Ronan stood frozen, as the darkness from above slowly enveloped him inch by inch.
He stared blankly at the figure riding the flock of crows, feeling despair for the first time in his life.
If Faor was a sun, then the light emanating from this newcomer was ten times more intense.
But it was black, like a twisted black sun, or a black hole, absorbing all light and the souls of those who dared to gaze upon it.
Ronan found himself unable to move, as if bound by an unseen force from afar.
In that moment, a thought sprang unbidden to his mind—
The true master of the Corpse Garden had returned.
The figure among the crows approached, and Ronan finally saw the man's face.
He was young, with short brown hair and fair skin, neither particularly handsome nor unattractive.
His wine-red eyes and an innate aura of wickedness gave him an indescribable, compelling presence.
Unlike typical wizards, he wore uniquely styled armor with blood-red patterns flowing across it.
A long black cloak trailed behind him, as he was surrounded by countless red-eyed crows, like a king of shadows among the crows.
He stood before Ronan, the black sun scorching Ronan's nerves.
His gaze swept the surroundings, and his first words to Ronan were—
"You destroyed my house."
Ronan's heart trembled, and he opened his mouth, unsure of what to say.
In front of this man, whose power clearly surpassed Faor's many times over, Ronan felt no desire to even attempt resistance.
Though the man spoke reproachfully, his expression seemed indifferent.
Instead, he appeared more interested in Ronan himself, his gaze lingering on Ronan with curiosity.
The crows around him also fixed their cold stares on Ronan.
In that instant, Ronan felt suffocated, as if he might be killed by their gaze alone.
After about half a minute, the man spoke again, in a tone of awe, pulling Ronan from one abyss and casting him into another.
"I really want to dissect every inch of your body to study it thoroughly."
"Just a ninth-level apprentice, yet you've grasped two distinct Transcendent Domains... and your soul's aptitude is so poor."
Ronan felt icy cold, as if plunged into a frozen abyss, even his blood seemed to freeze.
"But... this land is so barren and decayed.
It's rare to have someone as interesting as you; it would be a shame for you to die as a sapling."
The man looked at Ronan with a peculiar gaze, licking his lips as he softly spoke, "You dared to kill a formal wizard of Hoddam... I seem to smell a kindred spirit in you."
Ronan struggled to breathe, finally mustering the strength to speak, though his voice trembled uncontrollably.
"So... I won't have to die?"
"Of course."
The man was surprisingly agreeable, nodding and smiling at Ronan, "And you must live well.
Yes, that's a threat."
Ronan's face twitched slightly, and he remained silent.
The man glanced at Ronan, then suddenly the crows swarmed over him.
Their beaks and claws tore at Ronan's flesh, bringing intense pain.
Ronan thought the man had changed his mind and tried to struggle, but the man's voice sounded in his ear, neither warm nor cold.
"You'd better not move; let them cleanse the 'resentment mark' from you. Did you think killing a formal wizard only required destroying the body?
If you leave here now, you'll be found and killed by Hoddam's wizards within half a day, then have your soul extracted and burned until it ceases to exist."
Ronan's heart chilled at these words, and he dared not resist, allowing the frenzied crows to peck at his flesh.
Just as Ronan thought he might be pecked to death, the crows dispersed, leaving him tattered and gasping for breath.
The man looked at Ronan with satisfaction, as if pleased with his current state.
After a moment of appreciation, the man casually tossed something to Ronan.
Ronan instinctively caught it, finding it to be a potion.
Another Spirit Ignition Potion!
But it seemed different from a regular Spirit Ignition Potion, with a mysterious, deep purple hue mixed with the red.
"You'll find it useful."
The man winked at Ronan, "With your aptitude."
Then, the man's gaze shifted from Ronan to the sky, where the crows hadn't covered.
"I should deal with those rats too.
It's quite rude to sneak in and cause trouble while I'm away."
He sighed, his body lifting off the ground, the crows on the grass taking flight.
"Oh, by the way!"
