After destroying the beast's head with a single shot, Novan approached Keorn, sling in hand.
Helping the knight was risky—if Keorn reported a talented young magic-user to his house, Novan might need to flee immediately. Yet he intervened because protecting guests was his duty as guardian of Windcrest Hill, and because the old knight had shown him genuine respect.
"Are you injured?" Novan asked.
But Keorn's attention remained fixed on the fallen creature. "Watch out!"
The headless leopard suddenly rose and lunged at Novan. Where its skull had been shattered, an eerie pale green light materialized.
Thanks to the warning, Novan evaded by kicking the beast away. Though it tumbled several meters, the creature appeared undamaged.
"Physical attacks won't kill an undead!" Keorn called.
"How do I destroy it then?"
"Fire or lightning!"
Novan attempted to ignite the beast, but his sparks fizzled out ineffectively. Seeing this, Keorn realized Novan was indeed the one who had killed the beast originally—he lacked even basic knowledge about magical creatures and the necessity of dispersing a dead beast's residual mana.
"Don't light fire—create and throw it!"
Despite Keorn's concern that direct flame manipulation required special training, Novan conjured fire above his palm, spinning it before launching it toward the beast like one of his stones.
The creature howled as magical flames caught its spectral form. It tried frantically to extinguish the fire by rolling on the ground, but the enchanted blaze consumed its mana relentlessly.
Unlike Keorn's ineffective attacks, Novan's magic clearly overpowered the creature's. He maintained his focus, channeling energy to sustain the flames enveloping the beast.
After half a minute, the spectral energy shrieked and the physical body disintegrated completely.
"Is it truly finished?" Novan asked, panting.
"Yes... Now absorb its mana, unless you want another undead encounter."
The process wasn't complicated—Novan simply extended his hand and imagined drawing in invisible energy. Immediately, an aura matching the creature's spectral color flowed into his body.
The sensation was entirely new to him—something accumulating inside, transforming him into something stronger yet more alien than before. The strangely pleasurable feeling raised goosebumps across his skin.
"This is your first time absorbing mana?" Keorn asked incredulously.
"Yes."
"Difficult to believe..."
Typically, magical ability grew slowly with age after first awakening, but without absorbing mana from defeated creatures or other magic-users, that growth remained minimal. If Novan's current power came solely from innate ability, his potential was extraordinary.
Recognizing this, Keorn cleared his throat and asked respectfully, "I apologize for my earlier familiarity, young master. May I ask which house claims your allegiance?"
Novan found Keorn's deference uncomfortable. Though he couldn't articulate why, seeing the old knight humble himself felt wrong.
"Let's tend your wounds before talking."
Blood still trickled from where claws had torn Keorn's scalp.
"Ugh," Keorn winced as Novan applied medicinal herbs to his head and wrapped it with clean cloth strips.
Novan possessed herbs and bandages for such emergencies. While healing magic would have been preferable, his past attempts to mend his mother's injuries had shown that healing others consumed enormous mana—even emptying his reserves would barely mend half the torn scalp.
"My apologies, young master, to have someone of your standing performing such tasks."
"As I've repeatedly said, I hold no special position. I'm merely a shepherd who doesn't know his father's identity."
Novan fixed Keorn with a firm stare that clearly said: stop this deference.
After a brief contest of wills, Keorn relented. "Fine, fine... stop looking at me that way."
Novan smiled slightly at this.
"But why would a gifted magic-user like yourself work as a shepherd in such isolation? I mean no disrespect to shepherding, but it seems ill-suited to your talents."
The question mirrored what Novan had asked yesterday about why someone of Keorn's abilities hunted beasts in remote regions.
"It's rather a long story."
Novan shared his childhood experiences—discovering magic, his mother's warnings about the dangers awaiting magic-users below the hill...
After listening attentively, Keorn nodded. "She was wise."
"You believe so?" Novan asked, surprised by this unexpected response.
He had anticipated that Keorn, who took pride in his position, would dismiss his mother's fears as exaggerated.
"Around twenty years ago, my House Arabion warred against the great House Zahar. Of Arabion's three thousand wizards, nearly a thousand perished."
"A third lost their lives."
"The true tragedy was that everyone dear to me fell among that third—my closest friends, my wife, my son. I alone survived."
Keorn's expression conveyed emotions beyond description. Novan couldn't begin to measure such grief, though he imagined it equaled or exceeded the pain of losing his mother.
After prolonged silence, Keorn brightened and changed subjects.
"As your mother warned, a wizard's life can indeed end more capriciously than even a commoner's. But if she erred in one aspect, it's that your talent exceeds mere wizard level."
