The wooden sword clattered to the floor, followed immediately by the sound of Julian collapsing into a heap of expensive, sweat-soaked silk.
[System Notification: Daily Quest - Complete!]
[Rewards: +0.1 Constitution, 10 XP]
[Current Body Status: "Barely Functional Paper"] [Remaining Lifetime: 140 Days]
'140 days,' Julian wheezed, staring up at the ceiling. 'I'm essentially a walking, talking, bankrupt hourglass. If I don't find a way to stabilize my mana core or find a high-tier immortality elixir, I'm going to be a cautionary tale for aspiring Master Magicians everywhere.'
He pulled himself up, his joints popping in protest. 'Pain is just weakness leaving the body—or in my case, structural integrity failing the body. But I have a reputation to maintain.'
Julian spent the next hour preparing. He donned robes of midnight charcoal silk, embroidered with silver threads that weren't just decorative; they were low-level mana dampeners. He grabbed his cane—an artifact he'd acquired from an auction he'd almost died trying to attend—which housed a compressed mana battery.
He looked in the mirror. Pale skin, sharp eyes, expensive clothes, and an aura of "I am smarter than everyone in this room."
'Perfect. The "Master Magician" persona is locked in.'
He stepped out of his chambers, bypassing the guest wing where he could sense Lyra's fluctuating mana signature. She was currently sleeping, likely recovering from the "Void Vacuum" incident. He left a note on the table: "Gone to source materials. Don't set the curtains on fire. - J."
The capital's Grand Market was a chaotic symphony of greed. Merchants hawked fake dragon scales, desperate mages sold charms that barely hummed, and the air smelled of ozone and roasting meat. Julian moved through the crowd, leaning on his cane. He didn't just walk; he glided, the dampening threads in his robes creating a slight distortion in the air around him.
To anyone watching, he was a high-status Master Magician, likely looking for rare reagents.
'Alright, focus,' Julian thought, his eyes scanning the stalls. 'I need a mana-dampening shroud for Lyra. Something that can trick a General's tracking spells. If I can get it for under 50 gold, I'll be the happiest man in the Empire.'
He was currently bartering with a hunched old goblin at a stall tucked away in an alleyway when the ambient noise of the market suddenly died.
It wasn't a sudden silence, but a wave of it. The crowd parted. People weren't just moving out of the way; they were pressing themselves into the walls, terrified.
A sound rang out. Clank. Clank. Clank.
The rhythmic thud of steel boots against cobblestone. Julian froze. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The air grew heavy, smelling of burnt iron and high-grade military-grade enchantments.
"JULIAN! YOU TRICKY LITTLE WEASEL! I HEARD YOU WERE DEAD!"
A blur of crimson hair, eyes like molten gold, and armor that cost more than a small fiefdom stormed into the alley. General Valerya. The War Lioness of the Empire, the woman who had personally overseen the Saintess's custody before the "incident."
She stopped three feet from him, her massive claymore strapped to her back, her gauntleted hands planted firmly on her hips. She towered over him, her presence filling the alleyway with enough pressure to crush a lesser mage.
Julian turned, putting on his best "confused nobleman" face. "General Valerya. What a... startling surprise. Did you mistake this back-alley for a military parade?"
"Don't give me that, Jules!" Valerya laughed, a sound like gravel in a blender. She reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, nearly crushing his clavicle. "I heard you had a little 'poisoning' incident at the capital. I was worried the Blackwood line was finally going to thin out!"
"As you can see, I am quite resilient," Julian squeaked, his internal organs begging for mercy as she gripped him.
"Resilient? You look like you'd snap in a stiff breeze!" Valerya slapped his back—a blow that felt like a falling hammer—and Julian lurched forward, barely staying upright. "But that's not why I'm here. We lost the Saintess. The transport team was found unconscious, and word on the street is a certain Master Magician was lurking nearby."
She leaned in, her golden eyes narrowing. The playfulness in her expression vanished, replaced by the razor-sharp focus of a predator.
"You're one of the only people who could bypass the transport's defensive array, Julian. You're clever, you're greedy, and you've always wanted a 'trophy' for your private collection."
'Oh, I'm being hunted,' Julian thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. 'If she takes Lyra, I lose my insurance policy, my 'friend,' and my chance at a long life. If I lie, she'll turn me inside out.'
He managed a thin, fragile smile, masking the fact that his pulse was spiking to dangerous levels.
"General, you wound me," Julian said, his voice smooth as silk. "A Master Magician of my standing doesn't steal. I acquire. And why would I want a Saintess who is nothing but a walking mana-bomb, liable to explode and destroy my property taxes? I'm here because I'm looking for a rare catalyst for my research. Something much... quieter."
Valerya studied his face for a long, agonizing second. Then, she released him, stepping back.
"Research, huh?" She crossed her arms, the metal of her gauntlets scraping together. "You're a shifty one, Julian. You always have been. Tell you what—I'll take your word for it, for now. But if I find that girl in your basement, I'm going to drag you to the front lines and use you as a human shield against the Frost-Drakes. Understood?"
"Crystal clear," Julian said, bowing slightly.
"Good. Now, since you're here, buy me a drink. Or ten. The army's ale tastes like swamp water and regret."
'Ten drinks?' Julian thought, his soul recoiling. 'That's going to be at least 20 gold pieces! I'm going to be financially ruined before the day is out!'