Soon they returned home, yet the atmosphere that greeted them was grim and dark, as if someone had taken the blackest ink from the library and poured it over every corner of their sanctuary. Adam met his Master’s gaze, both of them silent, yet equally worried at what could possibly happen in the span of a single day. They were ready for answers.

  They joined his parents at the table. For a moment, no one spoke. The air was heavy with an oppressive weight, making every breath feel like a struggle. The ticking of the clock on the wall was unbearable, each second echoing like a hammer against an anvil. Soon, his Father broke the silence.

  “We have to flee this Kingdom.”

  His voice was raspy, thin, and filled with a primal fear that shocked Adam to his core. What did he mean by flee? Adam felt lost, his mind racing through the implications.

  “What exactly happened, Kriss?” Berto answered decisively.

  Adam could see his Mentor was already in focus mode, his posture rigid as he prepared for the worst.

  “I visited the slums again today. It is worse. I do not fucking know what is happening anymore.” Kriss stopped for a moment to catch his breath, trying in vain to calm his shaking hands before he continued. “The three mages who visited us, together with the entire garrison of Tier 1 soldiers, are gone. One night, and they are completely vanished. Nowhere to be found.”

  Hearing that statement made Adam’s stomach drop heavily. The silence that stretched after that was even more oppressive than before. Three Tier 2 mages and a whole garrison of Tier 1 lost at the hands of Dark Mages? What exactly were their plans? If a force of that magnitude was lost, did it mean a Tier 3 Dark Mage was finally making his move? The thought terrified him. He, too, would be a perfect target for whatever twisted ritual they had in mind.

  His mouth felt dry, and he could feel cold, ice-like sweat beginning to coat his back. Even his Master seemed lost for an answer. As Adam looked at his parents, his fury began to outweigh his fear. They looked as if they had seen a ghost, especially his Father. He had never seen them in such a broken state.

  But they could not run. He knew it, and Berto knew it as well. They would meet an even worse fate if they tried to cross the borders now, but how could he explain that to them?

  “We cannot flee the Kingdom. At least, not yet. I cannot share with you as to why, but you have to put your trust in me on this one.”

  Berto’s voice was decisive and heavy. His knuckles were turning ghostly white from the force with which he was gripping his robes. Adam watched as his Father met his Mentor’s gaze. The silence lingered, a silent battle of wills, until his Father’s head finally dropped in quiet acceptance.

  “I understand. I will not drill for answers right now. I will put my trust in you. For now, I need rest.”

  He stood up from the table together with Adam’s Mother and left for their room. Soon, there was a heavy thud as the bedroom door closed behind them. The silence between Adam and Berto stretched for a long moment.

  “Master, what do we do now?” he asked, unsure of anything.

  He felt devastated, not only by the state of his parents and the storm brewing outside, but because they could not even tell them the truth. They had to lie, and it felt like a boulder he had swallowed, weighing him down from the inside.

  “We have to wait for now. Either this will pass and we will be free for a moment from this threat, or it will get worse and the Kingdom will be so occupied that we will have an opportunity to flee. Now, we need patience,” he replied after a moment, his voice still decisive. There was still a glimmer of hope hidden beneath.

  “I understand, Master.”

  “Well, Adam, we still have to talk. First, tell me, did anything change in your dream?”

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  Adam thought about his answer for a moment before replying, “The voices were a bit more intense, but that is it.”

  His Master looked at him for a while and finally nodded, stating his next question, “So tell me, then, what did you exactly do while the Magic Stone was testing your potential? It was not a normal process, and they surely realized something was wrong, even if you achieved the desired outcome.”

  Adam felt a jolt of shock hearing that. Something was wrong? They had noticed something? But what, and why?

  “Well, I would not have been able to do it the way you taught me. So, I improvised and decided to decay it from the beginning instead. I succeeded with the last wave.”

