Ever since the predator incident, Finn has noticed knights and volunteer hunters patrolling the town, with some stationed at the entrance to guard against further threats.

  Aside from teaching Risa, today’s mission is to track down Veles, which he left behind after returning to town. Just like when he searched for Risa, he should ask around for clues about Veles’ whereabouts.

  He has to admit he pushed the boy to the back of his mind. But instead of openly inquiring, as he did with Risa, he decides to search for clues subtly. He’s already raised enough suspicion with Inky and Plushie. He doesn’t want to draw more attention to himself and risk unwanted scrutiny.

  If Veles made it through the Dark Time, he would be grown now, even older than Finn’s body age. His hair is dark, like his father’s. As a child, his features echoed his mother’s, but now, perhaps, his face has shifted, taking on more of his father’s shape.

  Finding someone without knowing what they look like, or even mentioning their name, is nearly impossible. But if Veles knows how to find him, that should be enough, right?

  According to the notebook, Veles will seek him out. That means all Finn needs to do is make himself easy to find. Maybe attracting a little attention isn’t such a bad thing after all?

  At the Hunters' Guild, Finn heads straight to the second floor to sell his spoils, stored within his storage stone. To his surprise, the process is smooth, and the payout is fair, though it would be even better if the guild didn’t take such a hefty cut of his earnings.

  All he has to do is retrieve the items from his storage stone and place them on the weighing scale. A magic device assesses their value instantly and displays a figure. The whole process takes only a few minutes.

  He then goes to the back of the guild, where it lies the training ground for Risa to practice magic.

  The training area is a spacious, covered hall equipped with a range of gadgets and weapons. To secure a spot, one must book in advance, and using any equipment comes at a cost. Private rooms, sturdier and reinforced with masking spells, are available for those who prefer training in solitude, though they require additional payment.

  They’ve only booked the public area, not just because it’s free, but because they’re only practising disciple-level spells. Other hunters and trainees are present as well, each absorbed in their own training, whether honing sword skills or refining magic techniques.

  Risa, having learned basic spells from Audrey, is now running through them. Thanks to her talent, Audrey took her on hunts despite her young age and even recommended her for the knight trainee programme.

  “Hi, Finn!” Risa waves enthusiastically as he enters the training ground.

  “Hi, Risa. You’re as energetic as ever. Ready for training?” Finn grins.

  “Yes!” she replies, brimming with excitement.

  “Show me what you’ve got. If you need a target, aim at that one.” Finn gestures toward a dummy at the far end of the room.

  Without hesitation, Risa casts several basic spells every disciple magician knows. When she’s about to release a flash spell, Finn quickly stops her.

  “Ahem. No flash spell here. Or anything you’ve already shown me,” he says, wary of complaints from others sharing the space.

  Risa pouts. “That’s all I know. I’ve only learned the basics.”

  “You don’t know your attribute yet, do you?” Finn asks.

  “No. Audrey said I’ll learn more once I join the trainee programme.”

  Finn nods. “Do you know what’s most important for a magician?”

  Risa thinks for a moment. “Becoming the Great Magician?”

  “And how does one become the Great Magician?”

  “By creating a new spell?”

  “Before that?”

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  “Mastering all spells?”

  Finn shakes his head. “You don’t need to master every spell to be great. Let me ask differently—what do powerful magicians and skilled swordsmen have in common?”

  Both use magic to defeat predators: Magicians by casting spells from their magic vaults, and swordsmen by channelling magic from the vaults through their weapons.

  Magicians focus more on studying the theory of magic, while swordsmen refine their combat techniques. There are exceptions, of course; some magicians specialise in battle magic, and some swordsmen are highly proficient in spellcasting. But generally, magicians excel at magic casting, and swordsmen at wielding their weapons.

  Seeing Risa’s puzzled expression, Finn continues. “Speed. The efficiency of casting a spell or striking with magic-infused attacks.”

