"Master, the atmosphere here feels off."
"With people vanishing one after another, that's hardly surprising."
As my master and I exchanged those words, a middle-aged man emerged from the village.
"Are you the ones sent by the Baron? What do you expect to accomplish with just four people...?"
His face was etched with clear disappointment. He seemed convinced that such a small group couldn't resolve the village's troubles. But even so, was it right to treat those who'd come to help like this?
That's what I was thinking when—
"You there! Mind your manners. This is Digori, a guest of Baron Neville and a great mage. And this is his disciple, Heros."
One of the soldiers rebuked the Village Chief. The man's face drained of color, and he dropped to the ground right there.
"I failed to recognize such esteemed guests... Forgive me! Please, have mercy!"
The golem was trailing behind the carriage, hidden from view. That must be why he hadn't immediately realized my master was a mage.
"Rise."
"Yes!"
At my master's single command, the Village Chief sprang to his feet. He clearly thought he'd made a grave mistake—his face was ashen white.
"Where is the missing person's home?"
"I'll guide you to the nearest one first."
"Very well."
The Village Chief took the lead, and we followed. Moments later, we arrived at a house. It had a wooden frame topped with a thatched roof—a common sight around these parts.
'What? It's completely empty.'
As we stepped through the open door, an empty interior greeted us. Baron Neville had said the missing people's belongings were left intact, but clearly that wasn't the case.
"Spotless."
I wasn't the only one struck by that impression—my master murmured it while eyeing the Village Chief. The man gave an awkward smile in response.
"The living have to live, don't they? So the villagers divided up the missing folks' things among themselves."
Who would've thought I'd feel a pang of homesickness in this unfamiliar village? It was just as stingy as the one I'd grown up in.
"Hmph."
My master stood by the door, scanning the barren space. I felt awkward just standing idle, so I followed suit, poking around the interior. Along the way, I checked for any traces of mana. Unfortunately, nothing registered.
"Are the other missing persons' homes in a similar state?"
"What do you mean by that...?"
"Empty like this one."
"Yes, exactly."
"Ha."
My master sighed. Noticing that, I ventured a careful suggestion.
"If the other houses are like this too, maybe we should start with the most recently vanished person's home? It might still hold some clues."
"A sound idea. Let's do that."
My master accepted my proposal. He turned to the Village Chief.
"Take us to the home of the most recent missing person."
"Yes!"
The Village Chief responded vigorously and strode ahead at a brisk pace. We trailed behind him. As we wandered through the village, I felt eyes on us from all directions. Were they on edge because of the recent troubles? They peeked through holes in walls or cracks in doors but didn't step outside.
"This is the place!"
Shortly after, the Village Chief halted before one house.
"When did you last see this home's owner?"
"He was definitely here until noon yesterday, but then he vanished at some point and hasn't returned."
"So he went missing yesterday."
"That's right, Mage."
My master entered the house without hesitation. I followed close behind. Vanished just a day ago, and yet the place was already stripped bare. They'd cleared out every last household item the moment they realized the owner was gone. How thrilled they must've been to have winter work fall into their laps? I couldn't help but admire the villagers' diligence.
"Heros, sense any mana?"
That's when my master looked down at me and asked. In truth, I'd felt it even before he spoke. The mana lingering here. Faint as it was, it couldn't escape my senses.
"Yes."
"That's mana residue. Someone cast a spell here, and this is the trace left behind. Oh, and the more mana used in a spell, the longer the residue lingers. Remember that."
I'd already known from experience that spells left traces, but learning they were called 'residue' was new to me just now.
'Huh, another bit of magical knowledge for today.'
As I mulled over the lesson, my master voiced his thoughts.
"Looks like the culprit's a mage."
"What do we do then?"
"We check the culprit's face. They left a trail for us to follow."
The culprit's trail. He meant the mana residue, of course. The magical traces inside didn't stop there—they stretched out long into the open, making pursuit possible.
"Heros. Follow the residue."
As I traced where the mana residue led, my master assigned me the task. And I accepted it gladly. It wasn't a bother. This was a chance to hone my skills.
"This way."
Focusing on the external sensations, I began guiding the group along the trail. The Village Chief and soldiers followed, visibly uneasy.
"Hm?"
