The Great Canyon Margaret loomed vast and untamed, its jagged cliffs and shadowed depths cutting across the Inlan Dukedom and neighboring kingdoms, a formidable barrier on the path to the Ennea Ivory Ring Tower, the bastion of the Light Magi.
The air was heavy with the scent of dust and wild herbs, the canyon's winds carrying whispers of ancient dangers. For ordinary citizens, life rarely strayed beyond the dukedom's borders, their days bound from birth to death within its confines.
Even mercenaries, hardened by their trade, seldom ventured far, their missions tethered to the kingdom's familiar roads. Yet, for wandering bards and seasoned travelers, tales of the canyon's perils were currency, earning them awe and respect in smoky taverns.
Leylin's luxurious carriage along with riding knights rolled steadily toward this wilderness, the carriage polished wood gleaming under the midday sun, the creak of its iron wheels a quiet anthem of his resolve.
Inside, he reclined on velvet cushions, his dark robes pooling around him, his heart a furnace of ambition tempered by caution.
"Great Canyon Margaret is filled with danger," Leylin murmured, his voice low and contemplative, a trace of excitement threading through it as he gazed out the carriage window, the canyon's distant silhouette a promise of opportunity. "Even a hastened journey takes months…"
In the Magus World, transportation was a grueling affair, a test of endurance for even the most seasoned magicians. Airships offered a swifter path, their arcane engines slicing through the skies, but Leylin had dismissed the idea, his destination not a city but the wilderness itself.
'This is where I'll grow.' he thought, his voice a silent vow, his fingers tightening briefly on the armrest. 'My growth has stagnated. I can only push further here.'
He commanded silently, "A.I. Chip, display my status." The familiar hum of the Chip filled his mind, a lifeline to his progress.
[Beep! Leylin Farlier: Grand Knight. Rank 1 Warlock. Bloodline: Giant Kemoyin Serpent. Strength: 11.4, Agility: 9.3, Vitality: 12.1, Spiritual Force: 34.4, Magical Power: 34. Status: Healthy. Elemental essence conversion: Darkness. Progress: 37%.] The data flashed before his eyes, and Leylin's lips curved into a faint smile.
This was outstanding for a genius Magus, but not enough for Leylin. The Soulbound Devourer, his key to rapid growth, demanded the souls of Rank 1 opponents, yet hunting Magi risked drawing the ire of powerful factions.
Killing leaves trails, and since most Magi are tied to larger forces. One wrong move, and he would face their wrath.
These past months, Leylin had tempered his hunger for power, focusing instead on Saint Knight research and shoring up his lagging knowledge.
His regular meditation sessions, twice as effective as those of a Grade 5 talent, had driven explosive growth, bolstered by his Grade 4 soul aptitude and spiritual potions crafted from Kroft's formula.
His body has minimal potion resistance, since his body is untainted by over-reliance in his acolytes days.
The A.I. Chip estimated that meditation alone could propel him to Rank 2 in six to seven years, half the fourteen years Fang Ming required.
A pace that would spark envy, and malice. This rapid development had driven him to abandon the Abyssal Bone Forest Academy, its confines too small for his ambitions and too dangerous for his secrets.
The wilderness, however, was a lawless expanse, a haven for criminals and wanted Magi where death raised no questions.
"I can progress rapidly here," Leylin said, his voice vibrant with anticipation, his heart racing at the prospect. His goal was clear: reach Rank 2 to maximize the benefits of the Secret Plane, a realm where only such strength could seize its treasures.
Before him, Ivy sat quietly, her small frame dwarfed by the carriage's opulence, her sapphire eyes downcast. Leylin turned, his voice gentle but probing, "Your parent's good friend, that Aunt Marian, where does she live?"
"Angler Town, beside the Great Canyon," Ivy replied, her voice low and hesitant, a trace of hope in her tone.
Anna, seated beside her, smiled warmly, ruffling Ivy's hair, her voice soft, "You're almost there, little one." Her touch was tender, her heart full of empathy for the girl's loss.
"Well then!" he said, his voice bright with resolve, "I'll send you to Angler Town to find your Aunt Marian."
Ivy's eyes widened, and she hesitated, her voice trembling with courage, "L…Lord! Is it okay if I followed you around?"
Leylin sighed, his heart heavy with the inevitability of her plea.
