Jordan's calm gaze met Adam's tense and wary expression. A faint smile crossed his lips as he took a step closer.
"There's no need for you to be so hostile with me, whether you stand with me or against me," he said in a voice both calm and commanding.
Adam's brow furrowed, surprise flashing across his face. He hadn't expected such composure from the man in front of him.
His grip tightened beneath the blanket, the invisible Wind Bullet still hovering in his palm. "I'll decide whether I need to be hostile or not," Adam snapped, his frustration bleeding through his words. "First, tell me—who are you?"
Jordan took another step forward, his measured movements deliberate and non-threatening. "I know you're scared," he said gently. "But you don't need to be. You're safe here."
Adam's frustration boiled over. He sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing. "Safe? That's for me to decide!" he shot back. The mana in his hand swirled faster as he lifted his hand slightly, ready to strike.
Taking a deep breath, Adam uttered the spell: "Wind Bullet."
Immediately, the air around his palm shifted, condensing into an invisible sphere of compressed energy.
The magic hummed softly, a tangible force ready to unleash devastation at a moment's notice. Adam pointed his hand toward Jordan, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.
"You don't understand. This is a powerful magical spell. I can kill you in seconds."
Jordan stopped in his tracks, his sharp eyes locking onto the swirling sphere in Adam's hand.
For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint sound of the spell's energy. Then, to Adam's astonishment, Jordan smiled—a mixture of amusement and admiration lighting up his face.
"Why don't you try, then?" Jordan said, his tone almost playful.
Adam blinked, taken aback. His heart raced as he struggled to make sense of Jordan's confidence. Who is this man? Adam thought.
Adam has cast this spell just to scare him. He just wants to hear the answers to some questions. Adam doesn't want to kill anyone without reason.
He had no intention of attacking Jordan—not yet. His primary goal was information. He needed answers, and this old man was the only lead he had.
Adam's concentration wavered as a faint sound interrupted his focus. His stomach growled loudly, the pangs of hunger impossible to ignore.
His face flushed with embarrassment, and he instinctively glanced down.
Jordan chuckled softly, his smile widening. "See? Even your body is telling you what it needs," he said with a lighthearted tone. "Put the spell away, and eat something."
'Is this old man crazy that he is not scared of my spell at all?' Adam is thinking all these things.
Before Adam could respond, Jordan stepped closer. He carried a wooden tray with a bowl of steaming food, the aroma wafting through the room. The scent was warm and inviting, making Adam's hunger even more unbearable.
Without hesitation, Jordan placed the tray on the edge of the bed, right next to Adam. His calm demeanor didn't falter, even with the Wind Bullet hovering inches away. "Here," Jordan said, gesturing toward the bowl. "Eat. You'll feel better."
He turned and left the room without another word, leaving Adam alone with the food and his spiraling thoughts.
As soon as the door closed behind Jordan, Adam exhaled sharply and released the spell.
The Wind Bullet dissipated mid-air, the compressed energy dispersing in a gentle breeze that rustled the room.
Adam lowered his hand and stared at the food in front of him.
The bowl contained a simple but hearty stew, chunks of meat and vegetables floating in a thick broth. Despite his hunger, Adam hesitated.
His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and suspicion. What is going on? Who is this man? And where am I?
As his thoughts raced, memories of his family flashed in his mind—his parents, his village, the people he cared about.
Panic rose in his chest, overtaking his hunger. "What if something happened to them?" he muttered under his breath.
Adam has to find out about his parents and what happened to them. He doesn't know what happened to his parents and his village.
Abandoning the food, Adam jumped out of bed and strode toward the door. He threw it open and stepped into the next room.
The room he entered was larger, dimly lit by the warm glow of a fire burning in a stone fireplace. The scent of wood smoke filled the air. In front of the fire, a wooden sofa sat, its surface worn but sturdy.
Jordan was seated on the sofa, a wooden bowl of soup in his hands. He sipped slowly, using a wooden spoon, his posture relaxed as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Adam's eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail—the wooden walls, the rustic furnishings, the small shelves lined with jars and tools. This place was unlike anything he was used to, yet it exuded a sense of simplicity and purpose.
Jordan glanced up as Adam entered, his expression unchanged. He continued sipping his soup as if he had been expecting this moment.
Adam clenched his fists, raising one hand instinctively. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "And what did you do to my family? My village?"
Without waiting for a response, Adam whispered another spell. "Fire Inferno."
adam cast this spell in English due to which the spell got casted immediately.
The air in front of his hand shimmered as a small flame appeared, spinning rapidly.
It grew in size with each passing second, the heat intensifying until the fireball was nearly the size of Adam's hand.
Jordan's eyes widened slightly, his face betraying a hint of surprise. The corner of his lips curved upward once more, impressed by Adam's quick mastery of such a spell.
