The entire city of Orford had fallen completely silent.
Asa knew that there were three half-orcs sleeping inside the building where he stood—two adults and one cub—distinguishable by the rhythm and depth of their breathing.
A strange sound faintly reached his ears from nearby, the soft contact and friction gradually becoming heavier, then lighter, alternating back and forth. This was the sound of a arc's thick padded feet on the ground.
Three, two, one—he saw it. Just as the sounds suggested, an arc appeared from around the corner ahead. It was one of those that had captured him earlier; they were likely responsible for nighttime patrols. They didn't need torches or other lighting tools; their exceptional night vision and hearing were abilities far beyond human reach.
An hour ago, Asa had hold the same thought. But now he knew it was not true, at least not entirely—he had surpassed that limitation. As long as he focused his mind, both his hearing and sight could perform a hundred times more acutely than usual.
Perhaps due to his state of mind, he found himself meditating deeper than ever before, achieving a heightened awareness unlike any previous attempt. Not only had his physical senses and perception improved dramatically, but all the distractions in his mind had vanished without a trace, leaving only one clear thought—retrieve the book.
Sounds can disturb the ears, colors can blind the eyes, and desires can trouble the mind. Abandon all other distractions, a person will naturally become stronger.
The arc turned onto the next street, its soft footfalls fading into the distance. Asa slid down the wall, landing silently on the ground, not even raising a cloud of dust; his movements were softer and more fluid than a tree snake.
Not only were his senses sharper, but every part of his body felt peculiarly attuned. He could control the most minute muscles to perform the smallest movements, clearly sensing how his muscles and bones worked in perfect harmony, propelled by the flow of blood. He felt like an observer, watching his own dissected body without any emotion, but simultaneously all sensations felt like one cohesive whole, where his mental will and body were inseparable. Every tiny action was under the control of his consciousness.
He was more sensitive than a beast, more saturated, ready to unleash his fighting spirit and killing intent at any moment—a perfect mental state. He could feel the life force flowing vigorously through his body.
Step by step, he moved forward. The soft soles of his leather shoes absorbed every sound, and with the cotton insoles inside, his feet made no noise at all. The tips of his toes touched the ground first, and the strong, flexible muscles in the arch of his foot evenly distributed the weight of his descent over time, preventing any single point from bearing too much pressure. The joints and muscles of his legs moved in perfect coordination, ensuring that each step landed accurately. His center of gravity was low and stable, his soles completely flush with the ground, making no sound as he moved.
The city hall was not far away. Another arc's footsteps approached from ahead. Asa was now able to detect the presence of others even before they could notice him. He turned and slipped into the gap between two buildings, making no noise, like a shadow made of smoke.
The arc's footsteps drew closer. This was likely the same one that had captured him earlier, limping slightly on one leg. Asa didn't hold his breath; he knew he couldn't maintain it for long, and the rapid beating of his heart would only give him away. Instead, he opened his mouth slightly to widen his airway, allowing his breath to flow slowly.
The arc's footsteps continued without pause, moving past the spot where Asa hid. He then emerged from the space between the buildings like a shadow, not allowing even his clothes to brush against the rough surfaces.
Behind the grand city hall was a stone house. Like all other buildings in this city, it was quite simple; this was the residence of mayor Theodorus and General Grutt.
Asa crept along the uneven exterior walls of the city hall like a gecko, inching closer to the stone house. Whether it was an illusion created by his heightened sensitivity, he felt as if his robe had become part of his body. The folds and fibers felt like extensions of his skin and muscles, allowing him to control his movements to avoid making noise as he brushed against the wall.
He silenced himself, focusing all his attention on his ears.
About ten paces ahead, two meters deep, he could hear a mouse digging. A four-legged lizard jumped from a crack in the stone wall and landed with a soft thud. The wind whistled through the gaps between the buildings, creating a sound over the uneven surfaces, but there were no other signs of life, no breathing, no heartbeat. There was no one inside.
Why there was no one, Asa didn't know, nor did he want to know; it was better this way.
The door to the house was open, which was not surprising; the residents of Orford had no habit of closing their doors. Asa approached the entrance, blocking the light from spilling out with his body. He extended his fingers, and a spark leaped into existence, dancing between his fingertips.
