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A pair of dark red eyes watched from afar.
"So this is where you were hiding." he murmured, his voice deep yet mellow.
He leaned against a tree, clad in loose black robes adorned with a white swirling pattern that extended from his legs to his sleeves.
His face was fair and youthful, exuding vigor. A unique gold mark, faintly glowing, sat on the center of his temple.
A light breeze stirred the strands of his long red hair.
His eyes narrowed slightly, his eyebrows barely furrowing.
A cold smile formed on his lips.
"Your efforts did not go to waste after all," he paused, eyes narrowing further, before adding, "...Ryker."
With a swift motion, he turned and walked away.
Rustle.
The dense bushes around him shook as a portion detached from the ground, their green hue fading rapidly.
The vibrant leaves transformed into shiny golden-black scales, aligning seamlessly like dominoes.
The bushes had morphed into a large beast, its tail end buried underground.
Its face bore a resemblance to both a feline and a bat.
Standing on all fours, the beast followed the young man, shaking dirt off its fluffy tail as it moved.
Its hind legs bent backward like a leopard's halfway up their length, while the front legs were straighter, each featuring a long protruding spike near the ankle.
Slightly taller than the man, its length exceeded three meters. Along its back, small needle-like spikes emerged from its nape to the base of its tail, flanked by short fur on each side.
Despite its size, each step was silent. Under each footstep, a cat's paw print remained, marked by three rhombus-shaped holes above a larger oval one.
---
The loud cheers of celebration had subsided, replaced by discussions among mages and warriors.
"That's all for the treatment, elder." a young woman said, wiping sweat from her forehead with her long white sleeve.
Yselda's bloodshot eye had returned to normal—a minor injury at best. She nodded slightly in approval toward the two healers, who bowed and waited by her side.
Their gaze shifted to the young man before them. He sat cross-legged on the grass, eyes closed. His eyebrows and hair were a beautiful milky white, but his skin and body appeared in terrible condition—wrinkled and almost colorless, with jagged black-red lines forming all around.
It was none other than Kael.
Yselda approached Kael, curiosity filling her mind.
Unanswered questions drifted through her thoughts, her troubled expression betraying her inner turmoil.
The healers exchanged uncertain glances. Normally, they would rush over immediately. However, the situation was bizarre.
He was an unfamiliar face, and devoid of any detectable vitality. Despite signs of corruption, no mana leaked from his body, and the grass beneath him remained a vibrant green, rather than the expected ashy grey.
They could only assume he had perished during the fight, with the sword that vanquished the white devil purifying his remains.
"I'll take care of it; you may go." Yselda spoke with a slightly commanding tone.
A familiar, feminine voice emerged from the left moments later.
"You rarely seem so concerned."
Liora approached, with Lyssara following a few steps behind.
Yselda looked at her before responding, "Greetings, Matriarch."
A soft chuckle escaped Liora as she covered her mouth with a gloved hand.
"How nice to hear. You should call me 'Matriarch' more often." she said in a playful, girlish tone. The two had been friends for many years and knew each other well.
Liora's gaze fell on Kael, her expression growing more serious.
"How is he?" she asked, her voice no longer as friendly.
Yselda looked down at the young man. The black-red lines hadn't moved in a while; his condition seemed to be stabilizing.
"I can't be certain. His body lacks vitality, and I can't read the flow of mana."
As if responding to their concerns, Kael's eyes opened slightly. But he remained motionless.
The whites of his eyes bore traces of black lines.
His body exhibited heavy signs of corruption from death mana, yet no mana could be felt.
In a world saturated with mana, could a creature exist without even a sliver of it?
Of course.
All sorts of bizarre situations and abilities can occur.
Physiques that prevent any mana from existing within the body have appeared in the past.
Yselda was perplexed by this.
Elementals are composed of mana, while humans interact with mana through their will.
But how can an undead possess no mana? Such a thing is impossible.
Any physical being represents a branch of life. How can a being that defies life itself exist without the aid of divine mana?
Thus, she could only conclude that Kael was concealing his mana, even in such a state, despite her senses telling her otherwise.
Undead creatures emit death mana. Although intelligent undead like liches can temporarily hide it, they can't stop their bodies from producing it.
Death mana feeds on life, and life mana rejects death. One cannot exist without the other.
This posed a new question. Kael, seemingly unconscious and weakened, had the ability to completely hide his strength.
Concealment would typically require great focus and an extraordinary level of proficiency to evade detection, even from her—a demon's—eyes.
Or at the very least, a powerful artifact capable of deceiving her senses.
Mana sense operates by emitting one's mana and sensing the resistance and responses it encounters, akin to echolocation.
The range, sensitivity, and accuracy vary based on multiple factors. However, with practice, they can all be improved.
If an amateur hides part of their strength, a skilled mage will sense something amiss. However, a skilled practitioner can conceal all traces of their mana.
