Whoosh!
The moment Ur pushed open the door, a strong gust of wind suddenly attacked from the side. Ur's expression didn't change. He stepped back lightly, drawing the cheap sword at his waist in a flash. A flash of cold steel, and a pitch-black arm dropped to the ground.
Before the attacker could even scream, Ur stepped forward again. The blade flashed, and a figure appeared behind the door, clutching its neck, emitting a few meaningless "cackling" sounds before collapsing helplessly to the ground.
The light from outside the door finally revealed the true face of the attacker.
"Huh?" Ur's curiosity was piqued. This attacker was unlike anything he had imagined—it didn't even seem entirely human.
Dark skin, black scales densely covering the sides of its face, veins visible on its neck and arms, red as blood.
"What the hell is this thing?" Ur poked at the corpse briefly, then lost interest. It was weak, offered almost no magical energy when defeated, and didn't seem edible either. In Ur's eyes, this thing was essentially useless—a complete waste.
He continued forward.
The space behind the pitch-black door was not small, but the light was faint. Ur relied on the dim glow to navigate, feeling as if he were slowly moving along an alley toward the lower levels of the castle.
"Tsk, whoever designed this castle is some kind of genius," Ur murmured in admiration.
From climbing up from the first floor to the top, and then back down toward the basement, the design felt almost absurd—like doing something pointless just for the sake of it.
Roar! Awooo~!
Suddenly, low growls and erratic footsteps echoed ahead. Unknown creatures were rapidly approaching.
They were the same species as the trash Ur had just killed, but this time, there were many more.
"Roar!" The creatures sped up as they saw Ur, their eyes glowing red, attacking him frenziedly without any rational thought.
In this situation, Ur's brain didn't need to think. This trash wasn't worth using a strategy on—just cut them down.
A glint of cold light in his eyes.
Drawing his cheap sword, Ur charged at the enemies like a tiger among sheep. One slash, one fallen creature, and soon, the alley was filled with corpses.
The battle ended swiftly.
Feeling about twenty to thirty points of magic added to his body, Ur sheathed his sword and stared at the corpses, deep in thought.
[(ー_ー)!!]
Ur realized he might have misunderstood what a "mage" meant. Recently, his physical skills had increased rapidly, as had his swordsmanship, but his magic progress was only average.
"Did I misunderstand my path as a mage?" he wondered.
Those clustered enemies were the perfect opportunity to unleash magic. Multiple targets could have been obliterated in a single spell, yet his instinctive reaction was to hack them down one by one with his sword.
That was pure brute-force behavior.
His future dream was to be an elegant mage!
Ur was frustrated, especially when he looked at his newly forming eight-pack abs, which made him even more annoyed.
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The corridor descended far deeper than the castle's height. Ur had lost track of how long he'd been walking when a sudden gleam of light caught his eye.
He quickened his pace and discovered that at the end of the corridor was a laboratory. The lab was chaotic. Broken experimental equipment lay scattered on the floor, as if looted by bandits. It was silent, save for the echo of Ur's footsteps as he entered.
The lab wasn't large. Aside from the equipment he initially saw, the rest consisted of prison-like cages, most of them empty.
Walking past the cages, Ur suddenly saw a disheveled figure slowly appear.
"Mr. Singer?" Ur called out softly.
The figure seemed to hear him and slowly lifted bloodshot eyes. "Is that you? You've come to rescue me?" Singer recognized Ur immediately, his expression filled with excitement. He scrambled to get up and rushed toward him.
"That's right. Someone commissioned us to rescue you," Ur nodded. "Please step back a little. I'll get you out first."
"Alright!" Singer obeyed, moving back.
Ur drew his cheap sword, cutting the cage's chains. He paused for a few seconds, looking at the sword in his hand thoughtfully.
"Thank you!" Singer exclaimed, stepping out.
It was evident that the wealthy Singer hadn't fared well during captivity—disheveled hair, tattered clothing, bloodshot eyes, and a pale face. Not a trace of nobility remained.
"Let's go," Ur said. He had no time for pleasantries; outside, Mirajane was still fighting.
"Alright," Singer responded quietly.
As Ur turned to leave, Singer's expression suddenly darkened. Beneath his tattered clothes, a demonic claw, blood-red veins snaking across it, slowly emerged—a hand unlike any human's.
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Next Chapter: Surfacing Truths
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