"Come together now," Novan called.
The scattered flock immediately gathered at his command, moving in perfect harmony without any dogs or staff to guide them. This was his magic at work.
Over eight years of practice, Novan had discovered three fundamental principles of magic: desire backed by mana could achieve wonders, voicing commands aloud required less energy, and the complexity of a wish determined its mana cost—or possibility.
The notion of "complexity" remained mysterious. Sometimes magic granted seemingly impossible requests with ease, while refusing simple ones at other times. When he had confronted the leopard beast days earlier, a basic command like "halt" barely affected it, yet his magically-enhanced sling stone had effortlessly crushed its skull.
As Novan secured the sheep in their pen, a distant scent caught his attention—blood, but not human. It reminded him of a wolf he'd hunted last year.
Soon after, Keorn appeared on the horizon, a dead wolf draped across his shoulders.
"Evening, Novan. Any chance I could stay tonight? This wolf should cover the lodging."
The wolf was valuable—its hide would fetch a good price in the village, and the meat was edible. Novan nodded in agreement.
"Wolves are scarce around here. How far did you travel?"
"Found it near the Sky Mountains," Keorn replied.
These mountains formed an imposing barrier at the western edge of the known world, called the Great Wall by some for their impassable nature.
"That journey must have taken days."
"Half a day at my pace," Keorn said casually.
Novan wasn't surprised—he could accomplish the same with his abilities—but noted that the wizard clearly possessed genuine power.
Later, they enjoyed wolf stew beside a crackling bonfire under the night sky.
"The stars shine brilliantly here," Keorn remarked.
"My mother said this hill is among the highest places in the world, except for the Sky Mountains."
"Nothing compares to those mountains. Even nobles would struggle to cross them."
"I thought nobles possessed godlike powers," Novan said.
"Not all. Though the great house leaders truly are godlike..." Keorn described witnessing the Arabion house leader demolish a hill with a mere gesture.
Novan felt humbled. He had sometimes imagined his powers might rival a noble's, but now realized how minor his abilities truly were.
"Doesn't solitude trouble you here?" Keorn asked.
"Sometimes, but I've adjusted."
"Why not find a wife from the village?"
"What woman would choose this life—tending sheep in desolation?"
"Many young women might happily live alongside a handsome fellow like yourself."
Novan smiled awkwardly. In younger days, some village girls had shown interest, but after his mother's passing and conflicts with villagers, those connections dissolved. They must have recognized the truth—marriage to Novan meant lifelong exile on this barren hill.
After more casual conversation, they fell silent, watching the flames dance. Novan broke the quiet.
"Why do you go to such lengths?"
"What do you mean?"
"Whatever the village head promised, someone of your ability could earn more with far less effort."
With Keorn's skills, he could demand wealth and comfort from any settlement in exchange for protection. No one would refuse. Yet he chose to chase beasts and sleep in shepherds' cottages.
"They are pitiful folk," Keorn explained. "Living in constant fear without magical protection."
He described how countless monsters roamed the fertile regions beyond the hill, preying on helpless humans. As someone with divine heritage, a wizard had a responsibility to protect ordinary people from these threats.
This perspective contradicted everything Novan's mother had taught him about nobles being oppressors and wizards their servants.
Sensing Novan's confusion, Keorn smiled warmly and offered him a cup of milk. "Not everyone thinks alike. The world contains as many viewpoints as people."
The following morning, Novan contemplated their conversation while magically cleaning the sheep pen.
Pride. The concept had affected him deeply. The idea that wizards weren't merely noble slaves but beings who found purpose in protecting ordinary people broadened his perspective. It wasn't enough to make him seek employment under a noble, but it suggested such a life might not be entirely terrible.
His immediate concern, however, was how to tell Keorn the beast was already dead. He'd planned to let the old wizard search until he gave up, but now felt guilty making a kind person waste time.
The problem was that he'd disposed of the creature's body days ago, throwing it into a deep valley. Finding the decomposing remains would be difficult, and the corpse would clearly show signs of Novan's magic—making him the obvious suspect if anyone sought a wizard.
After finishing his chores, Novan decided to locate Keorn. He climbed to the roof, focused his mind, and whispered, "Human search."
His senses expanded dramatically. His vision, normally limited to a hundred meters, could now distinguish grass kilometers away. His hearing and smell heightened to detect insect movements and minute scents, while filtering all unnecessary information to focus solely on finding humans.
Suddenly, he jerked his head toward a sound. His enhanced vision revealed Keorn, bleeding from his forehead and shoulder, facing the half-rotted corpse of the leopard beast that Novan had killed days earlier—somehow reanimated and snarling.
Who would commit such an atrocity? Keorn thought, examining the undead creature.
Dying beings instinctively cling to life, and residual mana can forcibly reanimate a corpse to fulfill its final desires—creating an undead. After killing magical beings, wizards typically absorbed or dispersed this mana to prevent resurrection.
Whoever killed this leopard either ignored this practice or didn't know better. It couldn't have been another beast, as they instinctively consume their prey to absorb mana. The clean hole in its skull suggested a skilled projectile spell.
The beast's decaying vocal cords produced a horrific roar that echoed across the landscape.
"Take this!" Keorn shouted, firing a light arrow from his palm.
Though powerful enough to penetrate steel armor, the arrow dissipated harmlessly against the shadowy aura surrounding the leopard's body—indicating the creature's mana surpassed Keorn's spell.
The beast melted into the ground, instantly reappearing behind Keorn from his own shadow. Despite raising his arms defensively, sharp claws tore through his forearm, drawing blood. Had he been an ordinary person, the attack would have severed limb and torso alike.
This exceeds a wizard's capabilities. At minimum, a lower noble would be required.
Even though undead grow stronger through resentment during resurrection, if Keorn—a seasoned wizard—could barely withstand it, the creature must have been formidable even in life.
The undead approached leisurely, clearly considering its prey trapped. Keorn, sensing imminent death, prepared a desperate final counterattack, channeling his remaining mana into his hand.
Before he could act, a flash of light streaked in from the distance, faster than sound. A simple round stone shattered the undead's rotting head into fragments.