"Is that possible?"
"It's humbling to admit, but I'm considered quite capable among wizards. Yet even I struggled against that beast which you dispatched effortlessly—and that was before properly absorbing mana."
Taking a sip of sheep's milk, Keorn declared: "Such ability places you among highborn ranks—and elevated ones at that."
The statement felt unreal to Novan, perhaps because he'd spent his life believing his mother's assessment of knight-level talent. He wondered if Keorn was vastly overestimating him.
"My mother claimed my father was a wizard. Could she have been mistaken?"
"Just as tall parents sometimes produce short children, exceptions occur. Though rare, highborn occasionally sire children weaker than wizards, and wizards sometimes produce highborn-level offspring."
"Given this, you should consider leaving the hill," Keorn suggested.
"For what purpose?"
"Because humanity needs more highborn and wizards. We haven't yet mastered this world. Beyond beasts, various races banished by ancient deities watch for opportunities to return. Meanwhile, highborn waste resources warring among themselves. We desperately need more powerful, benevolent individuals like yourself."
Other races... these beings appeared only in old tales his mother told, seeming as fictional as gods themselves. Yet apparently the world below considered them genuine threats.
"Besides, it saddens me seeing such talent wasted. You aren't fulfilled living as a shepherd, are you?"
Novan remained silent briefly before acknowledging the truth with a nod.
"Don't overworry about your mother's concerns. While ordinary wizards may face difficulties, even great houses show basic respect to fellow highborn. This applies especially to powerful ones like yourself."
"You're suggesting I needn't fear forced servitude."
"Like all in life, certainty eludes us, but..."
Conflicting emotions battled in Novan's mind—the temptation to believe Keorn versus the lifelong fear of highborn tyranny.
While Novan contemplated, Keorn waited patiently from his bandaged position on the bed.
After nearly an hour, Novan asked quietly, "What might I gain below?"
Recognizing the willingness to explore contained in those words, Keorn smiled. "That depends on your desires. Wealth, renown, influence, perhaps family and friendships... none are attainable here."
Keorn outlined various possibilities—wandering and destroying threatening beasts, exploring unknown territories, perhaps joining a house and pursuing power...
One certainty remained—any option seemed more appealing than tending sheep on Windcrest Hill forever.
"I forgot to ask earlier—do you possess any bloodline abilities? I should have inquired first."
"Bloodline abilities?"
When Novan questioned this unfamiliar term, Keorn realized his oversight.
"You understand our magic originates from our ancestors, the divine Prea clan?"
"My mother mentioned this."
"Highborn, being closer to divine lineage, inherit characteristics of their godly ancestors. These bloodline abilities distinguish highborn from wizards. Houses typically gather those sharing identical bloodline traits."
"How does one identify these abilities?"
"Have you noticed certain magic comes particularly easily to you? Or perhaps you naturally possess capabilities superior to others even without magic?"
"It's unlikely my strength exceeds others?"
"Magic-users gain physical enhancement merely by possessing mana. The desire for greater speed, strength, and resilience is instinctual. While exceptional strength represents one bloodline trait, I don't believe yours reaches that threshold."
Novan considered his distinctive abilities.
"I possess keen smell. My vision and hearing surpass others, but my sense of smell remains most exceptional."
He could distinguish bleeding creatures solely by scent.
Keorn nodded. "Extraordinary olfactory sense... if truly that precise, it certainly qualifies as a bloodline trait. What else?"
"I excel at slinging stones, though that stems from childhood training with my mother."
Novan had practiced since age five—stone slinging provided shepherds their most effective defense against wolves and leopards. He'd also noticed it required minimal mana when enhancing projectiles.
"Projectile weapon proficiency. That's characteristic of House Arabion, though whether it reaches bloodline level remains uncertain."
"Indeed?"
"It's actually quite common—excellence with projectiles, close combat proficiency, or moderate skill in both. Most fall within these categories."
They continued categorizing Novan's strengths and weaknesses, but Keorn's expression darkened progressively throughout their discussion.
This somber demeanor intensified until, after their final exchange, his face bore an almost mournful look.
"I believe I understand."
"What conclusion?"
Keorn hesitated repeatedly before reluctantly speaking.
"Several possibilities exist... but Zahar bloodline characteristics appear most prominent. They're also called Pursuers, or Hunters."
As Novan considered the name "Zahar," it felt strangely familiar despite never hearing about magical houses from his mother.
Observing Keorn's grim expression, he understood why.
Zahar was the house that had warred against House Arabion, slaughtering all of Keorn's loved ones.