CHAPTER 36: GHOST TOWN

Lorraine had always wondered... what exactly was power?

From a young age, she had been drilled endlessly by her mother and several tutors on the arts of magic.

They had called her a genius.

She still remembered standing in those cold marble halls, reciting incantations while a circle of robed elders nodded approvingly, whispering amongst themselves about her future potential as a mage that could even reach the 8 circle.

A mage was someone who could draw upon the mana that naturally permeated the air, refining it into spells.

To most, it was mystical.

To Lorraine, it had been as natural as breathing.

The principle was simple: more mana meant a stronger spell.

Even the most basic of attack spells could be amplified into something devastating if enough mana was poured into it.

But that came with its own price.

If one’s control slipped, if you fed too much mana into a spell whose framework couldn’t handle it, it wouldn’t merely fizzle out — it would implode violently, tearing through the caster’s body from within.

This was why magic was feared, even among those who practiced it.

There were formal ranks among mages, based not on prestige but on how many circles they had successfully formed.

Every mage began with their first circle: a condensed loop of pure mana forged around their heart.

It was a foundational barrier that stabilized their power, allowing them to wield spells safely without burning out their life force.

Lorraine had formed her first circle in less than a day — a feat unheard of, even in her clan.

She had mastered elemental attack spells, defense barriers, even support magic like reinforcement and healing.

And yet...

As she stood now, watching Azel casually seat himself on a broken patch of grass surrounded by the carnage he had wrought, she felt it deep in her chest:

’Compared to him... am I even talented at all?’

The boy wasn’t a mage.

He didn’t channel mana.

He didn’t speak incantations or weave sigils in the air.

He simply moved effortlessly, with a blade in hand and crushed his enemies as if it was second nature.

Azel stretched, yawning audibly.

"I’m tired," he whined, lounging back on the grassy patch as though he hadn’t just turned twenty armed men into ash.

Lorraine bit her lip, holding back the sharp retort bubbling in her throat.

She wanted — desperately wanted to berate him, to kick him square in the back and tell him not to speak so casually after a display like that.

But she couldn’t.

Instead, her mother’s words rang in her head: "If you find a man strong enough to make you feel safe, court him. Strength is the foundation of stability."

Her father wasn’t strong, but her mother had loved him regardless.

She had only wanted her daughter to marry someone who could shield her from the dangerous world they lived in.

At least that’s what her mother told her and she was conflicted on whether to take this advice...

Azel stood suddenly, dusting himself off.

His gaze passed over her before he extended his hand down to her, casual and unbothered.

"Let’s get back to the carriage," he said, tone light but commanding all the same.

Then he smirked faintly. "Unless you’d rather wait here for the next group of bandits."

Lorraine hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand.

’Why does he say that like it’s nothing?’

Her pride screamed at her not to take it.

But against her will, her fingers slid into his palm, his grip firm and steady as he helped her to her feet.

...

The carriage was silent at first.

Gerome drove at a brisk pace, glancing warily around the treeline for more threats.

Lorraine sat across from Azel now in the carriage , her gaze flickering toward him more times than she could count.

He sat relaxed, eyes closed, one arm resting lazily against the window as if he hadn’t just split the earth with his sword.

Her voice finally broke the silence. "Sir Azel... you learned those sword techniques from someone, didn’t you?"

He cracked an eye open, meeting her curious gaze.

"My master," Azel replied simply.

Lorraine’s posture straightened. "Your master? Then... is he someone I could meet?"

Azel’s lips quirked slightly.

He remembered, faintly, from the game: Lorraine had always been obsessed with finding strong mentors, anyone who could give her the strength she craved to one day take back what was stolen from her.

"He’s... difficult," Azel said vaguely, smirking to himself as Steven’s lazy face flashed in his mind. "But yes, he’s powerful. The kind of powerful that makes even Kings nervous."

Her crimson eyes gleamed faintly.

"Someday," she murmured under her breath, more to herself than him.

Just as Azel was about to respond, the carriage jolted violently to a stop.

"Whoa!" Gerome pulled hard on the reins.

"We’re here. This is supposed to be Crowhollow Town..." His voice trailed, confusion settling in.

Azel leaned slightly forward, peering through the front window.

Crowhollow was a small but bustling trading hub that sat between Deymoor and Starbloom City.

At this hour, it should’ve been alive with noise — vendors calling out their wares, carriages lining the streets, mercenaries loitering near taverns.

Instead, silence greeted them.

The gates were open, creaking faintly in the wind, and the streets beyond were... empty.

They were seriously abandoned..

The horses hesitated to move forward, pawing nervously at the dirt.

"This is wrong," Gerome muttered, frowning deeply. "Even at night, Crowhollow’s never this quiet..."

Lorraine’s grip tightened on her dress.

"Why does this feel like..." Her voice trembled slightly. "...a ghost town?"

The carriage rolled forward cautiously, wheels rattling over cobblestone.

The air felt heavier here, oppressive.

Azel’s sharp senses immediately picked up on it.

Eyes.

Hidden eyes, peering at them from shadowed windows and cracked doorways.

Whispers barely audible over the wind. Curtains shifted slightly, then snapped shut.

A cold chill ran down his spine.

And then —

[New System Quest Issued.]

The text flared in front of Azel’s vision.

[Quest: Slay Monsters (1)]

[Objective: Slay [0/1] Shadow Wraiths]

[Reward: ???]

Before he could react, the world abruptly shifted.

Colors drained away like spilled ink in water.

The greens of the trees, the blues of the sky, the warm browns of the buildings — all gone, replaced by stark shades of black and white.

Despite it being Monochrome... he had to admit... it looked beautiful.

"Get down!" Azel suddenly shouted, increasing the gravity for the father and daughter as they were pressed into the ground face first.

In the next instant, A shaking blur appeared in front of Azel, it’s form was flickering but it looked angry.

"So this is what a Wraith looks like?"