After speaking with Vana, I walked back through the tavern's taproom, my mood darker than the fog outside. I found Idris sitting at a small table near the hearth, nursing a mug of ale and waiting for me with anxious eyes.

  I didn't sit down.

  “We leave tomorrow morning,” I told him, my voice leaving no room for argument. “I need you to run some errands. Get supplies—food, water, travel gear—but plan for three extra people. And buy a detailed map of the area. A good one.”

  Idris blinked, confused. “Three extra? But… aren’t you going to eat with me?” he asked, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him.

  I shook my head. “No. I have urgent business with Corbin.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heel and left the tavern.

  Outside, the world was a grey, freezing void. The wind bit at my face, carrying snowflakes that stung like tiny needles. The fog had thickened, swallowing the village in a ghostly haze.

  As I walked across the market square, I saw that the mob had finally dispersed. Two men were on ladders, carefully lowering the crucified woman from the cross. They wrapped her mutilated body in a rough linen sheet with a tenderness that seemed jarring after the violence of the crowd.

  I looked away, shaking my head, and trudged through the snow towards the adventurer’s tavern on the outskirts. The walk was uneventful, just the crunch of snow under my boots and the howling wind for company.

  When I pushed open the heavy door, the atmosphere was… defeated.

  It wasn't the unruly chaos of the morning. Most of the patrons were nursing their drinks in sullen silence. Corbin, however, seemed immune to the mood. He was sitting at the bar, chatting up the voluptuous, red-haired barmaid, laughing at his own jokes.

  In a corner, I spotted Otis. The mountain of muscle was sitting with his cronies, staring glumly into his tankard. They were drinking, but no one was speaking. The humiliation of the morning hung over them like a dark cloud.

  I walked into the room, and Otis looked up. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw me. I didn't even look at him as I passed. I just pointed a finger at him without breaking stride.

  “With me.”

  The command was sharp, imperious. I heard the scrape of a chair leg against the floor behind me as Otis scrambled to obey.

  I walked up to the bar and stopped next to Corbin. He turned, a wide, easy grin on his face.

  “Welcome back, kid! Want a beer?” he asked cheerfully. The barmaid looked at him as if he were insane, offering alcohol to a child.

  I ignored the offer and his grin.

  “Since you won’t tell me what my training entails, I’m going to handle it myself,” I said flatly. “We leave tomorrow morning. And we’re taking that meat hunk with us.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at Otis, who was looming nervously behind me.

  Corbin’s smile didn't vanish, but it changed. The joy faded from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, sharp seriousness. He turned fully on his stool to face me.

  “I’m sorry if it feels like I’m leaving you in the dark,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “But that’s not it. I want you to see this world without prejudice. I want you to be open to everything. If you enter the tournament with a limited mindset—thinking everything will be fair and honorable—you’re going to be in for a nasty surprise. Do not think, just because you’re facing noble brats, that this will be a clean fight. The world is dirty, Grim. You need to see the dirt to understand how to wash it off.”

  I stared at him. For a moment, the drunkard mask slipped, and I saw the veteran mage underneath.

  He was right.

  If he had warned me about the crucified woman, about the brutality of Millstone, I might have approached it differently. I might have looked away. But being blindsided by it… it had forced me to confront the reality of this world head-on. His methods were unorthodox—borderline cruel—but effective.

  I nodded slowly. “Thanks, Corbin. I appreciate the lesson. But next time? Give me a little heads-up. We almost died in that blizzard.”

  Corbin’s grin returned in a flash, the serious moment gone as quickly as it had come. He raised his tankard high.

  “Cheers to survival!” he bellowed, taking a long drink.

  I rolled my eyes and turned to Otis. The giant flinched.

  “Pack your gear,” I ordered. “We meet at the stable at dawn. We’re leaving. If everything goes well, we’ll be back in two weeks. If not… you can leave after two weeks. Either you accept this, or I want my gold piece right now.”

  Otis looked at me nervously, swallowing hard. He looked from me to Corbin, then nodded quickly. “I’ll pack my stuff.”

  He turned and hurried up the stairs, looking relieved to escape my glare.

  I turned back to Corbin one last time. “We’re staying at the tavern on the market square. See you at the stable tomorrow morning.”

  Corbin waved a dismissive hand without looking at me. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He was already turning back to the barmaid, launching into another story.

  I sighed heavily, turning to leave. “This is going to be a disaster.”

  The Next Day

  The dawn was grey and cold.

  I helped Idris load the last of the supplies onto the carriage while Corbin and Otis stood by, looking like death warmed up. Both of them were pale, squinting against the dim light, and moving with the slow, pained caution of a massive hangover.

