Wilhelm raised his gauntleted hand, fingers twitching as if remembering an old rhythm. The tavern was silent again. The gang leaned forward, drawn in by the old knight's voice — the kind that could pull you into his memories whether you liked it or not.
He said that when he finally felt mana surge through his body when he truly had control of his single, shimmering circle it was like his veins had caught fire. Not the kind that burned, but the kind that made him feel alive. Strength coursed through him, power pulsed in his chest, and for the first time, he realized that the world was breathing with him. Every stone, every leaf, every grain of sand it was all whispering the same rhythm.
He looked down at the old book again. "Magic 101 for Dumbasses." Page after page of crude handwriting, simple drawings, and ridiculous notes. But one line stood out to him:
'To create magic, control the mana and let it out. To shape it, imagine it. Let your heart see what your eyes cannot.'
He said he understood it instantly. He closed his eyes, focused on the feeling under his feet ,the earth, cold, heavy, ancient. He thought of dirt under his nails, of the orchard's roots clinging to the soil, of the way it smelled after rain.
Then, before he knew it the ground moved.
Rocks rattled. Dust trembled. A bright magic circle appeared under his feet, glowing with lines and symbols that pulsed like a heartbeat. He heard a low hum rise from the ground, the kind that made your chest vibrate.
He said he could still remember what he whispered next his first ever spell. He followed the book's advice and began to chant, letting his imagination paint the scene. The chant enhanced the image in his head until it felt real.
Then the wind howled, and dirt lifted like it had come alive.
A whirlwind of earth swirled around him pebbles, soil, small stones, all rising in a dancing spiral of raw magic. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't even stable. But it was alive.
Wilhelm laughed softly, remembering. "It was beautiful," he said, "and stupidly dangerous."
The gang sat frozen. Raiyna's mouth hung open. Advin had stopped blinking. Lard looked like he wanted to clap but forgot how hands worked.
Thorus, of course, broke the silence. "You're tellin' me your first spell ever was a bloody earthstorm?!"
Wilhelm only grinned. "I didn't say it was a good idea."
He went on saying that in that moment, he realized the difference between knowing magic and feeling magic. Books could only tell you so much. But that surge of energy, that vibration in his bones that was the true essence of it.
Advin broke the silence first.
He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Other than Merlin himself, I've never heard of anyone creating a powerful earth spell the moment they learned magic. Usually, when we create our first circle, the best we can manage is a splash of water maybe a spark if we're lucky. That's just how magic is. Difficult. Tiring. It drains you dry."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Did you feel drained, knight?"
Wilhelm smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching with fond memory. "Yes," he said, laughing softly, "definitely. I was breathless. My body felt like lead… but I couldn't stop myself."
He raised his hand, recalling the moment, his fingers trembling slightly as if remembering the pulse of mana still flowing through him. "I lifted my hand," he said, "and I called the earth forth."
He paused. "And it came."
The knight mimed the motion his fingers curling as if plucking invisible threads. "The soil rose, the pebbles trembled… it listened. The mana surged through me, wild and alive."
Advin exhaled a shaky laugh, half disbelief, half awe. "That's… insane," he muttered. "Utterly insane."
The others said nothing. The air felt heavy with something unspoken.
Then Ednar, who had been silent for most of the story, finally spoke. His tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "You know," he said, "I never stopped doubting that you were a fraud. Even now, part of me still wants to. But…"
He paused, leaning back slightly, studying the knight's expression. "With that insane story of yours, it actually fits. Fits perfectly with what my master once told me about the Hero Knight."
Wilhelm tilted his head. "Oh? And what did your master say about me?"
Ednar smiled faintly. "That in all your achievements and glories, no matter what people said about your strength or your madness, everyone who ever met you agreed on one thing."
He looked the knight in the eye. "Every time they saw your back that unrelenting grin, that sword shaking the earth, that cape whipping in the wind — they all knew one truth."
Wilhelm's grin widened. "And what truth is that?"
Ednar smirked. "The Hero Knight… is absolutely insane."
The tavern erupted in laughter. Even Wilhelm himself joined in, his booming laugh echoing through the walls as mugs clinked and shoulders shook.
The knight grinned, shaking his head. "Your master sounds like a real joker. What's his name?"
Ednar stiffened. "Ah..he's just… someone," he said quickly, looking away. "Someone who shouldn't take importance."
Wilhelm tilted his head slightly, visor glinting. "Is that so?" he said, voice low but amused.
Advin, still leaning forward with that curious gleam in his eyes, broke the brief silence. "So, what did you do next?"
Wilhelm blinked. "Next?" He let out a laugh. "Well, I got knocked out, of course."
