It was pitch dark after Baston lost consciousness.
It was not the kind of darkness that one encountered when closing the eyes. It was not the ordinary absence of light that came with sleep. This darkness pressed his soul.
The unbearable pain that struck him earlier had not merely knocked him out. The last sound that lingered in his fading awareness was a single word that screamed against the chaos.
"Assassin…"
Around him, the people panicked. The guards shouted and the wizards flared their mana wildly into the night. They believed someone had targeted Harry as the head of the family.
However, only him that knew the truth. There had been no assassin since it was only a punishment from the old book.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
The world returned not with sound but with scent. It was a faint sandalwood, a clean linen, and a trace of mana that was lingering like dew after the dawn.
The punishment was really harsh. If he was outside, he might have died terribly. Fortunately, he was inside Alicia's house.
His gaze adjusted. He was not in the modest guest chamber that was assigned to him earlier.
The ceiling above was higher and the bed beneath him was vast. The mattress was softer than anything he had ever experienced. The heavy curtains framed the tall windows and few ornaments gleamed under the filtered daylight. Each piece was exuding a quiet wealth rather than loud extravagance.
This was not a guest room anymore since this was a room of status. For a brief second, a flicker of unease passed through him.
Why he was here instead the usual one?
He pushed himself upright and his body felt unusual. It felt too light and too refreshed.
There was no soreness, no heaviness, and no weakness that usually followed the prolonged sleep. Instead, his muscles hummed with vitality. He felt as though he could run across the estate grounds without losing breath.
The punishment had consumed him and then it had ended as if nothing had happened.
The door opened abruptly. A maid stepped in, carrying a tray and froze. Her eyes widened and the tray nearly slipped from her hands.
"Master! Everyone! The boy has already woken!"
She ran out before he could respond. Several footsteps echoed in the corridor that stirred on the surrounding.
The first to arrive was not Alicia. It was not Theodore and not even Harry. It was Angus.
The old wizard did not walk. He arrived in a rush of compressed air with his fluttering robes. His hair was unsettled by his own wind magic. He landed beside the bed with far less dignity than his status suggested.
Baston blinked toward such aggressiveness.
If it had been Alicia who was rushing to his side, the scene would have carried a certain elegance. However, an elderly great wizard who was arriving first with slightly uneven breath created a different kind of mystery.
"Are you alright?" Angus demanded immediately, "Is your body still hurt?"
"I'm perfectly fine," Baston replied, "By the way, how long have I been sleeping?"
Angus hesitated for a few seconds, "It's already a week…"
Indeed, the time of passing out was exactly as described. The old book never lied about the time.
Baston nodded calmly, though inwardly he acknowledged the precision of the punishment. There were no allowed resistance and interruption.
As they spoke, the others arrived.
Alicia entered next. She was quite composed but pale around the edges. Theodore followed behind her with sharp gaze. By then, the elders came before finally, Harry himself entered the room.
The atmosphere shifted the moment the head of the family stepped inside. Everyone instinctively straightened.
Harry approached the bed and bowed slightly, signifying a gesture that stunned even the watching elders.
"Thank you for protecting me," Harry said solemnly, "If not for you, the assassin would have succeeded in ruining this family. I cannot thank you enough."
"You are too kind, my lord…" Baston replied modestly, "I only acted on instinct."
Harry laughed softly, though the sound lacked full ease.
"Then rest well… The matter of your stay here will be borne by me. Take your time to recover before returning."
After a few more formal words, he then left. The elders followed and the room became silent. Only
Alicia and Angus remained. After that, the questions soon began.
*****
After Baston lost consciousness, the chaos had erupted.
The guards sealed the mansion. The wizards cast detection spells across the corridors and gardens. Not a single servant was allowed to move freely until they were cleared of suspicion. Even though so, no intruder was found.
There was nothing at all after the assassin successfully launched a sneak attack. Only Baston who had been lying collapsed beside Harry.