Raising one hand, Jordan spoke calmly. "Don't worry. Your family and your village are safe. If you want answers, you'll get them. But first, eat. You need your strength."
His tone was steady, unyielding yet oddly comforting. Jordan's presence seemed to fill the room, commanding respect without force.
Adam hesitated, the fireball still swirling in his hand. Jordan's words hung in the air, a quiet reassurance that began to chip away at Adam's doubts.
And with that, the chapter ended, the room still tense as the flames danced between them.
The air cooled as the fiery sphere Adam had conjured flickered out of existence. The tension in the room remained thick, but without the oppressive heat, the atmosphere shifted.
Adam's piercing gaze stayed locked on Jordan, scrutinizing every flicker of the older man's expression.
The absence of fear or hostility in Jordan's demeanor, coupled with the assurance that Adam's family was safe, quelled some of the storm brewing inside him.
Yet, his mind was still a whirlwind of questions. Answers—he needed them, and he needed them now.
Deciding to set aside his hunger for the moment, Adam stepped forward with purpose.
The wooden sofa creaked slightly as he sank onto it, sitting directly across from Jordan. His posture was rigid, and his emerald eyes burned with determination as they bore into Jordan's.
"Look, old man," Adam began, his voice cold and clipped. "I don't know who you are, but if you're telling the truth, then tell me everything. No half-truths, no riddles."
Jordan let out a long sigh, running a hand over his weathered face. Frustration flickered across his features, though it seemed to stem more from exhaustion than anger.
"Fine," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "If you want answers, then listen carefully."
He straightened slightly, his gaze steady. "My name is Jordan. I was an elder member of the Sword Soku Clan."
The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Adam's eyes widened briefly before narrowing.
He shot to his feet, the wooden floor creaking beneath his sudden movement. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"So, I've been captured, haven't I?" he said sharply, his voice cutting through the quiet room like a knife.
Jordan didn't flinch. Instead, he raised one hand in a calming gesture, his other still holding the wooden bowl of soup.
His voice remained calm but firm. "Sit down and listen. Don't jump to conclusions before hearing the whole story."
Adam hesitated. He studied Jordan's face for any signs of deceit but found none. The older man's demeanor was steady, almost unnervingly so.
Reluctantly, Adam sat back down, though his body remained coiled like a spring, ready to act at the first sign of a threat.
Jordan's lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile. "Look, kid," he said, his tone softening slightly, "I used to be a member of the clan, but not anymore. I left them years ago."
Adam's sharp gaze stayed fixed on him, but this time, he didn't interrupt. Instead, he sat in silence, watching and listening, his mind racing to process every word. Encouraged by Adam's unexpected patience, Jordan continued.
"I cut all ties with them a long time ago," Jordan said, his voice tinged with bitterness. He placed the wooden bowl beside him, turning his full attention to Adam.
"When you were unconscious, I was the one who found you. I also made sure those people left the area."
Adam blinked, his guarded expression slipping for a moment as surprise registered on his face. "You made them leave?" he asked, his tone disbelieving.
Jordan nodded, his expression serious. "So, no one will attack your village right now."
For a fleeting moment, Adam felt a wave of relief wash over him. But it was short-lived. He noticed the shift in Jordan's expression—the way his shoulders seemed to sag slightly, the way his eyes grew heavy with unspoken weight.
"Listen, boy," Jordan said, his voice taking on a grave tone. "I made a deal with your parents—a condition. They agreed to it, and now I'm giving you the same deal."
Adam's relief vanished, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. His jaw tightened, and his voice was low but firm as he asked, "What condition?"
Jordan sighed deeply, pausing as if to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his words were heavy with grim certainty.
"If you think your village and family are safe now, I'm afraid I have bad news for you. The Sword Soku Clan will never leave your village alone. They failed this time, but next time they'll send even stronger warriors. Your village is now their enemy."
The words hit Adam like a physical blow. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart pounded against his ribs. He leaned forward slightly, his fists clenching on his knees.
"What are you saying?" Adam demanded, his voice rising with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "What did we ever do to them?"
The question echoed in the room, but even as he asked it, memories began to surface. Adam's mind raced through the events that had led to this moment.
He remembered the battles—the bloodshed. He had fought their warriors, killed them. But then, another, darker thought struck him.
He remembered the vision he had seen of the future—a vision where the Sword Soku Clan had already been planning to destroy his village.
And Mark's words rang in his ears, a haunting echo of confirmation. The clan's task had always been to annihilate his home completely.
Adam's thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm. Anger, fear, and guilt churned within him, each emotion vying for dominance. His breathing quickened as he struggled to process the weight of it all.
Across from him, Jordan watched in silence, his expression unreadable. The room seemed to grow quieter, the tension thick and oppressive.
And yet, amidst the storm of emotions raging within him, one thought rose above the rest—a burning determination to protect his village, no matter the cost.
The chapter ends here.