- The Previous Day -
"Listen to me carefully, Rosavelle. What makes a Mindseer so dangerous isn't merely the ability to read minds, but to stun them… even shut them down entirely. Tomorrow, I want you to push yourself. Before anyone can attack me, I need you to at least disorient them, even if only for a moment. Shall we run the test on the rats once more?"
Rosavelle nodded as she listened attentively to her master, then shifted her gaze toward the rats. Aside from being plump creatures fed with herbs to make them more aggressive, there was nothing particularly special about them.
Areth opened the cage and stepped in front of Rosavelle.
"Be ready," he said in a low voice. "Seeing alone is not enough… you must learn timing as well."
Rosavelle took a deep breath. Her eyes fixed on the rats, but this time her gaze was different. It was not superficial; it was as if she wasn't looking at them, but into them. The subtle twitching within their small bodies, the tension of their muscles, that microscopic hesitation before a sudden leap… all of it began to form a pattern of signs.
The first to move was the plump rat in the right corner.
At the exact moment the rat was about to leap, her gaze sharpened. Like an invisible wave of pressure, a force surged from her mind and shattered the creature's perception for a brief instant. Its eyes went vacant, its body lost direction mid-air, and it crashed to the ground, staggering.
At the same time, a second rat moved.
This time, Rosavelle was faster.
She caught it before it even leapt. The rat froze for a split second, then was flung sideways as if it had struck an invisible wall.
The corner of Areth's lips curled slightly.
"Good…"
He raised his hand just a little. At the tip of his fingers, a small flame sphere formed, perfectly controlled, unwavering, dense with energy. As the first rat struggled to recover, his finger moved ever so slightly.
The fireball shot forward without a sound.
With a small burst, it incinerated the rat where it stood, leaving behind only the smell of char and a blackened mark.
The second rat tried to flee, but Rosavelle had already touched its mind again. This time deeper, more decisive. The animal's movements became erratic, its sense of direction completely lost.
As Areth formed a second fireball, he spoke:
"You didn't hesitate. Good."
The flame launched once more, and the second rat met the same fate.
As the remaining rats in the cage scattered in panic, Rosavelle's eyes had grown calm. The initial tension had given way to a sharp, focused clarity.
Areth tilted his head slightly, studying her.
"Do you feel the difference?" he asked. "You didn't wait for them to attack. You broke the intent the moment it formed."
Rosavelle nodded slowly.
"…Yes," she said, her voice low but steady. "It's like… I know, even before they think it. Where they'll move, and when."
"That's exactly why you're dangerous," he said flatly. "And exactly why you don't have the luxury of making mistakes."
He paused, then added:
"Tomorrow, we'll try this on humans. And understand this… humans are not foolish rats. Still, don't be afraid. At worst, I've prepared a mechanism that will teleport us back here. But we'll do everything we can to ensure that worst case never happens. Now, come. Let's try again."
"Yes, Master."
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- Present Day -
"Well then, Mister Areth. I am a fair man. I'm sure you already know that. So I'll make you a fair offer. For one hundred gold coins, I'll allow you to leave here alive," Borgath said.
Areth smiled and idly turned his storage ring. "I don't quite understand… are you paying me a hundred gold, or am I paying you?" he replied mockingly.
A few of the men let out low chuckles, but they did not last long. Because they sensed that their masters were getting angry, and that was never a good sign. The relaxed, almost bored expression on Areth's face did not change.
Borgath raised an eyebrow slightly.
"What exactly are you trying to achieve by provoking me? You are neither a champion of a god nor a powerful sorcerer. Do you really think you can walk out of here alive unless I allow it? Don't test my limits any further, boy."
The mocking curve on Areth's lips softened for a moment. He gave a slight shrug, as if he had truly overstepped.
"Ah… yes," he said calmly. "I suppose I went a bit too far."
He touched his storage ring.
A large leather pouch appeared between his fingers, its mouth tightly bound with a firm knot. Holding it delicately between two fingers, Areth extended it toward Borgath. His movements were deliberately slow, controlled enough to suggest submission rather than threat.
The moment he extended the pouch, he tilted his head slightly to the side. To an outside observer, it looked like a trivial reflex. In truth, it was a silent command to Rosavelle.
'Prepare.'