Everyone blinked.
He nodded seriously. "Yup. Woke up in my room with a massive headache."
Advin let out a long sigh of relief. "So you were still human then."
Wilhelm chuckled. "Oh, very much so. That's the toll of magic. Had I gone any further, it would've been bad news for me."
He leaned back, hands resting on his knees. "After that, I told my parents everything. My father said I was brilliant but what I did was reckless."
He smiled faintly at the memory. "And I agreed. Because that day, I understood something important. I found the flaw."
"The flaw?" Ednar asked.
"Our bodies," Wilhelm said. "Magic is too much for a normal body to handle." The group fell silent, listening closely.
"So," Wilhelm continued, "unlike other mages who spend their time studying spells and practicing mana control, I did something else."
Advin frowned. "Something else?"
"I decided to train my body first," Wilhelm said simply.
Advin blinked. "Like… a normal knight, then?"
Wilhelm smirked. "More or less."
He folded his arms. "After I understood my limits, I stopped practicing magic. Not one ounce of mana was used again."
The tavern grew confused murmurs.
"What?" Lard said. "You mean… you gave up on magic?"
Wilhelm's grin returned, wide and knowing. "Of course not," he said. "I went to the gym."
A pause.
"The gym?" Advin echoed.
"Yes," Wilhelm said proudly. "And I pushed. Pushed my body for months—through pain, through sweat until I reached my absolute limits. So that when I used mana again, my body could handle it."
Lard gasped suddenly. "Wait… so that's why—"
Wilhelm nodded before he could finish. "Exactly."
The room went quiet. Realization dawned on all of them. They weren't just hearing a story anymore. They were about to live it. Lard slumped forward, muttering a prayer. Ednar pinched the bridge of his nose.
Thorus looked toward the window then back at the knight then at the window again. His hand twitched.
He decided not to jump.
The knight leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, visor catching the flicker of the lantern. "Get some rest," he said, voice calm but firm. "Tomorrow's going to be long."
Grunts and groans filled the room as the gang shuffled toward the doors, each step heavy with the weight of what awaited them. Lard muttered something under his breath, Thorus scowled, and even Advin looked nervous.
Once the room cleared, Wilhelm remained alone with Raiyna. He shifted slightly, the armor softly clinking. "So," he said, breaking the silence. "What did you want to talk about?"
Raiyna hesitated, twisting her hands in front of her. "Nothing much," she began, eyes lowered. "First… I wanted to apologize."
The knight asked her, "What is it you're apologizing for?"
Raiyna nervously said, "Well… you know," as she pointed toward the huge gap in the tavern caused by Advin, which was still under repair.
She confessed, "That was actually my idea. You shouldn't blame anyone here but me." Her gaze was stern, but cracks of nervousness showed through.
The knight said nothing, just hummed thoughtfully.
Raiyna continued, "I'm not going to make any excuses. I thought you were a threat to the gang, so I did what I could. Perhaps if I had talked to you first, I wouldn't have let Advin end up like that."
The knight finally asked, "Do you still doubt me?"
She sighed. "Well… yes, sort of. I find the whole situation… out of place. One day we're just a normal gang, fighting and bickering, and the next, we're sitting here, listening to a knight who came from God knows where, telling us how to change our lives."
Raiyna told the knight, her voice steady but cold, "I accept my faults… and I accept any punishment you decide for me." Her words were harsh, carrying the weight of her upbringing. "After all, I come from a world where it's kill or be killed. You are far stronger than I am, and I failed… so it is only right that I am punished." Her gaze didn't waver, though her hands gripped each other tightly, betraying the tension beneath her composure.
The knight chuckled, a low, knowing laugh that seemed to fill the room. "Hero Knight or not, my honor is very well intact. I would never do something so immoral. I blame myself, partially, for coming in uninvited. Anyone would have reacted as you did. It's natural." His eyes softened slightly, yet the weight of his words carried a quiet authority.
Then his tone shifted, becoming sharp, perceptive, and a little teasing. "But I know what you're trying to pull."
Raiyna's body stiffened instantly. Her eyes widened slightly, her chest tightening, as if the knight had read the very thought she was trying to hide. For the first time, her usual mask of confidence wavered under his calm, unwavering scrutiny.
She gave a short, defeated chuckle. "Alright," she said, voice rough. "I admit it. I felt… beaten."
She looked at him, then nodded once, steady. "I had a family before. I lost them. All that's left is my brother and this gang. I'll do anything so it never happens again." Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "I'm telling you this because—strange as it sounds—I'm finally deciding to trust you. Not because you're strong, but because you're… sincere."
