Silence.
A profound stillness fell over the hall, so heavy it felt as if even the flickering torchlight dared not move. The assembled Knights, attendants, and household guards stared in open-mouthed shock, unable to process what they had just witnessed. For a long moment, no one even breathed.
What… just happened?
They hadn't even begun fighting. No blades had clashed, no spells had been cast, no bravado exchanged. And yet the burly challenger—renowned for his strength, known for his stubborn pride—had abruptly fallen to his knees, surrendering without reason, as if controlled by invisible strings.
This was not a thing that happened. Not here. Not to men like him.
Amid the stunned crowd, only the Silver Moon Viscount sat quietly. But unlike the others, the noble's expression changed sharply the instant the strange scene occurred. His eyes brightened, gleaming with sudden realization. A mixture of excitement, astonishment, and relief flashed across his face.
He understood something that the others did not.
A friend of the fallen burly man finally snapped out of his daze. Anger contorted his features as he rushed forward, grabbing the kneeling man by the shoulder and hauling him upright. Then he swung his glare toward Magus, the man who stood calm and composed at the center of the hall.
"What did you do to him?" the man demanded, his voice trembling with fury—and something else. Fear.
Magus did not even bother looking up fully. His tone carried the effortless indifference of someone commenting on the weather.
"Just a small trick," he said. "Would you like to try it as well?"
Under Magus's steady, emotionless gaze, the man felt the blood drain from his face. The threat wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't even a threat, not explicitly. And yet something in the subtle chill of Magus's voice pierced straight through him.
His words died in his throat.
At that moment, the burly man finally regained clarity. He blinked several times, replaying the memory of himself kneeling, barking like an animal, and losing control of his own body. Awareness dawned on him—and then humiliation. His face turned a deep, almost purple shade, darker than pig liver. With a roar born from shame and rage, he ripped the heavy battle-axe from his back and charged toward Magus.
Gasps erupted across the hall.
The two Knights stationed at the Viscount's side instinctively stepped forward, prepared to intercept the berserk assailant. But before they could take two steps, Magus simply lifted his hand in a casual wave.
A blinding bolt of lightning flashed into existence.
It did not arc from the ceiling, nor form from Magus's palm—it appeared as if reality itself tore open to let it through. The white-blue light streaked across the air with a crack that shook the hall, striking the charging man squarely in the chest.
Crack!
In the blink of an eye, the burly man collapsed to the ground, his body twisted, charred black, smoke curling from his armor. Whether he was alive or dead, no one could immediately tell.
Silence returned.
But this time, it was a silence sharpened by terror.
Everyone stared at the fallen High-level Knight—the same man who moments earlier was confident enough to attack a stranger without hesitation. Now, he lay defeated in a single instant. No one had seen what Magus did. No one understood how he did it. And no one dared to even breathe loudly near him.
A High-level Knight, defeated so effortlessly…?
What manner of power was that lightning? What kind of man could conjure such a thing?
Before anyone could recover, slow, rhythmic applause broke the tension.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
All heads turned. Standing from his seat, the Silver Moon Viscount smiled broadly, his eyes shining with admiration.
"Magnificent," the Viscount said, clapping with genuine enthusiasm. "Truly magnificent. As Your Excellency said earlier—if you can eliminate that evil spirit plaguing my lands, the entire bounty shall be yours."
A ripple of discomfort spread among the Knights. Many of them frowned; some clenched their fists; others looked as if they wished to protest. But no one spoke a single word. They had all seen what had happened. They had all felt that incomprehensible presence in Magus's brief actions.
Even the most experienced among them sensed that resistance would be nothing short of suicidal.
Some of the better-informed Knights exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions gradually shifting from irritation to dread. They had guessed, with increasing certainty, what Magus might be.
A Wizard.
A being whose very existence stood apart from ordinary humans. A wielder of power that bent the laws of nature, capable of feats no warrior could defend against.
The moment that realization fully sank in, the recruited Knights slowly turned and exited the hall. Not a single one dared to linger.
Within minutes, the hall was emptied of everyone except Magus and the Silver Moon Viscount.
The Viscount, beaming with satisfaction, approached Magus. "May I have the honor of Your Excellency's name?"
"Magus MacLean."
"As I suspected," the Viscount replied, his tone almost reverent. "Your Excellency Magus is… a Wizard, is he not?"
Magus gave a simple nod. "Correct."
