The old man adjusted his suit with a self-satisfied grin, watching Theodore closely. "So, little prince," he began, "do you have any other questions?"
Theodore crossed his arms and leaned forward. "You haven't explained who killed the goddess yet. If you're going to keep hiding their name, at least tell me how they managed to kill a god!"
The old man's grin widened, but his voice remained calm. "Patience, young master. That's a story you'll uncover in due time. After all, you're still only ten years old."
Theodore's brow twitched in annoyance. "Ten? My soul is thirty years old, you infuriating old man!"
The old man tilted his head, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing mischievously. "Ah, yes, but physically you're still a child. And, might I add, quite a weak one at that. I could crush you without lifting a finger."
As the old man's eyes gleamed brighter, Theodore felt a chill run down his spine. For a brief moment, he truly believed the old man might just do it.
"But don't worry!" the old man added with a hearty laugh, clapping his hands. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'm merely joking."
Theodore exhaled, his glare sharpening. "You have the worst sense of humor."
The old man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe. But if you're so eager to learn, how about we make this interesting? Solve a riddle, and I might tell you something useful about the gods."
"A riddle?" Theodore blinked, wary but intrigued. "I'm not great at riddles, but fine, let's hear it."
The old man's grin grew sinister. "Fufufu, excellent, young master. Listen carefully:
'In the start of time, the first seven,
Created we humans, with their might.
But one, the most cunning, did deceive,
And to the gods, they brought great grief.
Who was this rebel, the first of kind,
Who dared to kill the gods they made, so crude and blind?'"
Theodore stared blankly at the old man, his brain working overtime. "What… what does that even mean? How am I supposed to know something like that?"
The old man smirked, then knocked Theodore on the head with his knuckles.
"Ow!" Theodore rubbed his head angrily. "What the hell was that for?"
"Check your brain," the old man teased. "The answer's in there now. You just forgot it, but I helped jog your memory."
Theodore felt the knowledge surfacing, though it didn't make the riddle any less annoying. "Damn it, old man. You can't just hit me and implant the question in my brain like I'm some kind of notebook."
The old man waved his hand dismissively. "Think of it as a freebie. Now, let's change the subject. How about I teach you something more practical,like dark magic?"
Theodore tilted his head. "Aren't I already getting stronger with my mana and aura training? Isn't that enough?"
The old man shook his head, laughing. "No, no, no, my little prince . Mana and aura are excellent for fighting mortals and strong beings in this world. But against gods or even demigods?" He scoffed, throwing his hands up dramatically. "You might as well throw rocks at them."
Theodore groaned. "Wait, what? Demigods? You're telling me there are demigods, too? That's just perfect," he said sarcastically, slumping in his chair. "How many other things do I have to fight before I even think about touching a god?"
The old man leaned closer, his grin widening. "Oh, young master, there are many. But don't worry about that right now. Focus on getting stronger. Let me tell you about the dark magic you've been using."
"Fine." Theodore sighed. "Go on."
The old man's tone grew more serious. "Dark magic is derived from the blood of the God of Shadows. When the other gods betrayed him, they wounded him so severely that his blood seeped into the world, infecting it. Humans who came into contact with this divine blood gained the power of dark magic."
Theodore raised an eyebrow. "So I'm basically using his blood every time I cast a spell?"
The old man chuckled. "Yes, but you're doing more than that. You're borrowing power from the book inside your body. That book is made from the God of Shadows' own flesh."
Theodore's eyes widened. "Wait… the book is his flesh?!"
"Indeed," the old man said, tapping his temple. "It's why your spells are so powerful, despite your low natural level."
Theodore frowned. "What do you mean, low level? How strong am I really?"
The old man grinned, clearly enjoying this. "Currently, you're at the third level of dark magic."
"Third level?!" Theodore shot up from his seat, his voice rising. "And yet I can summon massive spells? How does that make sense?"
"That's because you're borrowing from the book," the old man said with a shrug. "Without it, your natural magic is… well, let's just say it's average at best."
Theodore groaned, flopping back into his chair. "Great. So I'm just a glorified borrower."
The old man's grin grew mischievous. "But don't feel too bad, young master. You're still better off than most. In fact, you remind me of someone else who once sought power beyond their limits."
"Who?" Theodore asked, curious despite himself.
"Belial."
Theodore frowned. "Belial? What about him? He's a demon, isn't he? He's supposed to be naturally powerful."
The old man chuckled darkly. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong. Belial wasn't always a demon. He was once human."
Theodore's jaw dropped. "What?! Belial was human?"
"Oh, yes," the old man said, leaning closer as if sharing a juicy secret. "Belial was once a warrior, much like you. But he craved power so desperately that he sacrificed everything,his humanity, his memories, even his soul,to serve the God of Shadows. And look at him now. A powerful demon, yes, but bound forever to a god who barely notices him."
Theodore leaned back, stunned. "Belial… gave up everything?"
"Indeed," the old man replied, his tone turning almost wistful. "He wanted strength at any cost, and he got it. But ask yourself, young master….would you be willing to pay that price?"
Theodore's expression hardened. "I'm not like Belial. I'll grow stronger, but I won't lose myself in the process."
The old man smiled approvingly. "Good answer.But if you change your mind don't hesitate to tell me. Now, let's begin your training, shall we?"
Theodore nodded, determination burning in his eyes. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready to face it on his own terms.