Days turned into a blur of duality.
By day, Lencar was the model employee at "The Rusty Spoon." He charmed customers, peeled vegetables with supernatural speed, and listened to Rebecca complain about the price of flour. He played with the children, telling them stories of Snow White (editing out the poisoned apple part when he saw Pem try to feed a rock to Marco). He was warm. He was human. He felt the genuine pull of a normal life tugging at his heart.
By night, he was a terror.
He hunted Gulliver "The Rot" in the sewers. He waded through poison gas, forcing his lungs to adapt, holding his breath for five minutes at a time until he cornered the mage and harvested his Poison Magic. Lesson learned: Endurance.
He ambushed The Iron-Eater Brothers on the North Road. He didn't separate them. He fought them both at once, pitting his Steel Magic (taken from Kael) against theirs, refining his ability to create weapons on the fly. He took a hammer to the ribs, but he harvested two sources of Iron Magic, significantly boosting his defense. Lesson learned: Crowd Control.
He sniped Saros the Gale from a opposing clock tower, using Wind Magic combined with Spatial Magic to redirect his own bullets, out-thinking the assassin at his own game. Lesson learned: Precision.
He tracked Madame Vex. Her illusions were terrifying—she made him see his old life, his death as Kenji, his failures. But Lencar's enhanced soul cut through the fog. He shattered her mind with a blast of pure mana pressure. Lesson learned: Mental Fortitude.
With every kill, he went to Jareth. The bounty money piled up under his floorboard—over 400,000 Yuls now.
But more importantly, his mana was climbing.
He sat on the roof of the Scarlet house one night, a week after the Red Clay incident. The moon was full.
Lencar checked his internal status.
Mana Capacity: Stage 5 (Peak).
Physical Status: Enhanced. (Comparable to a user of Reinforcement Magic even in base state).
Spell Library: Expanded. (Wind, Earth, Fire, Water, Spatial, Lightning, Steel, Poison, Iron, Beast, Illusion).
Soul Status: Highly Condensed.
"I'm hitting a wall," Lencar muttered.
He held out his hand. A sphere of mana formed. It was dense, swirling with a dozen colors. But it wouldn't grow larger.
"Stage 5 Peak. To break into Stage 4—the realm of Vice-Captains and Royals—I need a catalyst. I need high-quality mana. Bandit trash won't push the needle anymore."
He closed his hand, dispelling the magic.
He thought about the timeline. He had been in Nairn for over a week.
"The Black Bulls..."
He closed his eyes and accessed the file in his memory labeled Canon Timeline.
Asta joined the Bulls. His first mission was hunting boars in Sosshi Village.
It was a simple task. Until it wasn't.
Because Heath Grice—a high-ranking mage of the Eye of the Midnight Sun—was there.
Heath Grice used Ice Magic. Real, lethal Ice Magic, not the weak snow tricks of the bandit Mira. He was a Stage 3 or Stage 4 mage easily.
His subordinates used Mist Magic and Mud/Earth Magic.
Lencar's eyes snapped open.
"Ice. Mist."
Mist Magic was incredibly rare. It was the ultimate stealth tool. If he combined Mist with his Spatial Magic and Void Pulse... he would be untraceable.
And Heath's Ice Magic... it was destructive, defensive, and versatile.
"If I harvest Heath Grice," Lencar calculated, "his mana density alone will shatter the barrier. It will push me into Stage 4. Maybe even Mid-Stage 4."
He stood up on the roof tiles. The wind whipped at his cloak.
Sosshi Village was in the Forsaken Realm, nestled in the mountains, shrouded in fog. It wasn't far from Nairn—perhaps half a day's travel by Spatial Jump if he pushed it.
The mission was due to happen... soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after.
If he didn't go, Asta, Noelle, and Magna would win. They would struggle, they would bleed, Asta would get his first real sword upgrade (conceptually), but they would survive. The story would go on.
But if he did go...
He could steal the kills. He could harvest the cultists. He could save the villagers before the casualties mounted.
"And," Lencar admitted to himself, "I want to see how much stronger Asta has gotten."
He dropped down from the roof and slipped into his room.
The next morning, the sun rose grey and dull. A mist hung over Nairn—an omen.
Lencar walked into the kitchen. Rebecca was already up, feeding Noah.
"Morning, Lencar!" she chirped. "You're up early."
Lencar didn't put on his apron. He stood by the table, his expression somber.
"Rebecca," he said gently.
She stopped spoon-feeding the baby. She saw his clothes. He wasn't wearing his work tunic. He was wearing his traveler's gear—the sturdy boots, the leather vest, the cloak folded over his arm.
"You're... leaving?" she asked, her voice small.
"Not permanently," Lencar lied—or hoped it wasn't a lie. "I received a tip. About a job. A high-paying one. It involves... hunting a rare beast in the mountains near Sosshi."
"Hunting?" Rebecca frowned. "Is it dangerous?"
"Calculated risk," Lencar said. "But the payout is huge. Enough to fix the roof. Enough to buy Marco new books."
He walked over and placed a small pouch on the table. It contained 10,000 Yuls—just enough to be a "good advance" without raising suspicion.
"I'll be gone for two, maybe three days," Lencar said. "Can you manage the restaurant without me?"
Rebecca looked at the pouch, then at him. She stood up and hugged him. It was sudden, and it froze Lencar's tactical mind for a second. She smelled of milk and flour.
"Just come back," she whispered into his chest. "I don't care about the money. Just come back. You promised to finish the story about the mermaid."
Lencar hesitated, then awkwardly patted her back. "I will. The mermaid has a happy ending. Mostly."
He pulled away gently. "Tell the kids I went to get them a dragon's tooth."
"Lencar!"
"I'm joking. Mostly."
He walked out the door before his resolve crumbled.
He walked to the edge of town, where the fog was thickest. He checked his map one last time.
His Destination: Sosshi Village.
His Objective: Intercept the Eye of the Midnight Sun.
His Primary Target: Heath Grice.
His Secondary Target: Absolute Replication of all hostiles.
Lencar opened his grimoire. It hummed violently, sensing his intent. It knew he was going to war.
He visualized the coordinates to the north.
[Spatial Magic]: [Coordinate Jump]
The grey rift opened, swallowing the Heretic.
He was done grinding on rats. It was time to hunt the wolves.