'She's clinging to me.' he thought, his voice a mix of pity and pragmatism. He didn't mind helping her, but her limited potential made her a liability.
"Is this for revenge?" he asked, his voice cold, cutting to the heart of her desire.
Ivy lowered her head, her silence a tacit admission, and Leylin sighed.
"Ivy, you should be aware," he said, his voice gentle but unyielding, a teacher's patience in his tone, "that due to the genetic constitution of your family, without the lost meditation technique, you'll never be an apprentice. Even I can't change that." His heart flickered with kinship, their shared Warlock heritage a rare bond, but he spoke truth to temper her hopes.
"I know!" Ivy's voice cracked, fierce with desperation, "But I request from you to get me vengeance! For this reason, I'm willing to suffer any consequence!"
Leylin's gaze hardened, his heart unmoved by her passion. "My apologies," he said, his voice cold but honest, a Magus's logic in every word. "Magi advocate fair transactions. I won't waste my time hunting him, and he'd dare not clash with me. His life means nothing to me—if he stood before me, I'd kill him, but you're not worth the effort to hunt him." The words were ruthless, a lesson in the world's harsh reality, and his heart steadied, knowing false hope would only destroy her.
Ivy's shoulders trembled, her knees drawn to her chest, silence enveloping her as Anna withdrew her hand, her voice silent, respecting Leylin's decree.
The carriage rolled into Angler Town, a gloomy enclave of Magi, its air thick with a moist, putrefying stench, its buildings angular and cold, their dark stone facades radiating menace.
'A den of outcasts.' Leylin assessed, feeling the lawless energy. Wanted Magi and criminals thrived here, their presence a promise of opportunity for his growth.
He felt a pang of pity for Ivy, her delicate nature at odds with this harsh place, but his resolve held firm.
They stopped before a dilapidated two-story loft, its black wooden planks sagging, exuding decay. The first floor, a struggling grocery store, saw scant customers, its shelves sparsely stocked.
Leylin parked the carriage, his voice calm but authoritative, "Everyone, stay here." He took Ivy's hand, her small fingers trembling in his grasp, and entered the store, his heart steady but alert.
"Marian! Come out," he called, his voice resonant, releasing a pulse of his Magus aura, a subtle warning to any who might challenge him.
"Respected Magus Lord, how may I serve you?" A voice answered, oily with flattery, as Marian emerged—an obese middle-aged woman in a greasy grey apron, her thick makeup garish, her Level 3 Acolyte aura faint but present.
Her appearance clashed with her power, and Leylin's lips twitched, amusement in his chest at the contrast. "She's the one?" he asked Ivy, his voice gentle.
"Yes… Yes!" Ivy nodded, her voice hesitant but certain, her eyes darting to Marian.
Leylin understood the desperation that had driven Ivy's parents to entrust her to such a woman.
"This is Ivy! Any impression?" he said, pulling Ivy forward, his voice firm but probing, watching Marian's reaction.
"John's daughter?!" Marian's face shifted, her voice dripping with false sorrow, "About the Langster family matter, I feel sad…" She squeezed out crocodile tears, and Leylin's heart hardened, disdain curling in his chest at her theatrics. He recounted Miles' plea briefly, his voice clipped, "I just happened to pass by, and the housekeeper begged me to bring her here."
Marian's expression turned embarrassed, her voice strained, "To offer shelter again…" Her reluctance was palpable, and Leylin's gaze turned cold.
She would have casted Ivy out by now, if not for his presence. After a short struggle, Marian forced a smile, her voice grudging, "Since it is what the Lord wants, then alright."
Her insincerity grated, but Leylin's focus shifted to Ivy. He touched her head gently, his voice low, "You'll be safe here."
Leylin tossed a pouch of potions to Marian, retreating swiftly.
As he turned, Ivy's eyes turned frosty, a stream of information appeared into Ivy's mind—a Grand Knight Technique, unmatched in its tier.
A gift, ensuring her strength without the burden of a Saint Knight technique that could invite danger from greedy individual.
A voice echoed in her mind, "We will meet again if fate allows it," and Ivy bowed, her voice a whisper, "Thank you, Lord," gratitude shining in her eyes.
Leylin returned to the carriage, the act of leaving Ivy a small mercy he could afford.
'She's not my burden.' he thought, his voice firm, his focus returning to the wilderness and the power awaiting him.