Before leaving, the man turned back, looking down at Ronan with a smile, "Don't forget what I said; make sure you don't die before our next meeting.
Otherwise...
I have ways to find your soul, seal it in the most durable and beautiful toilet, and send it to the busiest town in the mundane kingdom for public use."
Ronan shivered at the thought, unable to imagine the consequences.
As the man truly seemed to be leaving, Ronan seemed to remember something, biting back and shouting, "Who are you?"
The man's voice drifted back with the departing crows, like a low chant.
"Anglair, they call me, Passage of the Crows—Anglair.
Though I don't like the nickname."
"Anglair..."
Ronan repeated the name, looking at the unique Spirit Ignition Potion in his hand, cursing under his breath.
"Are all formal wizards such perverts?"
For a moment, he considered discarding it, but realized he was still on "Passage of the Crows—Anglair's" territory, and dared not.
Pulling his robe tighter, Ronan hurried in the direction Anglair had come from.
He didn't need to know what was about to happen behind him, nor did he want to.
In a bright, cramped room without windows, only a magical crystal lamp on the table illuminated the space.
Ronan sat on a chair, beside a girl about his age, plain-looking with a ponytail, wearing an academy wizard's robe.
They had been sitting together in this room for a long time.
A woman's screams penetrated from outside, even the [Soundproof] rune couldn't fully block them.
"I don't believe it! I don't believe Faor is just dead!!..."
"Sorry, Laura. No one expected the Corpse Garden's master to be Anglair, the most outstanding genius of this generation in the Forest of Whispered Death."
"So what if he's a genius? He couldn't have killed Faor without leaving a trace!
The things I gave Faor should have let him escape even from a second-level wizard."
"There are always unexpected events, Laura. In the end, Faor is dead."
"Ah!"
The screams outside kept the two inside tense, especially Ronan, truly feeling guilty, able only to pray Anglair's erasing methods were effective.
Perhaps to ease the tension, the ponytail girl couldn't help speaking to Ronan.
"You seem seriously injured."
Her gaze fell on Ronan's crow-inflicted wounds, imagining his ordeal escaping the "Corpse Garden," filled with sympathy and pity.
"It's nothing, just surface wounds."
Ronan shook his head, thinking of the deceased Rainey, his tone somber.
"Better than those who didn't make it back."
"Indeed."
The girl nodded, then couldn't help but complain softly, "Faor said before we left that it was an easy task, just a chance to earn contribution points."
Ronan felt a chill.
Yes, it was the background-less gray robes who suffered.
"...Even Faor is dead! How come those two insects survived!
It was them! They must have caused Faor's death! I want them dead too!!!"
The woman's voice outside rose to a peak, the sound waves piercing their eardrums.
Ronan could imagine the hysterical, nearly crazed expression behind it.
Their briefly calmed nerves tensed again.
They sat uneasily, when suddenly someone burst in, nearly making them jump.
"Jerome, sir!"
Ronan recognized the newcomer.
Short hair, red patterns.
It was Jerome, the formal academy wizard Ronan had spoken with during the chaotic night.
The ponytail girl also greeted Jerome.
Jerome clearly remembered Ronan, nodding and saying, "I recall your name is Ronan, right.
There's nothing more for you here, you both can leave. The task rewards will be given to you later."
Ronan and the ponytail girl breathed a sigh of relief.
They thanked Jerome and hurriedly left the interrogation room.
As they reached the door, they heard Jerome's calm, authoritative voice, "Laura, don't make a fuss!"
Outside, the sunlight dispelled their unease.
Ronan and the ponytail girl exchanged glances, as the only two survivors of the "Corpse Garden" task, having undergone questioning together.
Now, finally "escaping with their lives," they felt a sense of shared understanding and empathy.
They naturally walked together down the path outside, within the true Hoddam Academy.
Ronan felt a bit dazed, not expecting his official entrance into Hoddam Academy amidst the dark wizard invasion to happen like this.
Beside him, the ponytail girl seemed to take a liking to Ronan, unbothered by his wandering wizard status, chatting with him again.