  Serves them right.

  When the carriage was finally loaded, Idris and I climbed onto the driver's box. Corbin and Otis, groaning softly, crawled into the carriage cabin.

  Idris gathered the reins and clicked his tongue. The horse pulled forward, its breath steaming in the frigid air.

  “Do you know where we need to go?” Idris asked as we rumbled out of the stable yard.

  I nodded and pulled out the map he had bought. It was decent quality. I pointed to a spot I had marked earlier—Vana had described the location of the Clayborne farm to me yesterday. She hadn't begged for her husband's life, hadn't pleaded for mercy. She had simply told me where to find him, with a quiet dignity that said she knew she had no right to ask for anything. She only hoped I would show mercy, understanding that Orin had acted out of fear for his daughter, not greed.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  We drove in silence for a while, the carriage wheels crunching over the hard-packed snow. The journey was uneventful. We stopped a few times for nature calls or to stretch our legs, but otherwise, we kept moving.

  To pass the time, I practiced.

  I summoned small fireballs in my hand, trying to maintain them. But every time I pushed them away from my body, they sputtered and died after a few meters, the cold air snuffing them out.

  Frustrated, I let my hand drop. Idris chuckled beside me.

  “It’s not funny,” I muttered.

  I shot a quick, harmless burst of air magic at him, ruffling his hair and blowing his hood back. He laughed louder, and despite my mood, I grinned too.

  As the day wore on, the snow began to fall harder. It wasn't a storm this time, just a heavy, relentless curtain of white. I decided to try the warming wind sphere again. I focused, weaving the air and fire magic together. This time, without the howling gale fighting me, it was much easier. A gentle bubble of warmth enveloped the driver's seat, keeping the snow at bay.

  Idris sighed in relief. “Much better.”

  Suddenly, through the muffling snow, we heard a sound.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  It was faint, irregular, like someone beating a drum far away.

  Idris and I exchanged a confused look. “Woodpecker?” Idris suggested doubtfully.

  “In winter?” I shook my head. “Maybe a loose shutter somewhere.”

  I checked the map. “We need to turn left soon, into the forest.”

  Idris guided the horse off the main road onto a narrower track that wound between the dark pines. As we drove deeper into the woods, the thumping grew louder.

  THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

  And now, there was something else. A high-pitched sound. Screaming?

  Tension tightened my shoulders. We both scanned the trees, nerves jangling.

  Slowly, the silhouette of a farmhouse emerged from the gloom.

  And the source of the noise became chillingly clear.

  Goblins.

  The farmhouse was a fortress under siege. The windows were boarded up with thick planks. Logs had been piled against the walls to reinforce them. Only the front door remained exposed, and it was under attack.

  A group of goblins was hammering at the heavy wood with clubs and crude axes. Thump. Thump. Crack.

  From inside, I could hear shouting.

  As we closed the distance to about fifty meters, I saw movement at the door. A small hole had been bored through the wood. A spear—or maybe a sharpened pitchfork—jabbed out violently, stabbing at the attackers.

  Jory.

  The desperate shouts sounded like him.

  I banged my fist on the roof of the carriage cabin. The door swung open instantly.

  “Get ready,” I shouted down. “Goblins ahead.”

  Corbin’s laughter rang out, clear and unbothered. “Aye, Aye, Captain!”

  I turned to Idris. “Drive past the house and circle around. Keep moving. I’m jumping off. Understood?”

  Idris looked at me, his eyes wide with fear. He swallowed hard, his knuckles white on the reins. “Understood. Good luck.”

  I nodded at him. A nervous grin tugged at my lips as I stood up on the swaying driver’s box. I climbed onto the roof of the cabin, balancing against the motion of the carriage.

  I had spent the last few months doing two things: searching the Codex Botanica for Pip’s cure, and training. Every spare minute. Push-ups, mana control, physical conditioning. The fight against Tristan Ainsworth had been a fluke, a desperate scramble.

  This? This was the fruit of my labor.

  As we thundered closer, the goblins turned, their attention drawn from the door to the approaching carriage.

  Just a few more meters.

  I slipped my black leather gloves onto my hands. They were supple enough for casting, but the knuckles were reinforced with tempered steel plates. I clenched my fists until the metal creaked. I focused inward, pulling mana from my core.

  Augmentation.

  I flooded my legs with power, saturating the bones and muscles until they felt like coiled springs.

  Gravity: Decrease.

  I lightened my own mass.

  With a massive leap that rocked the entire carriage on its springs, I launched myself into the air.

  I soared.

  The feeling was breathtaking and terrifying all at once. I was flying, an arc of vengeance against the grey sky.