  “I see. So you cracked the entire process to show only what you wanted. It must have been easier, yes, but that had its own flaw. We noticed something going differently, even if we could not pinpoint it. They likely sent messages stating as much before their demise, so we are now certainly under intensified watch. But even with that, if the Tier 3 Dark Mage makes their next move, they would be occupied too heavily to stop us from fleeing.”

  Adam nodded silently, absorbing what his Master told him. He remembered the phantom crack he had felt while interrupting the process, a jagged tear in the expected flow of mana. This was likely what had stood out. But there was nothing he could do about it now. They had to wait for the development of the storm and decide what to do then.

  Soon, they both went to rest, as the day, especially its frantic end, had been tiring enough. Adam laid on his bed, his mind heavy with thoughts about everything he had uncovered before the darkness of sleep finally claimed him. There was no dream.

  Time passed, falling into a monotonous yet productive routine. They would eat and learn, focusing on improving his control over merging his will with mana and channeling spells. He practiced telekinesis with small, jagged rocks or conjured flickering lights that danced at his fingertips like trapped spirits. Sometimes, instead of training, they would return to the library, which Adam grew to know more intimately with each visit, yet his deepest questions remained unanswered.

  The rumors that circulated suggested the lost mages were never found, fuel for endless, fearful speculation among the citizenry. Heavy patrols now roamed not only the slums but the Middle District as well, each soldier alert to the point of paranoia. Weeks blurred into months, yet the situation remained in a precarious stalemate. The amount of people vanishing from the slums never dropped, nor did it intensify. Rarely, a weaker patrol would vanish into the shadows, yet nothing more occurred that would break the eerie silence of the Kingdom.

  Soon, his 11th birthday arrived, and with it came a small, quiet party thrown at his home. It was a small feast with his parents and Master, a fleeting moment where everyone could share happiness and cast their worries aside for a single day. As quickly as the anniversary arrived, it passed. The clock ticked on without pause, yet the situation remained stagnant, as if the world were frozen in time. It was the eerie silence found in the eye of a storm.

  Half a year after his 11th birthday, while they were sitting under the shifting, skeletal shade of an ancient tree, Berto spoke.

  “It is time I bring you knowledge about Tier 2, so you can start progressing toward it. Unlike Tier 1, which you are now fully accustomed to, Tier 2 is much harder to reach.”

  He watched the swaying shadows on the grass and continued, “We call it Mana Flesh. It earned its name because, upon reaching it, your flesh will be reinforced with mana, granting you the peak strength and durability a human can possess. To reach it, you must guide mana through your body while visualizing it hammering your muscles and skin, as if they were iron in a forge. You are building yourself anew.”

  His voice turned grim, his gaze becoming distant, as if he were looking at ghosts from his own past. “It is an extremely long and painful process, so be prepared for that.”

  Adam looked silently at his Mentor and nodded. The pain did not matter. He had to progress further, for he needed the power to protect those he loved and to crush the threats that loomed in the dark. Moreover, he sought the answers that were constantly gnawing at his consciousness.

  He was ready to start immediately. He closed his eyes and merged his will with mana, a feat that came much easier to him now after months of relentless training. He finally understood why Berto had insisted he read every anatomy book in the library. Precision was required to survive this reforging.

  He decided to focus on his muscles, choosing one group at a time. His first target was the thenar muscles in his right hand. He visualized the intricate fibers beneath his skin and guided the mana to begin hammering them, as if he were a master smith crafting the work of a lifetime.

  As soon as the process began, he was instantly jolted by a searing pain that flooded his entire being. It was not the cold dread of Mana Overload; it was the raw agony of muscles being unmade. Destroyed. Reforged. He knew his Master had warned him, but he had not expected the pain to be this visceral.

  He gritted his teeth sharply and began again. He continued his work for several hours. Aside from the pain, he could feel the target area becoming denser, more durable, yet he was nowhere near the limit. Adam realized he was supposed to do this with every muscle and patch of skin in his body, and there were over six hundred muscles to account for.

  It would take a lifetime of agony, and the pain would likely only intensify. Yet, there was nothing else to be done.