  “Most people think disciple magicians just learn the basics before advancing to Scribe once they discover their attribute. But there’s one fundamental skill all magicians and swordsmen, regardless of rank, must master: speed. The faster you cast a spell or strike your weapon infused with magic, the better your chances of survival in battle.”

  Risa nods, intrigued. “How do I get faster at forming spells?”

  “Your basic spellcasting is already quick,” Finn acknowledges. He now understands why Audrey was impressed. Risa’s natural casting speed is remarkable, making her a strong candidate for the knights.

  “Efficiency mainly comes down to talent,” he admits. “Some people can improve through practice, but natural ability plays a big role.”

  Risa’s eyes shine with determination. “So I have a good start?”

  Finn grins. “Exactly. Now, let’s put that talent to good use with training.”

  He instructs her to keep conjuring wind arrows and firing them at the same target until she feels the strain in her magic veins, pushing herself to the limit.

  Once she knows her threshold, he can tailor a training plan to suit her abilities.

  They spend the entire afternoon at the training ground, and it’s only as dusk approaches that Finn calls it a day. Risa would keep practising if he didn’t insist on proper rest for tomorrow’s training. He thinks she’s as headstrong as—

  A familiar, unwelcome headache creeps into his mind. He forces himself to shift focus, redirecting his thoughts to planning Risa’s training on his way back to the inn.

  —

  Late at night, beneath the archway of Mistwood, a group of knights stands vigil behind a magical barrier, their eyes sweeping the darkness for any sign of danger.

  They’ve been on duty for hours, awaiting the next shift to relieve them.

  One knight spots movement in the distance. “We’ve got a predator approaching!” he calls out.

  “What rank?” another demands.

  “About C!”

  “Let’s deal with it quickly,” the leader orders.

  One knight moves to intercept, but his comrade suddenly grabs his arm. “Wait!”

  The C-rank predator isn’t charging to attack. It’s running for its life.

  A massive horde of predators runs out from the bushes. They are chasing the lone predator in front and their number is far too many for a handful of knights to handle.

  “T-They’re B-rank!” a knight stammers. “Call for reinforcements—now!

  —

  Finn jolts awake to the blaring wail of an alarm, followed by a man’s voice amplified by magic.

  “We are under attack by predators! Everyone, wake up and proceed to the Sanctuary immediately!”

  The announcement repeats in a loop, alternating with the alarm. Finn is already fully alert by the first broadcast.

  He springs out of bed, hurriedly throws on his clothes, grabs his belongings, and rushes out of his room.

  The inn is in chaos. Guests pour out of their rooms, hair dishevelled, clothes hastily thrown on, some with bags or loose items dangling precariously from their shoulders as they sprint towards the lobby and down the stairs.

  Spotting familiar faces in the frantic crowd, Finn pushes through towards John and Mira.

  “Mira! John! The speaker said we’re under attack!” he calls out.

  “This is the first time since the Dark Time!” Mira shouts back, barely slowing her pace.

  As soon as they step outside, knights are already in position, guiding the townspeople towards the Sanctuary and ensuring order. Some assist those struggling to move, carrying the injured or elderly to safety.

  Beyond the barrier, the night is filled with the chilling roars of predators, the clash of metal against claws, the sickening sounds of flesh being torn—an orchestra of violence echoing through the town.

  Fear spreads like wildfire. Some people break into a panicked sprint, while others freeze, paralysed by terror. Cries and shouts erupt around them:

  “What’s happening?”

  “Can they hold the predators back?”

  “Where is my son?!”

  “Help me!”

  The crowd begins to break apart, spiralling into chaos.

  Then, a deep, steady voice booms across town, broadcast through magic stones.

  “I am the Warden of Mistwood. The knights are holding the frontlines against the intruders. We ask for your cooperation: proceed to the Sanctuary in an orderly manner. Our people are strong. We will not fall to the predators.”

  His firm, commanding tone cuts through the panic like a blade. The fear gripping the townspeople loosens, and a semblance of order is restored.

  The knights use this moment to usher people forward, ensuring they reach the Sanctuary as quickly as possible.