  As I reached the apex of my jump, directly above the group of goblins, I switched the polarity of my magic.

  Gravity: Increase.

  I made myself heavy. Anvil heavy.

  I plummeted towards the nearest goblin like a meteor.

  CRUNCH.

  I landed squarely on its chest.

  The sound was sickening—wet and loud. Ribs shattered, and the goblin collapsed instantly, blood and gore bursting from its mouth as I drove it into the frozen earth.

  I scrambled up, bile rising in my throat at the gruesome sensation, but beneath the nausea, a rush of adrenaline roared through my veins. I felt intoxicated by the power.

  The other goblins stared at me, frozen in shock.

  I didn't give them a chance to recover. I let out a feral battle cry and charged.

  The mana flowed faster now, responding to my aggression. I closed the distance in a blur. The goblins stumbled back, terrified, and I seized the moment.

  I pulled my arm back, channeling both Air and Gravity magic into the limb. It felt light, unburdened, yet impossibly fast.

  Snap.

  My fist flew upward in a vicious uppercut. It connected with the jaw of the goblin in front of me.

  Crack.

  The sound of shattering bone echoed through the clearing. The goblin was lifted off its feet and flung backward several meters, landing in a heap.

  The remaining goblins watched the trajectory of their comrade with wide eyes.

  But fear quickly turned to rage. With shrieks of fury, they raised their crude weapons and charged at me.

  I hopped backward, raising my right palm. I gathered a dense ball of Air magic, compressing it until it vibrated with tension. I aimed at the lead goblin.

  “WIND BURST!”

  I released the spell.

  A concussive blast of air slammed into the goblin, lifting it off its feet and sending it sailing through the air like a ragdoll.

  But the laws of physics were unforgiving.

  The recoil, combined with the slick, icy ground, swept my own feet out from under me.

  Thud.

  I hit the ground hard, the air driven from my lungs in a painful whoosh.

  My head rang from the impact. Stars danced in my vision. But I had no time to rest. The last goblin was on me, raising a jagged axe for a killing blow.

  Panic flared.

  I threw both hands up, desperate, channeling Water and Fire magic simultaneously. Anything!

  The axe whistled down. I jerked my head to the side.

  Slash.

  Pain seared through my shoulder as the blade grazed me, tearing through my gambeson and biting into flesh.

  Screaming in pain and fury, I released the magic.

  A blast of scalding steam erupted from my palms, hitting the goblin point-blank in the face.

  It shrieked, stumbling back, dropping its axe as it clawed at its blistered eyes.

  I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the blood running down my arm. I kicked the goblin’s legs out from under it, sending it crashing to the ground.

  I stood over it.

  A red haze clouded my vision. My ears were ringing. The world narrowed down to the goblin writhing at my feet and the image of the crucified woman in my mind.

  Monster.

  I lifted my foot.

  Mana flooded my leg, concentrating Gravity magic into the sole of my boot. Heavy. Heavier.

  I stomped down on the goblin's chest.

  It screamed.

  I pressed harder. Ribs cracked. Cartilage popped. I felt the resistance give way as my foot crushed the life out of it.

  The screaming stopped.

  The goblin went limp, blood bubbling from its lips.

  I stumbled back, horrified.

  The red haze lifted, leaving me cold and shaking. I stared at the mangled corpse.

  W-what the hell did I just do?

  He deserved to die, sure. But the brutality… the rage… what was happening to me?

  Clap. Clap. Clap.

  The slow, rhythmic sound broke my trance. My head snapped to the side.

  Corbin was walking towards me, clapping slowly. Idris and Otis stood behind him near the halted carriage, both looking pale and visibly shaken.

  “Not bad, kid,” Corbin said, his voice casual. “Points deducted for the shoulder injury, though. Sloppy footwork.”

  He stopped a few meters away, stretching his arm out casually. He raised one hand, fingers curled like a claw.

  Confused, I watched him. A small, condensed ball of fire formed in his palm, swirling angrily.

  Without looking, he spun around.

  Behind him, at the edge of the forest, a goblin—the one I had blasted away with wind—was trying to limp away.

  My eyes went wide.

  Corbin swung his arm in a lazy arc. The fireball left his hand with a screaming hiss, moving with insane speed.

  He turned back to face me, a cool, terrifying grin on his face.

  I looked past him.

  BOOM.

  The fireball connected.

  A massive explosion, easily twenty meters wide, rocked the forest. Trees were uprooted, shattered into splinters. Debris rained down around us. The ground shook.

  When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the goblin.

  Just a smoking, blackened crater in the snow.