The healers were summoned immediately. His wounds appeared fatal with mana backlash, internal damage, and nerve shock. Yet strangely, the injuries did not behave normally.
The healing magic worked but he did not wake. One day passed before it became three and seven days full. The healers could not explain it.
His body was stable, his heart was steady, and his mana circulation was intact. And yet, he remained unreachable. Eventually, they had feared the coma had embraced him.
Baston listened quietly and he knew the truth. The punishment had locked him away and no spell could break it.
He offered a faint apology for causing such worry. Neither Alicia nor Angus pressed him further. Outside the room, however, the events had taken a darker turn.
*****
Harry did not believe in coincidence.
If someone had dared to attempt the assassination within his estate, then someone had to pay.
The searches began immediately. The villages were inspected, the towns were questioned, and the suspicious individuals were detained.
As the result, many thugs vanished, several gangs were dismantled overnight, and the criminal groups that had operated quietly for years were erased in few days.
Some called it a justice but the others whispered another word which was bloodbath.
The surrounding region shifted overnight. The crime plummeted and the blackmailers disappeared. The public praised the noble house for cleansing the rot. The respect deepened and the fear deepened as well.
Baston listened to Alicia who recounted this.
A chill crept up his spine since his penalty had created such ripples. People who knew nothing died in the end. However, Harry remained unsatisfied.
No assassin was found and not even a rumor. It was as though the attacker had never existed and that was what troubled him the most because an unseen enemy could strike again whenever they wanted.
Angus eventually leaned forward, "Baston, I want to ask something…"
"Yes?"
"You were the first to react that night. Do you remember anything about the assassin? How the person looked like?"
Baston shook his head slowly, "It was too dark and I hardly saw him."
Angus narrowed his eyes, "Since you said him, how could you know the assassin was a man if you saw nothing?"
"It comes from my instinct…"
The word lingered and Angus studied him. Anyone else would have sounded absurd but this came from Baston. A boy who had faced Joker directly and a boy whose reactions defied the explanation.
Angus did not press further. Still, a subtle thread of doubt remained in the air. It was not suspicion of guilt but it was suspicion of the mystery. There were too many gaps.
After a while, they excused themselves. Before they were leaving, Baston made a request.
"I would like to visit the library..."
Angus frowned lightly, "But your health…"
"I've been in bed for a week. If I stay longer, my head will rot."
Alicia smiled faintly at that and the permission soon was granted.
*****
The library of the mansion was vast.
The tall shelves stretched upward like silent towers. The sunlight filtered through high windows, illuminating the dust motes that floated lazily in golden beams.
It rivaled the academy's collection. Perhaps, it even exceeded it.
Baston walked slowly among the shelves. His fingers brushed across several books. He did not reach for advanced magic and combat manuals anyway.
Instead, he selected the general classifications about wizard ranks, knight hierarchies, and kingdom relations.
He sat near the window and began reading.
Alicia remained nearby, watching every movement of him. For her, every action that he took carried weight. He was not someone who acted without purpose yet, he studied the basics.
She could not understand since he was already capable. There was no need for basic knowledge to someone like him.
Meanwhile, Baston absorbed the information carefully from junior wizard, senior wizard, expert wizard, great wizard, and arch wizard.
Angus stood near the peak while he stood at the base. The gap was enormous but such gaps were measurable. What could be measured could be surpassed.
He also studied about the political landscapes, neighboring kingdoms, alliances, neutral factions, merchant consortiums, and religious orders.
He read about how power moved through his own perception. The more he read, the more he realized something important. The ranks were only one layer and the elements were another.
He flipped a few more pages and found a section that was discussing the elemental evolution.
Common elements such as water, fire, and wind formed the foundation of magical study. They were considered stable and adaptable, allowing the wizards to develop based on personal inclination. Most academies focused on these three pillars.
However, the history recorded something deeper.