The flame flickered vigorously, but Asa felt satisfied. Not only was his body under control, but so were his mental energy and magic. Maintaining a spell is several times harder than casting it, and keeping a small flame in his fingers for illumination was something he would have never dared to imagine before; even a mid-level mage would struggle to achieve such a feat.
The room was large and unlike others, it wasn't divided into several smaller rooms with wooden panels, giving it an open, spacious feel. In the center of the room stood a table, and in the corner were stacks of books, with two beds nearby.
He didn't need to search carefully; the book was right there in the center of the table, prominently displayed, like bait dangling in a mouse trap, seemingly fearing that anyone entering might miss it.
Asa didn't move. He was utterly confident in his senses, certain that there were no humans or orcs lying in wait within a hundred meters.
Carefully scanning the floor for any hidden traps around the table, he noticed no mechanisms. His understanding of traps surpassed even that of top-notch hunters; it was a necessary skill for survival in the wild.
He approached cautiously and finally spotted the source of the trap.
A few drawn lines peeked out from beneath the book, blending with the patterns on the tabletop. Asa discerned that the book was placed atop a magic circle. The circle wasn't large, but the intricate lines and the materials used emanated a phosphorescent glow, indicating a significant effect.
For others, this might be an effective trap, but Asa was unconcerned; he reached out and grabbed the book.
With a loud crack, a white flash illuminated the room. Bolts of lightning sprang from the surrounding air, striking toward Asa. This was a lightning trap; even the strongest ogre would collapse from such an attack, waiting to be dragged away like a slaughtered pig. However, the electric light faded just half a meter from Asa, like an ice arrow shot into boiling water, disappearing without a sound. The robe he wore resonated with his aura, extending the effect originally limited to his body outward for an entire meter around him.
Asa tucked the book into his arms. The sound and flash from earlier might have alerted the other orcs; he needed to return to the inn as quickly as possible.
Clap, clap, clap. Asa froze in place, as if turned to stone.
This wasn't the sound of magic, but rather a rhythmic, lively applause coming from the corner near the entrance. Accompanying it were two breaths—one deep and elongated, the other powerful yet showing signs of age. Both breaths were methodical, soft, and smooth, devoid of the hurried heartbeat of someone out of breath.
A small firebird emerged from the corner, no larger than half a palm, flapping its wings as it soared through the room. It flew to a torch on the wall and lit it before darting to another. The interior instantly brightened, revealing everything clearly.
Mayor Theodorus and General Grutt stepped out from a magic circle at the door. This circle was drawn in the corner by the entrance, hidden from view when standing at the door. It was simple in design, apparently lacking any special effects or power; it likely only isolated the vibrations in the air within its bounds, which was why Asa hadn't noticed any sounds.
The little firebird lit the last torch, then flew back to mayor Theodorus, transforming into a tiny flame that flickered once before disappearing. This was merely the lowest level of fire magic, but even the highest-level mages from the magic academy couldn't control their power so casually.
Clap, clap, clap. Mayor Theodorus continued to applaud, the sound expressing genuine admiration. "Truly exquisite stealth! Even the most secure palace would feel like an open road with such skills. If I hadn't witnessed the downfall of the Assassin's Guild twenty years ago, I'd believe I was facing a top-notch assassin." He sighed, a hint of reproach in his voice. "I expected you would arrive earlier; we've been waiting for quite a while."
"I know you aren't an assassin, let alone a thief. No member of the Necromancer Guild would undertake such actions, just as a cobra wouldn't learn how to burrow like a mouse," mayor Theodorus said, gazing at Asa. "Do you understand? A snake is a snake, no matter how much it mingles with mice; it will always stand out. You shouldn't associate with those thieves; it only makes you more conspicuous. You should act more like them instead. When they pounce on their goods like hungry dogs, you shouldn't just stand by and watch. And when that book was discovered, you shouldn't have turned your head to the wall so obviously, your breath becoming ragged. You ought to be more patient; there's no need to rush off with those thieves tomorrow. Instead, take a few months or even years to approach that book slowly, and don't be so direct in asking the officials for our whereabouts. Isn't it strange for a stranger thief to suddenly inquire about such things? It practically tells us you intend to visit tonight. So, we had no choice but to wait here." The mayor paused, shaking his head. "That said, you don't seem like a member of the Necromancer Guild. Such reckless carelessness is utterly uncharacteristic of their usual calm and cunning demeanor. But perhaps times have changed; those guys might be looking to refresh their methods by recruiting a young person like you—a rather creative shift."