Rosavelle's breathing faltered instantly.
Her shoulders tensed. Her fingers began to tremble ever so slightly. These men were not rats. Their minds were more complex, heavier… far more dangerous. For a brief moment, she felt every gaze in the room pressing down on her.
Areth saw it.
Without hesitation, he reached out and grasped her trembling hand.
At the moment of contact, Rosavelle's eyes turned toward the one person she trusted most among the living. In his calm gaze, she found just enough air to breathe. Realizing he was trying to convey something, she used her ability to read his mind and received a clear message.
'Don't be afraid. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you.'
Her eyes glistened for a brief moment. Those were exactly the words she needed. They had not been spoken aloud… but she had heard them in their purest form. Despite the sharp, rigid nature of Areth's mind, in that instant it held only a single intent.
Protection.
Rosavelle took a deep breath. Her trembling fingers slowly relaxed. She gave a small nod. She was ready. Areth withdrew his hand. His expression returned to that indifferent, faintly bored look.
By then, Borgath was growing impatient.
"What the fuck?!" he snapped, his brows furrowing. "Is opening a pouch that difficult?"
Borgath was so frustrated by his inability to open the tightly and intricately tied pouch that his face began to flush with anger. Areth looked at her and laughed at the effort she was putting into trying to open the pouch.
"Interesting…" he murmured. "This is the first time I've seen someone try to open their own hell."
The muscles in Borgath's face tightened.
"What nonsense are you?!"
At that very moment, two of the guards in the room grew uneasy.
One was the tall man standing closest to the door. His eyes were locked onto the pouch, but there was hesitation rather than greed in his gaze. Areth's excessive calmness… it was screaming that something was wrong. His hand slowly slid toward the hilt of his sword.
The other stood at Borgath's right, his face covered in scars. He wrinkled his nose slightly.
"Boss…" he muttered. "This… isn't normal."
Areth saw it. It was exactly what he had been waiting for. He glanced briefly at the two guards, then back at Borgath. His smile widened slightly.
"Too late," he whispered.
Borgath frowned, irritation now turning into impatience.
"Open the pouch and kneel," he growled. "Or—"
At that exact moment, Areth's finger moved.
The air seemed to warp for an instant. A small sphere of fire condensed at his fingertip, forming as swiftly as lightningand launching just as fast. The fireball shot toward the pouch in Borgath's hand, and the moment it struck, a massive burst of flame erupted. Borgath's upper body, especially his face and hand, was engulfed in fire.
But this was no ordinary explosion.
A dark, dense gas spread instantly, moving almost like a liquid. A sharp, burning odor filled the room. Borgath inhaled reflexively.
A fatal mistake.
His eyes turned bloodshot in an instant. His throat seized.
"What… did you… do…?!" he rasped.
The scarred man beside him reacted first. He drew his sword, but staggered before he could take a step. His sense of balance seemed shattered.
The one near the door tried to leap back. But at that exact moment, Rosavelle's gaze locked onto him. Time slowed for him. The direction of his muscles… the contraction of his pupils… even before the intent to flee fully formed, it was already laid bare.
Rosavelle touched his mind.
For a brief instant, his perception shattered. The foot that should have pushed him backward stepped forward instead. His body betrayed him. He stumbled as if stepping into empty space.
At the same time, the second guard became her target. This time, the intrusion was deeper. His mind reeled. His focus collapsed. Even with a sword in hand, he could no longer comprehend what he was meant to strike.
Areth did not miss the moment. His storage ring flashed again. Two small vials appeared in his hand. He tossed one to Rosavelle and immediately uncorked the other, drinking it in a single motion. As the liquid slid down his throat, his eyes narrowed briefly, but his expression did not change.
"Drink," he said in a short, decisive tone.
Rosavelle caught the vial mid-air and drank it without hesitation.
The potion took effect almost instantly. The gas that had moments ago felt like it was burning her lungs now seemed like nothing more than a heavy mist. She could feel its presence, but it could no longer harm her.
The same could not be said for the rest of the room.
Borgath dropped to his knees. His hands clawed at his throat as he struggled to breathe, but each breath only dragged more poison into his lungs.
"You... die..." he choked out hoarsely.
Areth tilted his head slightly.
"Not yet," he said calmly.