comprehend the sheer volume of gold being tossed around.
Then, a new voice cut through the tension. “Four hundred,” it announced, marking the entrance of the last silent member of the gathering into the auction.
Leo’s mind raced with envy at the sum of gold changing hands. ‘Four hundred gold coins? I could do so much with that amount,’ he mused, his thoughts a whirlwind of possibilities.
Crow allowed a brief interlude of silence before declaring the sale. “The Blue Crystal of the Indrik is now the property of Mr. King. Expect its delivery when we next convene.”
Leo’s curiosity piqued at the mention of the Indrik crystal, but before he could ponder further, Mr. King’s voice anchored him to the present.
“Tell me, Mr. Immortal, what can you share about the new archmage?” Mr. King’s voice remained devoid of emotion.
Immortal’s gaze held steady. “Indeed, news travels swiftly. I possess ample information, but I have terms: a vial of blood from a high-ranking werewolf.”
Mr. King hesitated, then nodded. “Agreed.”
“Very well,” Immortal began. “The new archmage is Hellen—a conjurer and diviner. She—”
“Enough,” Mr. King’s voice cut through. “I require this information in private.”
“As you wish.” Immortal exchanged a glance with Mr. Sage, and a barrier materialized around them. Leo watched, curious, as they conversed silently. When the barrier dissipated, Mr. Sage signaled the end of the meeting. The secrets of the new archmage remained veiled.
“The time has come to conclude our assembly. Until next Sunday, fare thee well.”
With a single clap from Mr. Sage, Leo’s surroundings began to blur, the figures and the stone chamber dissolving into a haze. Moments later, he found himself back in the familiar confines of his room.
He surveyed his surroundings, ensuring the reality of his return. The mysterious mark on his hand had vanished as if it had never been. Perplexed, he sat on the edge of his bed, grappling with the surreal experience.
‘I was inexplicably taken to a clandestine gathering, mistaken for another. But why? How?’ The questions swirled in his head.
His memory flickered back to the encounter four days prior. ‘That man—did he pass this “Mr. Clone” identity onto me? Was it to safeguard the mark? This is a mystery for another time.’
He recounted the figures from the meeting: Mr. Sage, the apparent leader, along with Ms. Shadow, Mr. Crow, Mr. Immortal, Mr. King, and the unnamed participant. The exchange of items, the bargaining—it was all so vivid.
Lying back on his bed, Leo contemplated his next move. ‘Do I bring this to the captain’s attention? What risks might that entail?’ The weight of the decision pressed upon him as he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.