Rhythmic applause suddenly broke the silence. "Remarkable. Truly as expected from the number one genius of the Brilanzxi Academy," praised a voice emerging from behind the shadows of the ruins.
Zevaron did not turn; his eyes remained fixed straight ahead. "I have graduated from that place," he replied coldly, his tone flat as if the title were merely a burden of the past he wished to forget.
A man in heavy uniform stepped forward. His long cloak dragged across the cracked ground. "Of course. But still, your name remains a legend in your generation, Zevaron."
"Get straight to the point," Zevaron interrupted, turning to look at the man with a sharp gaze. "Who are you and what is your business here?"
"I am the Head Warden of the Eldravia Royal Prison," he introduced himself, his face looking tense as he glanced toward the bald man lying helpless near Zevaron's feet. "I am here to secure him. A high-profile prisoner who took advantage of the explosion earlier to escape."
Zevaron looked up, staring at the sky split by flashes of light and the loud booms of a battle that had yet to conclude. "Then what about the two people who are trying to kill each other up there?"
The Warden followed the direction of Zevaron's finger. "You need not worry. Our war General is handling it. Soldiers! Quickly bind this Crazy Baldy while he cannot move!" he ordered several soldiers who had just arrived.
As the soldiers dragged away the prisoner whose body was already crushed, the Warden turned back to Zevaron. "Thank you for your assistance. Eldravia is in your debt. Is there any specific reward you desire?"
"No need. I don't need anything," Zevaron answered shortly. He was about to turn and leave when suddenly the sound of a whistling wind roared from above.
A body crashed down violently, hitting the asphalt right in front of Zevaron's feet, creating a small crater. Dust billowed, obscuring the view.
"Ge-General?!" screamed the Warden, his face suddenly turning deathly pale seeing the warlord lying in a miserable condition.
Zevaron raised an eyebrow, staring at the figure who had just fallen from the sky with a flat expression. "So, how is it now? Still under control?"
The Warden swallowed hard, cold sweat pouring down. "E-easy... we just need to... ask the High General for help!" he said with a trembling voice, trying to convince himself.
However, before he could finish his sentence, another body plummeted like a meteor, crashing right beside the Warden.
"High... General?" The Warden fell to his knees. His eyes widened in horror seeing the strongest person in the kingdom now nothing more than a pile of unconscious flesh in front of him. "Impossible... he is the strongest man in this kingdom..."
Amidst the panic, Zevaron let out a long sigh. He glanced at a building at the end of the road that was beginning to crack due to the vibrations of the battle.
"Alright, I've changed my mind," Zevaron said calmly. "I ask for full insurance if even the slightest damage occurs to my sister's company."
The Warden was no longer listening clearly. With a panicked movement, he immediately hoisted both generals onto his shoulders. "Fine, we will grant it. But for now... let's run while we can!" he shouted while running away as fast as his legs could carry him.
A sharp hiss sliced through the air. Before Zevaron could even blink, a pointed crystal streaked past like lightning, leaving only a hot sting on his cheek. A drop of blood seeped out.
"That was close," Zevaron whispered, his breath hitching. He had no time to wince.
With agility, he moved to evacuate the workers at his sister's company. The situation was chaotic, but Zevaron managed to guide them toward the refuge bunker. Once the civilians were safe, instead of moving away, Zevaron turned back. Curiosity outweighed his fear; he crawled along the roof of a building, his eyes fixed on the two figures fighting for their lives below. He recorded every attack pattern, every flow of mana, and how the magic was constructed.
The red-haired man attacked like a maniac. His sword swung blindly, creating a storm of steel that forced the white-haired woman into a corner. However, when the man grew careless, the woman's red eyes glowed coldly.
From behind her sleeves, thousands of crystal shards shattered and sped out like a swarm of bloodthirsty wasps. Some of the crystals locked the opponent's joints, while one large pointed shard pierced through the man's chest, destroying his heart in one silent, deadly thud.
"Finally... it's over," the woman muttered, her breath coming in gasps.
Suddenly, the woman's sharp gaze shifted. Her eyes immediately locked onto Zevaron's position. In the blink of an eye, she vanished—then appeared right behind Zevaron's back. A crystal sword blade was already drawn, ready to split the young man's chest.
Strangely, the sword shattered into pieces before it could even touch Zevaron's skin. The woman's body buckled, her vision blurred, and with an unreasonable amount of remaining strength, she sped away, leaving the kingdom area.
The gust of wind from her extraordinary movement made Zevaron flinch. Although his eyes could not catch the image, Zevaron immediately chanted a spell. "Tracking Cloud!" A small puff of cloud formed at his fingertip, sniffing out the residue of magical energy left in the air like a bloodhound.
The pursuit ended at the border of the Briem Forest, a lush and damp peripheral region of the Eldravia Kingdom. There, amidst the roots of an old tree, the woman lay helpless.
Zevaron stood frozen. "Save her or not?" he thought, his mind racing. "If I save her, I could have a powerful ally. But if she wakes up and perhaps she'll immediately slit my throat, I don't even know if she is friend or foe."
There was silence for a moment. Only the sound of forest crickets could be heard. Finally, Zevaron let out a long sigh. "Fine, I'll take the risk."
He knelt beside the sweat-drenched body. With full concentration, he flowed his magic into the woman's bloodstream, tracing the dark substance that was damaging her body cells. Using thin and sharp wind magic, he cut the woman's wrist.
Thick, blackish blood due to the poison seeped out. Immediately, Zevaron took a potion bottle from his storage ring and poured the potion onto the wound. Instantly, the open skin tissue began to merge and close.
"Just a small scratch on the back of the hand as an entry point, even though the dose of this poison is small, it is truly lethal," Zevaron muttered while wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Night fell, shrouding the forest. Zevaron remained on guard by the mysterious woman's side, accompanied by the dim moonlight. "Looks like it will be a while before she wakes up," he muttered softly while adjusting his sitting position.
Exactly five seconds after those words were spoken, the woman's eyelids flickered, then opened, revealing a pair of red eyes that immediately stared sharply at Zevaron.