Her eyes hardened. "If anyone harms my family especially my brother no matter what it costs me, I will take them down."
The knight stared at her for a long, quiet beat. Then, without warning, he laughed and slapped her back so hard she staggered, caught completely off-guard. She blinked.
"I like your spirit," he said, grin broad and real. "And I promise no harm will come to you lot while I'm around."
Raiyna studied him for a long beat, then asked the question that had been clawing at her since he first mentioned the peak. "You really mean it," she said slowly, "you expect us to go to the Black Dragon's lair? To the peak where you said your treasure is?"
The knight's grin never left. "I never kidded about that."
She swallowed. "Did you fight it?"
He laughed, low and easy. "The lizard knows better than to pick a fight with me."
Raiyna gave a short, nervous laugh that sounded more like a cough. "Of course. You can say that because you're a legend." She looked down, fingers tightening on her sword hilt as if the leather were the only thing keeping her from losing herself. "But I'm not like you. I'm terrified of that dragon." Her voice shook. "That thing—" Her eyes went distant, a flash of fire and screaming cutting across her face. "It took everything from me."
Silence fell heavy. Even the tavern's breathing seemed to hold.
She lifted her head, and the fear was still there, but something harder burned beneath it. "But I hate it more than I fear it." Her hands trembled, bright veins standing out along her knuckles as she gripped the hilt tighter. "You're telling me there's a chance—" Her jaw set. "—a chance to go after it."
The knight cocked his head. "And what would you do with that chance?"
She looked at him, and for the first time her smile was all edge—grim, fierce, almost holy. Her eyes looked wet, rimmed red. "I kill it," she said simply. "I end that stupid lizard."
The knight only patted her shoulder, quiet. "I craved vengeance too," he said after a long pause.
Raiyna looked up. "Did you get it?"
He nodded once, slow. "Yes. But it cost me. A lot."
Silence swallowed them. Raiyna let out a soft sigh and dropped her gaze. He watched her for a heartbeat, then added, voice steady, "I wouldn't want anyone else to walk that road." His hand tightened on her shoulder for a second. "That doesn't mean I won't help you beat that stupid lizard's ass."
Her eyes found his beneath the visor. He grinned — unrelenting, strangely kind and she let a small, soft smile split her face.
Somewhere around the corner, Lard had been listening. He hovered in the doorway, face a hard mask as the words fell into the room. When the knight promised, something in Lard's chest shifted; the memory came unbidden.
Fire. The night his town burned. A man's shout face blurred by smoke "Go! Take the children! Run!" The man turned, flames licking at his cloak. Young Raiyna, hair singed, hands gripping Lard's arm, yanked him free from the heat. "Come on!" she screamed. Lard remembered clawing at splintering wood, hearing someone behind him cry for help and begging him to go back. He'd screamed back, "Save them! Go back!" but Raiyna pulled him anyway, dragging him from the roar that devoured their world.
The memory ended with a sound Lard never forgot: the dragon's roar, a spine-curdling thing that swallowed the night. Even now, his sister had been the one to act. Lard closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and straightened his shoulders.
The night fell quiet over Laundry Town the tavern lights dimmed, laughter and groans fading into the hum of rest. A clear full moon hung over the crooked roofs, silver light spilling across the sleeping streets. Inside, the knight, Raiyna, and Lard settled down; the others sprawled where they could, snoring or whispering faintly. For a moment, all was still.
But deep beyond the town's borders, past the meadows and the rustling pines, something stirred. The forest breathed heavier than usual and between the shadows, something was running.
A boy in a tattered red cloak burst through the undergrowth, branches slashing at his face. His breaths came ragged, desperate. Mud clung to his boots, and his heartbeat drowned out every sound except the growls. The snapping of twigs behind him. The laughter of men closing in.
"Faster!" someone barked in the dark.
The boy didn't look back he couldn't. He just ran, weaving through trees, jumping over roots, the forest seeming to twist and pull him in deeper. Then, from behind a flash of red light.
A spell sigil flared midair. Crack! The vines on the ground snapped to life, curling around his ankles. He fell hard, face slamming into wet soil. The world spun as he clawed at the bindings, panic surging through him.
Then he froze.
From the shadows came a low, wet growl followed by several glowing eyes emerging from the dark. Wolves. Huge, distorted, too thin and too wild. Their fur shimmered oddly, like smoke given form.
The boy trembled, his back hitting a tree as he tried to crawl away. His eyes darted wildly as the first wolf stepped closer, baring its dripping fangs.
And then, from deeper in the black, a voice smooth, venomous, and far too calm.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?"
The darkness itself seemed to whisper the words, stretching toward him as the forest swallowed the moonlight whole.