Asa remained silent. He couldn't speak; he didn't even have the energy to think. The beast-like instinct within him sensed the immense pressure emanating from General Grutt. The effects of his meditation had kept his consciousness highly focused, enabling him to unleash the maximum potential of his body. This heightened state of awareness left no room for thoughts of escape, surrender, or explanation. Like a startled animal, he instinctively fell into a tense state of full vigilance.
Mayor Theodorus's piercing eyes fixed firmly on Asa's robe, like a judge's gavel sealing Asa's fate. "The key lies in that robe you wear and the effects it exhibits—it's practically your identity card."
The lord turned to General Grutt and asked, "What would you do if a cobra slithered into your house?"
"Kill it." General Grutt's response was brief and forceful, his expression unwavering, as if those two powerful words resonated through the air by sheer thought alone.
Taking the initiative, Asa leapt backward, kicking a table toward the two men, using it to obscure their line of sight. He charged forward behind the table.
However, midway through its flight, the table suddenly halted, then ascended as if it had turned into a balloon.
In that instant, Asa's instincts kicked in as if he were about to collide with an invisible wall, a wall that would crush him. He exerted all his strength to stop his forward momentum.
Once the table cleared his view, General Grutt, who had previously been casually standing by the door, suddenly appeared in front of him, reaching out with an open hand toward his chest.
This hand was not in a fist or a grasp, merely a casual gesture, as if he were intentionally extending it for Asa to see. Asa noticed clearly that a misty, white glow enveloped that hand.
With no time to dodge, Asa instinctively knew how to respond. He pushed off the ground with both feet, flying backward. His agility and explosiveness were several times greater than before; the actions flowed seamlessly, as if there was no transition time. Even a beast wouldn't have such reflexes.
Yet, even so, General Grutt's hand still made contact with his chest.
Asa retreated, but the hand pressed against him without much force, almost as if it were just a light push. Nonetheless, Asa found himself crashing hard against the wall, halting only after the impact. As soon as he landed, he instinctively crouched like a cat. His movements were fluid and without any openings.
"Good." General Grutt's pitch-black eyes gleamed with intensity, his previously stoic face now brimming with excitement. It was as if a mad artist had stumbled upon a breathtaking landscape, or a reclusive musician had discovered a magnificent piece of music—he had found a channel through which to express his vitality. His excitement ignited his energy completely.
Since Asa completed his meditation, he sensed that the robe, once impervious to blades, had gained even more protection than before. The fibers absorbed some essence emanating from his body, buffering the external damage. However, at this moment, three small spots on his chest throbbed painfully, one already oozing blood. The fingers of General Grutt had still managed to penetrate through his robe.
Though the robe remained undamaged, Asa knew that had the hand struck him directly, his body might not have suffered punctures, but his breastbone would surely shatter like porcelain under a hammer's blow.
As mayor Theodorus gestured, the table seemed to be lifted by an invisible hand, slowly floating aside. This was a basic air magic, almost useless in practical terms; typically, mages would only create a gust of wind to blow away toxic smoke. Yet in the hands of this old man, it transformed into something wonderfully effective.
Mayor Theodorus observed the scene like a renowned playwright watching a performance, providing commentary. "That robe he wears is a treasure of the Necromancer Guild—the Cloak of the Ghost King. It was crafted by Akibard, the founder of the Necromancer Guild, using the feathers of storm birds from Mount Saundfest and the feathers of a bird called the Phoenix from an overseas volcano, magically woven together. It can resist not only any form of magic, but also those who have practiced his Dark Meditation technique find it unimaginably effective when wearing it. It's considered one of the most defensive garments in the world. Your striking power will likely only be half as effective against him."
"Then twist off his head," General Grutt's words were still straightforward and direct, but a fire began to blaze in his eyes.