"You'll probably officially stay at the academy now?"
"Can I?"
Ronan was surprised.
"Of course."
The ponytail girl nodded, "Jerome said the rewards will be given.
Since you've taken the academy's Spirit Ignition Potion, you belong to the academy.
Someone should come arrange your enrollment soon.
You could refuse, but I doubt you'd do something that foolish, right?"
She playfully winked at Ronan, her ordinary features seeming cuter with the youthful gesture.
Ronan nodded, replying, "I suppose so."
"Then we'll be real companions."
The ponytail girl cheerfully extended her hand to Ronan, introducing herself, "Let's officially meet, I'm Jo—"
Ronan was about to reciprocate, as the girl's self-introduction barely began when—
"Thud—"
The sound of something piercing flesh, Ronan experienced the spray of warm blood on his face for the second time.
Along with shattered organs...
His extended right hand froze mid-air, eyes fixed on the ponytail girl's chest, where a—spiked, dark green, serpent-like, or perhaps tentacle-like appendage had "grown."
The ponytail girl, equally stunned, looked at her chest, blood gushing from her mouth, her plain face filled with shock and disbelief, rapidly paling.
"Whoosh—"
The next second, the ponytail girl was swiftly pulled away from Ronan.
The appendage that pierced her body dragged her, flinging her like a ragdoll onto the distant grass, where she lay twitching feebly.
Sunlight shone directly on Ronan's face, glaring, yet he felt no warmth.
He saw a figure silhouetted against the sun, staring intently at him.
A petite woman, with exquisite features, seaweed-like dark green hair, and lips of the same hue.
From her back sprouted several thick, spiked, dark green tendrils. Coupled with the vine-like green markings on her face, Ronan realized they were a type of plant.
A plant-based spell.
The woman stared coldly at Ronan, her eyes devoid of warmth.
She met Ronan's gaze and spoke firmly, "You... killed Faor!"
Ronan's lips trembled, nearly revealing the truth.
Fortunately, a figure surrounded by fireballs arrived swiftly from above.
"Laura!
You've gone too far!"
Jerome's broad frame shielded Ronan, radiating heat, his voice filled with suppressed cold anger.
"He killed Faor! It was him!"
The woman with seaweed-like hair grew agitated, her runes glowing, pointing at Ronan and shouting.
The tendrils behind her lashed out, trying to kill Ronan as they had the ponytail girl.
Ronan retreated, Jerome's lava fire ring blocking the mad woman's attacks.
The energy clash left whiplash-like marks on Ronan.
Grass and buildings around them were destroyed like fragile cake.
This was a true battle between first-level wizards, its power terrifying.
"Get out of the way, Jerome! Don't stop me, I know it was him who killed Faor!"
The woman screamed as she attacked, her madness and murderous intent palpable.
Jerome shook his head coldly.
"You're insane, Laura. He's just a ninth-level wandering wizard apprentice!
We've examined him thoroughly; there's no trace on him from Faor's last moments."
"So what? I know it was him!"
"You need to calm down."
"Get out!"
The woman's scream unleashed an indescribable mental force, her tendrils bursting through Jerome's lava fire ring.
As they rushed toward Ronan—
There was a "whoosh—"
A hurricane seemed to pass in a second, Ronan's hair and robe whipping back.
He felt the air around him vanish, an immense pressure making it hard to breathe.
Ronan strained to see, catching only a blur of green wrapping the mad woman, swiftly pulling her toward the academy's depths.
The woman struggled and screamed, then suddenly calmed, her green eyes locking onto Ronan, filled with deep-seated hatred.
Ronan watched her disappear.
"The second time."
Ronan took a deep breath, speaking softly with a calm face.
"The second time for what?"
Jerome had appeared beside him, asking casually.
Ronan paused, then glanced at the ponytail girl's corpse with a bitter smile, "It's the second time I've seen someone suddenly die in front of me."
Behind his feigned bitterness, Ronan's heart was cold and hard.
This was also his second time, so close to death, feeling helpless and desperate!
He truly didn't want there to be a third.
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