“Mm.” Da’off nodded in agreement. “That works as well. Since things have been rather quiet lately, it’s the perfect time to arrange your upcoming curriculum.”

  “Teacher, I may not be able to stay here for long. My family’s business still needs tending, so I hope we can adjust my study schedule.” Glenn hurried to speak.

  Who would have thought—Da’off chuckled softly. “Heh… Others approach the study of magic with reverence, never daring to make demands. But you, my dear Glenn, seem rather… unconcerned.”

  “Absolutely not!” Glenn waved his hands at once. “I’ve never slacked in my studies. It’s simply that matters in Bayek have become quite complicated. If I stay away too long, I worry about my friends there.”

  Da’off laughed and gave Glenn’s shoulder a gentle pat. “I was only teasing. No need to panic.”

  Only then did Glenn exhale in relief.

  Da’off continued, “Originally, I planned to guide you through several complex courses myself before letting Meiko tutor you. But since you have a request, we shall adjust.”

  He turned to a nearby apprentice. “Chick, fetch my staff.”

  The apprentice named Chick dashed out and soon returned with a bronze-colored staff.

  Da’off accepted it, then lightly twisted the head of the staff toward a spiral-shaped pillar in the center of the room.

  A cluster of boxes of various sizes drifted out from within and hovered before Glenn.

  “These contain different low-tier spells. As long as you master even one of them, you may be considered a First-Level Mage.”

  Glenn blinked in surprise. “That’s all it takes to become a First-Level Mage?”

  “Yes. Don’t underestimate low-tier spells. Each one encompasses most of the foundational theory you’ve learned. Once you reach the level of a First-Level Mage, you’ll understand. By then, even minor spells that aren’t considered low-tier—you’ll be able to create them at will.”

  Da’off’s tone was patient.

  Glenn understood clearly, then looked once more at the boxes floating before him.

  Each box was marked with shimmering golden script:

  Gale Magic — Low-tier, a high-quality composite spell governing the element of wind. Cleansing Magic — Low-tier, a high-quality composite spell wielding the power of erasure. Shadow Magic — Low-tier, a high-quality composite spell commanding shadow elements (Dark-attribute). Meltform Magic — Low-tier, a high-quality composite spell rooted in the principles of transformation.

  And so on—over twenty spells in all, five of them bearing the Dark-attribute.

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  Glenn examined them, uncertain which to choose.

  I should choose a spell that will actually help me… Strength isn’t something I lack, so… He sank into thought.

  Suddenly, he recalled the hunters and mercenaries who had come after him.

  He had cleaned up thoroughly after rescuing the elf—there should have been no trace. They shouldn’t have been able to find him.

  Yet they had. Which meant they must have used something.

  The old man had said the only reason the kingdom’s mages failed to locate him was because a demon had interfered. That meant mages possessed tracking or divination methods. In that case… I should learn something that counters them.

  Having sorted out his thoughts, Glenn asked:

  “Is there a spell here that can erase traces—something that prevents a mage’s divination or tracking from finding me?”

  Da’off pondered for a moment before understanding his meaning. “Ah—you’re looking for interference-type magic?”

  Glenn nodded.

  “You indeed ought to learn such spells. With what has happened in Bayek, precautions are necessary.”

  Da’off gestured toward one of the boxes.

  “Choose this one—Cleansing Magic. One of its functions is the erasure of all traces, whether physical or magical.”

  Without hesitation, Glenn reached out and took the box labeled Cleansing Magic.

  As a Fifth-Level Mage, Da’off naturally possessed refined judgment—his recommendation was worth trusting.

  The box required no special method to open. Glenn merely pried it gently, and it came apart with ease.

  Inside was a weathered little notebook, bound in scuffed cowskin.

  “This was an early notebook of an old friend of mine. The Cleansing Spell is one of his masterpieces. You won’t find it anywhere else. I’ve only read it a few times myself, but guiding you through it won’t be a problem.”

  Da’off’s voice drifted over as he explained its origins.

  “When do we begin?” Glenn asked directly.

  “Now,” Da’off replied with a smile.

  …

  Batsi City. A royal griffin, its radiant feathers shimmering, soared into the city and descended upon the grand estate of the Punk family.

  Servants and knights rushed out to receive it, and Count Punk himself stepped from the villa at once.

  A young soldier in red ceremonial garb dismounted from the griffin. His posture was rigid—like a javelin planted in the earth—as he silently awaited the family to assemble.

  “By royal decree,” he announced once all were present. He drew forth a command scroll adorned with a feathered seal and read:

  “The delegation of the Sehi Kingdom claims the Punk family has illegally captured an elf. Should this accusation prove true, Count Punk is ordered to return the elf immediately and offer apology and compensation to the victim.”

  The decree was brief and direct. Count Punk froze in bewilderment. His third son, however, was already drenched in cold sweat.

  The soldier finished reading, mounted the griffin, and departed—utterly ignoring their reactions.

  Count Punk turned toward his sons, face dark as a storm. “Who will tell me what in the world happened?!”

  The brothers exchanged uneasy glances—only the third son kept his head lowered, motionless.

  Count Punk noticed at once. Striding forward, he seized the boy by the collar and roared:

  “Sawachi! Explain yourself!”

  Sawachi, only nineteen, trembled beneath his father’s fury. Stammering, he confessed everything he had entrusted to the hunters’ mercenary group, including the inexplicable disappearance of his personal guard, Black Sword.

  By the end of it, Count Punk truly wanted to slap his foolish son into the ground.

  “You dared to do something so outrageous, and so brazenly?! Do you wish to doom this family?! I’ve clearly been far too lenient—now the fire has come right back to our doorstep!”

  The servants cowered as their lord raged, while the other sons watched with barely concealed schadenfreude.

  They all knew—Sawachi would never again be eligible to compete for the family inheritance.

  Only after venting for a long while did Count Punk calm himself.

  “With so many witnesses in Dood Town, there’s no denying it. Even if we don’t have the elf, they’ll assume we’re hiding him.”

  He glanced at his sons. “Follow me to my study.”