Certain bloodlines did not merely wield these elements. They refined them to the extreme. For example, ice was not simply a frozen water.
The book described it clearly that ice was the authority over the stillness. The water adapted and the ice commanded.
True ice element did not rely on temperature alone. It was structured mana crystallization. A wizard with ice element did not merely freeze the surroundings. They slowed the movement, restrained the space, and altered the battlefield tempo itself.
His gaze lingered on the next line about the Versance family who had inherited ice magic for generations.
Their lineage had refined it into an art. It was said that an ice arch wizard of Versance once immobilized an entire enemy formation without killing a single soldier.
With just one move, it suppressed the initiative and momentum. No wonder the Versance stood firmly among the noble elites.
He turned toward another page and it was about fire at the moment.
The fire was explosive, passionate, and destructive. It spread outward and consumed recklessly. Many wizards favored fire for its offensive nature.
However, there was something beyond fire which was flare.
The text described flare as the condensed brilliance. Where the fire burned, the flare pierced. Where the fire devoured, the flare erased.
Unlike ordinary fire, the flare reacted directly with mana. It did not simply rely on heat since it destabilized the magical structures, turning defensive spells into brittle and fragile.
The Herbiens family possessed flare from the beginning.
Their lineage had refined fire to such an extent that its purity surpassed ordinary combustion. The records suggested that flare could slice through high-tier defensive barriers that common fire could never scratch.
Baston's fingers paused slightly. He suppressed the faint warmth beneath his palm.
The ice belonged to Versance and the flare belonged to Herbiens. Two greater evolutions within two noble inheritances.
Baston closed the section slowly. He realized the greater elements were not a simple upgrade. They were refined manifestations, authority, and legacy.
He leaned back slightly with thoughtful eyes.
To keep the authority intact, it would be started by how they guarded their inheritance. As long as they kept it rare and pure, the authority would be safe in their hands
*****
Meanwhile, outside the library doors, Theodore stood in the corridor. He was watching how his sister locked her sight into Baston.
Alicia's gaze remained fixed on him longer than necessary. It was not affection. It was not openly but it was more like interest. A deep interest that made him confused.
Theodore frowned because such romance was incomprehensible to him.
He had seen no sweetness between them. There were no gentle gestures and no exchanged glances that were filled with warmth. Even though so, something existed between these two people.
It was something quieter and more mysterious.
He shook his head toward such phenomenon. Even if there were feelings, the family would never approve.
Poor class and noble class did not mix so easily. The heroic acts could earn a gratitude but it would not end for the marriage. Not only that, there was still Clark in the noble society.
The boy was more prestigious, politically advantageous, and arrogant. Some people disliked him but the nobles did not marry for preference. They married for the balance.
He sighed before he returned to the others.
Though he did not know what was happening between Alicia and Baston, he could only assume it would only exist for a while. With a passing time, everything would be soon forgotten.
*****
Inside the library, Baston turned another page from certain book. The text before him described something subtle.
It was about the assassination patterns. Most successful assassinations required the preparation. It needed routes, escape paths, and internal assistance.
Yet in his case, there had been no trace. There were no infiltration, no residue, and no mana signature. It was all nothing.
He closed the book slowly because that was the true mystery. Not how the assassin vanished but how everyone accepted the existence so easily.
He leaned back slightly while pondering about the assassination that he created.
If someone had truly entered the estate, at least the people would have trembled. If someone had truly attacked, at least the mana fluctuation would have been recorded. If someone had truly escaped, at least the footprint would remain.
However, there was nothing because there had been no one. It was only him and the old book.
He glanced briefly at Alicia who quickly pretended to examine a nearby shelf. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
The estate was searching for a ghost. Harry was mobilizing the forces against an illusion and Angus was analyzing an enemy that never existed. The surrounding region bled for a phantom threat.
Once the mystery born, it lived longer than the truth.
The story of the assassin would persist because no one could find what was never there.
And as long as they searched outside, no one would search within.