"Since he is not meditating, let's have Roderic take a look." Liora ordered.
Interrupting someone during mana cultivation can have dire consequences, sometimes even death.
But Kael's open eyes hinted at a lack of focus and a hazed state of mind.
...
Kael's vision was extremely blurry.
As it gradually cleared, he saw a beautiful woman with bright, slit crimson eyes and long silver hair kneeling beside him.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, her expression one of grief.
"Stay with me! Kael, can you hear me?" her voice was unsteady and full of pain.
She hovered above the youth's face, a few teardrops falling onto his cheek.
She moved her fair hand to caress the side of his face, simultaneously wiping away her tears.
Kael's state mirrored the present, but his skin had a youthful glow, and the red fissures on his body oozed fresh blood. He was in critical condition.
His eyes were a deep brown, matching his dark brunette hair, with only a few white strands interspersed.
Summoning all his strength, he lifted his bloody hand from his side and placed it over the woman's.
"I'm sorry, Eris." Kael managed to utter with great difficulty.
After barely speaking, his eyelids grew incredibly heavy.
He tried to resist, struggling to keep his eyes open, but his vision blurred once again.
"No! Kael, no!" Tears streamed down the woman's face.
Just before his eyes closed completely, he saw her clench her white teeth. Unlike a human's, her teeth were sharp—predatory.
With a graceful motion, she raised both hands above her head, toward the left side of her temple.
Between the strands of her long hair were two elegant white horns. She reached up and grasped the base of the left one.
Her eyes were full of desperation, while her teeth clenched even harder.
Blood trickled from her palm, and just as Kael's vision dimmed—
Snap.
The sound of something breaking echoed in his ears.
Kael's eyes opened halfway.
He couldn't see, but he looked around.
With slow movements, he adjusted himself to sit, resting his back against the pillow.
A deep, stoic voice came from a few meters away.
"You're awake? I thought you'd actually died."
It was Vek, lying on a bed too small for his massive frame, covered in white sheets and a plain white pillow.
The room was long, filled with identical beds lining both walls. A treatment ward.
Kael's gaze shifted down—from Vek's face to the sheet covering his lower body.
Where there should have been two legs, only one outline was visible beneath the covers.
Click. The door opened.
"Is everything alright?" came a soft voice, moments before a tall, thin man stepped into view.
With a hurried stride, as if running from something, Roderic—the head physician—entered dressed in his favored green robe.
"I heard a voice—oh!" he stopped short, noticing Kael sitting upright.
"You woke up sooner than expected. How do you feel?"
Kael sat motionless, expression blank.
Then, a faint smile curved his lips.
"You're rather generous to an outsider."
Roderic paused briefly, surprise flickering across his face as he approached.
Then he chuckled, a proud glint in his eyes.
"Generous indeed. How could we leave a distinguished guest in such a state?" he said, walking closer to examine Kael.
"Well, if Vek hadn't been injured, there'd be no chance of getting it out of the treasury." he added with a smirk.
Vek let out a booming laugh, but it quickly dissolved into a rough coughing fit.
A vein popped on Roderic's forehead. He shot Vek a look—half scolding, half exasperated—though his tone was light.
"Did I not tell you to lie down and not move for a few days?"
Vek waved it off, still chuckling between coughs, clearly in good spirits after the battle.
Roderic sighed, the sound heavy in the ward. He shook his head, resigned.
"The Phoenix Tear elixir is miraculous, but its side effects are just as dangerous."
Kael raised his arm, examining it closely. He still wore his black robe, but the sleeve fell as he moved, revealing his forearm.
The cracks on his skin had receded significantly—similar to what happened after he'd used the dragon bone.
Roderic nodded, continuing his explanation.
"The Phoenix Tear floods the body with vitality. But once the effect fades, it leaves the user dangerously weakened."
He glanced toward Vek again.
"Thanks to that vitality surge, the death mana was contained in the leg. I was able to remove most of it with purification magic. But.." his voice lowered, "the damage to the mana vessel can't be treated."
His expression was serious, clinical. But Vek only smiled, content.
"A small price to pay, gahaha!" he said, voice lighter now.
Roderic flinched. "Ah—" He realized too late he'd spoken too freely.
"This terrible habit of mine... I'll lose my job at this rate." he muttered to himself, genuinely distressed.
Just then, a muffled commotion echoed from the corridor.
"Let go, I said let me go!"
"Elder Tess, please! Think about the patients!"
Clang!
The door swung open, loud and fierce.
Roderic tensed, a bead of sweat forming as he cast a helpless glance toward the youth in the room.
With a sheepish smile, he bowed his head slightly.
"I apologize for this, Sir Kael."
Tess stormed in, cane tapping furiously as she pointed straight at him. Two white-robed healers—those who'd treated Yselda—trailed anxiously behind her.
"You!" she barked. "Let me examine you!"
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