Whereabouts

Black Berry Rainforest.

A small grove.

Night had fallen long ago. Beneath a hillside about two kilometers from the Spring of Enlightenment, the moonlight was faint. A rustling sound came from the darkness, and little clumps of dirt kept pushing up from a patch of uneven ground.

A few minutes later, a small flower, roots and all, rose a little like an elevator. A closer look revealed a pair of pitch-black eyes beneath the dirt. A head was pushing the flower up.

Sean quietly surveyed his surroundings, listening carefully to every sound. Only after confirming that it was safe did he slowly crawl out and greedily gulp down a few breaths of fresh air.

A faint smell of blood still lingered in the woods, a sign that the danger had not yet passed.

He still couldn't leave.

News of Winster and the others' total annihilation had spread much faster than he'd expected. In just over ten hours, Elvily's side had already received word, and the Floris Family had probably heard about it too. If he went out now, he might run right into the guns of a large force.

The main problem was that he didn't know which direction they'd come from.

He had to wait.

Sean had plenty of time. There was no need to rush.

Besides, he needed somewhere quiet.

It wasn't as if he was just lying in a pit, waiting around.

Having become a wizard for the first time—or no, "become a wizard again" was more accurate—he had a lot to readjust to, such as his daily habits. Eating only two meals a day and maintaining a slight hunger made it easier to enter a meditative state.

And then there were the new spells.

In his previous life, his greatest strength had been the True Formula, but that didn't mean it was the only spell he knew.

During the Scholar Era, there had been countless kinds of magic. Natural elements like fire and ice were only among the more common types, not the whole of magic. There were also puppets, chess, pianos and violins, abstract paintings, and much more.

Someone had once used magic as a brush to create a painting that contained a powerful magic array. Once activated, it could plunge an entire city into absolute darkness, slowing the enemy's senses. Even chanting spells took half a beat longer, because they couldn't immediately hear their own voices. Their eyes were practically useless too, leaving them unable to see a thing.

Unlike its dark, viscous effect, the painting had a beautiful name and an equally beautiful appearance: No Starry Sky.

Of course, that wasn't what Sean planned to learn.

With his current 1.5 lak of magic, he couldn't learn it anyway.

What he planned to work on was a handy little spell that worked well in the dark: the Invisibility Spell.

The basic Invisibility Spell, which could be learned at Rank One, had a fairly obvious flaw. Under the sunlight, it might take on a colorful, transparent sheen, making the user look like a human-shaped bubble begging to be poked. But at night, when the light was dim, using it alongside the Mute Spell to eliminate the sounds of breathing and footsteps made it nearly impossible to detect without special means.

Another spell was called "Light as a Swallow." As the name suggested, it made the body lighter. It was mainly used for traveling or fleeing, but in a pinch, it could also be cast on an enemy. Add a Wind Spell, and the combo would send them flying.

Sean had no trouble learning these little spells. The incantations were especially simple—

"Nuomiuyadi"—Invisibility Spell.

"Peisuosende"—Light as a Swallow.

"Wuentesajier"—Wind Spell.

"Weiresande"—Mute Spell.

For an ordinary wizard, the difficult parts were controlling the flow of magic and pronouncing the Old Tongue. But Sean had practiced the former countless times in his dreams. No novice wizard could have more experience than him. As for the latter, he knew it by heart. The Old Tongue was part of his novel's setting, and he knew every syllable inside and out.

Sean mastered all four spells in a single night.

When daylight came, he "dug his own grave" and buried himself in the dirt again.

He got his food from the Witch Hunters. After killing them, Sean had looted their packs.

He had to admit, those bastards ate pretty well. They had military rations, rich in fat. A little heat over a fire, and they tasted better than dishes made by chefs in many restaurants.

He left the Witch Hunters' phones alone, in case they had tracking devices or something. He couldn't unlock them without the passwords anyway. They were just small-time thugs working for the Floris Family for money, and probably didn't know any important secrets. They weren't worth the risk.

On the second night, Sean practiced the incantations again to improve his proficiency.

He slept or meditated during the day, then emerged under the cover of Invisibility at night to wander around and observe the situation.

He kept to this nocturnal routine until the fourth day, when the Floris Family's main force finally showed up.

Sean watched from a hiding place in the distance.

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could see what they were doing. They stuffed the bodies of Winster and the others into sacks, including Jim, Wilson, Johnson, and Jenny. They took every last one of them.

The Witch Hunters who had come this time were clearly better armed than Winster's group. They wore thick bulletproof vests and riot helmets, with grenades at their waists. They looked like a well-trained army. Sean even spotted someone carrying a rocket launcher on his back. He couldn't help thinking, These guys are treating me like a boss fight.

Was all this really necessary to deal with a Rank One wizard?

The True Formula he had cast using the Third Law of Occultism could only reflect firepower up to his magic limit, which was 1.5 lak. If they actually fired a rocket at him, he'd have no choice but to run.

Fortunately, it was night, and the other side hadn't noticed him watching from the shadows.

Sean didn't watch for long. His goal had been to confirm the direction they had come from. Now that he knew, he didn't linger. He melted into the night and slipped away without a sound, leaving the small grove.

Before he left, he also made a point of checking the Spring of Enlightenment.

The spring water still glowed faintly at night, just as it had in the morning. Only now, instead of the moon, there was a sun at the bottom of the water. It was pretty amazing.

These Witch Hunters didn't seem interested in doing anything to the spring. They clearly didn't intend to give up this fishing spot. He'd left warnings on a few tree trunks, hoping the next people to come would see them and take heed.

Floris Hospital.

Day after day went by.

Quill's mood worsened with each passing day.

Seven days had passed since the caretaker he'd sent out was killed, but they had yet to find Sean's body. That meant the other man was still alive. Quill couldn't understand how a frail shut-in of a novelist could kill more than twenty armed Witch Hunters.

Could it really be with that pitiful amount of Rank One magic?

It made no sense.

But apart from Sean, there was no one else. No matter how unwilling Quill was to believe it, he had no choice but to accept the truth.

He felt as though Sean had slapped him hard across the face, and it infuriated him.

Even harder to accept was the fact that Sean seemed to be slipping out of his control.

He had already sent people to investigate, but for seven days straight, there hadn't been a single lead on Sean's whereabouts. It was as if the man had vanished from the world overnight, with no trace of him anywhere.

Then, on the eighth day—

Quill's mood finally improved.

A caretaker pushed open the door to his office.

"Dr. Quill, we have news."

"Go on."

"On the first of next month, Sean will be attending the signing event for his book in Old Sigel City."