CHAPTER 62: CHAPTER 61: AUTUMN MAGIC

Oliver ran with whatever strength was left in his body, even though he felt extremely exhausted.

His feet slammed against the ground as they sank into the mud scattered across the forest floor.

Behind him, that massive creature charged without slowing down, and the sound of its horns cutting through the air pushed Oliver’s nerves far beyond their limit.

The horns drew so close they nearly touched his back, but before his insides could be torn out, he leaped forward in pure desperation, grabbed onto a tree trunk and started climbing. His fingers slipped and his legs shook as he pulled himself upward.

He barely reached the top, but relief was the last thing he found. He did not get even one second of it.

The creature struck the tree from below with its enormous horns. The impact made the entire tree tremble.

Oliver clung tighter, wrapping his arms around the trunk until his knuckles turned white from the strain.

The masked man continued watching from a distance, hands in his pockets, not lifting his gun or moving even a single step.

Another strike made the tree shake violently. Then a third. A fourth. And eventually, everything crashed to the ground.

The tree toppled with a thunderous sound that echoed through the entire forest.

Oliver flipped with it, his body slamming against the earth. A thick cloud of dust exploded outward, completely blocking the view.

The creature stood before the swirling dust, growling with sharp, vibrating rage.

From afar, the sage and Aria watched the scene unfold.

Worry was obvious in the sage’s eyes, while Aria remained completely calm as she observed everything.

When the sage saw Oliver climbing while the creature shattered the tree, he glanced at Aria.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

Aria didn’t look away from the scene.

"Yes. All of this is to force him to use the Magic of Mythical Creatures."

"The Magic of Mythical Creatures...?"

"It’s something beyond you. As a human, you won’t understand it."

The sage frowned.

"It’s the same magic the Great Spirit of Autumn uses. Is Oliver even capable of using this kind of magic?"

Aria turned to him.

"Right, you’re the agent of the Spirit of Autumn. I forgot that part."

He ignored her remark and continued sharply.

"Still, does he really need to be chased ten times by the same creature just to use this magic?"

Aria shook her head.

"That’s not exactly how it works. He needs to reach a real state of danger. A state close to death. Only then the magic might appear."

"You think he could actually die doing this?"

She almost said no. The word was on the tip of her tongue. But then she remembered who was handling this training.

The masked man.

Her eyes widened.

"Damn it...!"

She bolted forward, and the sage followed immediately as they sprinted toward the dense cloud of dust.

When the dust finally began to clear, they froze where they stood.

Oliver was standing on top of the creature’s corpse.

The creature wasn’t just dead, it was completely restrained.

Thick black threads resembling roots had burst out from the ground itself, wrapping around its limbs, torso, and neck, tightening so hard its ribcage had cracked under the pressure.

The threads were everywhere, spreading from every direction, with Oliver standing at the center. His chest rose and fell at an extremely fast pace.

His hands trembled, his eyes widened, and a faint orange light glowed from them.

No one had expected this moment, except for the masked man who had been watching from afar.

As soon as he saw what happened, he walked toward them with steady but quick steps.

The sage, frozen in shock, didn’t even notice the masked man passing by him on his way straight to Oliver.

He spoke in a low voice as he stood beside him, "Congratulations, kid. You did it."

The moment Oliver heard that, he collapsed onto the ground beside the creature’s corpse, gasping for air.

The sage and Aria exchanged a silent look before turning to the masked man, who reached into his bag and pulled out a small bottle filled with a pale green liquid.

He opened it, leaned slightly toward Oliver and extended it to him. "Drink a little. Not too much."

Oliver took the bottle with a trembling hand, brought it to his lips and took a tiny sip. But the moment it touched his tongue, he spat it out and started coughing violently.

The taste was catastrophic. Incredibly bitter. Like fermented rotten herbs turned into poisonous juice.

He glared sharply at the masked man, eyebrows drawn tight. "What is this? Rotten grass juice?"

"Kid, do you have any idea how expensive that dose is?"

"And how exactly am I supposed to know? You could’ve warned me before giving me something that tastes like grass mixed with pure bitterness."

"You should be grateful you even got the chance to drink it. Now take another sip. Using magic puts huge pressure on the body, especially since this is your first time using that type. You might end up with your body exploding if you don’t act fast."

Oliver froze for just a single second, swallowed, then raised the bottle again and took a very tiny sip, barely touching his tongue. Even so, he forced himself to swallow it.

The instant it went down, his body curled and his eyes widened as a shocking surge of pain ripped through every cell.

He felt overwhelming heat spreading as if his skin burned from the inside.

It lasted for one second only.

The longest second of Oliver’s life. He screamed from the intensity of it, unable to hold back the sound.

Then, suddenly, the pain stopped. And he felt a wave of energy filling every part of his body.

His eyes widened even more, and he stood up as the small scratches covering his arms and chest began to fade.

He then turned toward the masked man.

"Why didn’t you tell me that drinking that thing would make me feel this much pain? Were you trying to get rid of me?"

The masked man took the bottle, sealed it tightly, and answered with a tone showing zero concern.

"You’re exaggerating. With the amount you drank, the pain barely lasts a single second. You’re fine."