"Splendid!" The Viscount's joy became nearly unrestrainable. Even though he had already suspected this truth, hearing Magus confirm it himself felt like a blessing from the heavens. "With a Wizard's aid, that evil spirit will surely be eradicated."
"The evil spirit isn't the issue," Magus replied calmly. "But before I handle it, I must request another condition."
"Please speak freely."
"I want the one-thousand-gold bounty paid in advance," Magus said. "Not in coin, but in the specific materials and tools listed here."
He handed the noble a prepared list. On it were materials required for crafting Sub-Active Potions, along with a new set of potion-making tools. The Synthesis Cube he carried had limited internal space and couldn't store his full assortment of instruments, so he needed replacements.
The Viscount scanned the list. To his great relief, the requested items were not rare. He had feared Magus would demand something priceless or politically sensitive—yet this was merely a collection of alchemical ingredients and equipment, all obtainable in the city without trouble.
"Consider it done," the Viscount said. "Everything will be prepared for you as soon as possible. Until then, please rest in my mansion. My staff will attend to all your needs."
Magus nodded and accepted the hospitality.
Once Magus left, one of the two remaining Great Knights, a stern man named Urbano, finally mustered the courage to speak.
"My Lord," he said, "do you trust him so easily? What if he takes the items and escapes?"
The Viscount didn't seem annoyed by the question. Instead, he gave Urbano a curious smile.
"Urbano," he said, "if I ordered you to fight him—what are your chances of victory?"
Urbano hesitated, but he was too honest to lie.
"Less than fifty percent," he admitted. "His methods… are too strange. I couldn't see through any of them."
He could kill a High-level Knight instantly, yes—but not so effortlessly, not as if killing someone was as simple as flicking dust from his sleeve. And Magus clearly had not shown his true power. The memory of the burly man being puppeteered like a mindless beast remained vivid in Urbano's mind.
He knew, deep down, that he couldn't resist such sorcery.
The Viscount chuckled and shook his head, clapping Urbano's shoulder.
"You wouldn't just lose," he said. "You would be utterly defeated before you could lift your sword."
Urbano's expression stiffened, but he couldn't refute the statement.
"Knights who don't understand Wizards," the Viscount added as he walked away, "never grasp how terrifying that kind of power truly is. Wizards are not bound by our world's rules. They wield a power that belongs to a different plane of existence."
The next day, the Silver Moon Viscount's efficiency became evident. A large shipment of silver moon flowers—the primary ingredient Magus needed—arrived in the mansion. After instructing the servants to ensure no one disturbed him, Magus retreated into his prepared room and began the intricate process of potion-making.
The materials worth a thousand gold coins yielded one hundred and two bottles of Sub-Active Potion.
Now came the true work.
Magus placed twenty-two bottles into the Synthesis Cube, watching as the interface displayed the upgraded product. The resulting Active Potion had reached first-order high-grade, with stronger effects and increased duration. However, the minimum spiritual power required to consume it rose to eight points.
He continued adding potions.
Once fifty-eight bottles were used, the interface shifted dramatically.
Super Energy Potion (Second-order / Low-grade)
After consumption, greatly increases mental activity and enhances absorption efficiency of energy particles. Extends meditation time. Duration: 48 days 4 hours. Cannot stack. Requires spiritual power ≥13.
"Excellent," Magus murmured, eyes brightening.
This was superior to the Active Potion in every way—especially the enhancement to energy particle absorption. Combined with the godblood amber, the synergy would dramatically improve his meditation efficiency.
He pressed onward.
At eighty-five bottles, it became second-order mid-grade. The effects remained similar but the duration increased to 54 days, and the required spiritual power rose to 15.
Finally, after adding all remaining potions—raising the count to one hundred and five—the interface displayed the final result:
Super Energy Potion (Second-order / High-grade)
Greatly increases mental activity and greatly enhances absorption of energy particles. Extends meditation time. Duration: 62 days 10 hours. Cannot stack. Requires spiritual power ≥18.
"Eighteen…" Magus sighed.
His current spiritual power wasn't even sixteen. Even with this masterpiece before him, he couldn't consume it yet.
Still, disappointment faded quickly. A second-order mid-grade version was already an enormous boon for him. Once his spiritual power surpassed eighteen, he could synthesize—and safely use—the high-grade version.
"One bottle of second-order mid-grade Super Energy Potion costs eight hundred and fifty gold," Magus calculated. "And it lasts less than two months. That's nearly six thousand gold a year. And that's just for a Second-level Wizard Apprentice."
He exhaled slowly.
"How many gold coins will I need once I become a full Wizard?"
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