The residue extended beyond the village too, and thicker there than inside, making it easier to detect. But I soon had to stop. The destination was closer than I'd expected.
'Sticking around near the village, huh.'
The presumed location of the culprit was the back mountain. The forest visible right after leaving the village. That's where the dense mana had emanated from. Likely, the troublemaking mage was hunkered down in one spot, casting spells periodically.
"Master, what now?"
Press on, or hold position here? I deferred the decision to him. He was the strongest among us, after all. Besides, this was probably exactly as far as he'd intended for me to take things.
"You three, stay here."
"Yes!"
Right after my question, my master addressed the Village Chief and two soldiers. They replied with gusto. Relieved not to tangle with the rogue mage, no doubt—their faces lit up with grins.
"Let's go."
With the group split, my master headed into the forest with me. His confident stride put me at ease. Still, a sliver of unease lingered.
"Master. The opponent's a necromancer, right? Shouldn't we prepare something? If combat breaks out, we'll be outnumbered."
A question I couldn't ask with others around. I wasn't certain, and I figured the Village Chief and soldiers would panic if they heard 'necromancer.'
"How did you know the opponent was a necromancer?"
But my master's reaction was odd. He stopped abruptly and looked down at me. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were slightly wider than usual. From what I'd seen so far, he seemed surprised by my question.
"Uh... just a hunch."
"A hunch?"
"When I tracked the residue, it felt similar to the traces your magic leaves. Hard to put into words—it was instinct."
In simple terms, different spells left different vibes in their residue. For example, necromancy felt eerie. Just sensing the residue brought a sinking chill. Other magics varied. Plant magic was fresh, water magic refreshing, fire magic exhilarating. Oh, and earth magic was steady.
"You sensed all that?"
"Yes."
"Heros, you always surpass my expectations."
"Like master, like disciple."
I credited him instead. He chuckled softly and said,
"Cut the flattery and embrace silence more. A mage listens, rather than speaks."
With that, my master took the lead. I followed. And soon enough, we spotted a cabin. Its clean exterior suggested it was newly built. But the thick mana and pungent stench emanating from it ruined any good first impression.
"Strong smell of blood. Also like boiling herbs. Hm... Seems like they're crafting special corpses. Not your average necromancer—likely a black mage."
"Black mage?"
"Term for mages who harm people. In short, an evil one."
"Ah."
As my master explained black mages, creeeak.
With a chilling sound, the cabin door swung open, and someone stepped out. A young man with a sinister air.
"I don't recall inviting guests."
He scanned us with indifferent eyes. Like we were objects, not people. It made meeting his gaze uncomfortable. Still, I held firm. I didn't want to lose in spirit. Did he notice that resolve? The young man fixed his eyes on me. Staring into those hollow pupils, my heart raced, and my vision blurred.
That moment, my master stepped in front of me and addressed him. The psychological pressure vanished cleanly at once.
"Did you take the villagers?"
"Yes."
"I'm here to resolve that issue."
"So you're no guest, then."
The young man said that much. Then his gaze shifted to my master's golem. A strange fervor ignited in the young man's eyes.
"Wonder which is stronger—my golem or yours?"
An out-of-left-field question from the young man. He turned toward the cabin and shouted,
"Baby!"
Right then. Boom!
The cabin door shattered as a monstrosity emerged. A golem over two meters tall with a bulky frame. Up to that point, it resembled my master's, but the materials differed slightly. This 'Baby' golem was made primarily from human flesh.
'Grotesque.'
Its skin, somehow turned purple, was covered in stitch marks. And its face lacked eyelids, exposing bulging dead-fish eyes. Overall, a repulsive abomination. But the young man didn't see it that way.
"What do you think of my flesh golem? Pretty cool, right?"
His flushed face beamed with pride in his creation. My master ignored the reaction and asked what he wanted to know.
"Eremus?"
"How'd you know?"
"Just a guess. Every mage stirring up trouble lately has been with that group."
Caught out, perhaps? The young man's face hardened as he glared at us. And the flesh golem lumbered toward us. Signs of battle loomed.
'A fight with a black mage!'
How would my master overcome this crisis? I was curious. And his answer to that curiosity... was beyond my expectations.
"Pleased to meet you, comrade."
Wait, what? Master, you're a black mage too?!
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