I made it into the town. It was normal—looked just like the others in this region. But even at a glance, I could see the Dashin Empire's influence taking root. Their flag stood tall in the center of the square, marking yet another place absorbed into their ever-growing domain. The streets were cleaner, the people seemed better off, but I knew the cost of that prosperity. The Dashin Empire expanded its reach every day, and with it, the world changed.
Then I felt it.
A pulse of magic. Strong, raw, unrestrained.
Of all the scholars, magicians, and wizards I had robbed, fought, or spoken to, none of their magic felt like this. It wasn't just powerful—it was refined, precise, something leagues beyond the everyday spells of mages and healers.
Whoever this magic belonged to, I couldn't tread lightly.
I followed the source and saw a tent, hastily set up but already bustling with life. Sick and injured people entered, and when they emerged, they were whole again. Some had come in limping, coughing up blood, their bodies failing them. And yet, when they left, it was as if they had never been sick at all.
I thought it might be illusion magic—a trick, a scam—but I sensed no deception, no malice. The magic was real. They were actually healed.
This wasn't good. If this so-called "miracle worker" reached the king before I did, they could claim the reward. That would ruin everything. But if I could use them instead—learn how they did this—then maybe… maybe I wouldn't have to fake my way through the king's challenge. Maybe I could actually heal The Queen.
And if that were the case, then I would have traded my soul for nothing.
No. I couldn't think like that.
Whoever this person was, I had to speak to them.
I stood in line, waiting my turn, eyes scanning the area. There were Dashin Empire guards here—too many. If they took this healer to the king before me, my entire plan would crumble. I had to deal with them. Fast.
Finally, it was my turn.
I stepped inside. The healer sat in the center of the tent, a mask hiding their face, a thick cloak covering them completely, hood pulled low over their eyes. Even their hair was concealed.
And when they spoke, their voice itself was magic.
Not just powerful—unnatural. Altered. Cloaked in spellwork. Voice Transformation. A simple but effective spell, one that could distort a person's tone beyond recognition.
"What brings you, young one?"
Their voice echoed in the room, weighted with unseen force.
"I want you to teach me your magic," I said.
The tent fell silent. Even the Dashin guards shifted uncomfortably.
The healer exhaled softly, then shook their head. "Young one, I may not teach you my magic. But I can heal you."
"Heal me?" I frowned. I was not sick. Not wounded. Not physically, at least. And I didn't need my mind altered. "What is there to be healed?"
The healer tilted their head slightly, as if peering past my words. Then, with unsettling certainty, they answered:
"Your scars, I mean."
My scars…
My burned skin from that day. My back, seared and ruined in the flames. A constant, painful reminder of what I had lost, of what I was fighting to uncover.
I clenched my fists. "I'm okay… If you can't teach me, I'll just leave."
I turned and walked away, but not before glancing back one last time, trying to understand their magic. It was just… so pure. So powerful. Even with their face hidden, I could feel them doing the same—watching me, trying to understand me.
Well… if they refuse to teach me, I guess it's option two.
Kill them before they reach the king.
I left the town, making my way to a nearby hill. There, I set up camp and waited.
Tonight, I strike.