Even though Baston desperately wanted to open the old book the moment lunch ended, he restrained himself.
To take out a mysterious object and stare at it in the middle of a noble gathering would not only be impolite, it would be reckless. He had just begun earning genuine respect within the Xavierius estate. One wrong gesture, one suspicious movement, and the fragile image he had built would crumble.
So he endured.
He smiled when required. He responded modestly when elders praised him. He even accepted a second helping of roasted meat to maintain the appearance of a carefree and gluttonous boy.
Only when the atmosphere softened and conversations dispersed did he excuse himself politely and head toward the nearest restroom.
Inside, he locked the door.
The cheerful expression on his face disappeared.
With careful movements, Baston slipped his hand beneath his inner robe and pulled out the old book.
The leather felt cold, too cold that it felt unusual.
The cold did not resemble the touch of aged material. It felt active like something that had just awakened from sleep. A thin shiver crawled along his fingers and climbed up his wrist before fading.
For a fleeting second, he wondered if the old book had reacted not to the presence of a dark wizard but to something else entirely.
His mind flashed back to the scanner Angus had used the previous day. When the artifact passed near him, he had felt a subtle distortion. Not exposure and not danger but resistance as though two invisible observers had brushed against one another.
The scanner had flickered briefly. Angus had dismissed it as a fluctuation yet Baston had not forgotten the sensation.
It felt like being measured and now, the book felt the same.
He opened it and the words appeared immediately.
"Kill the dark wizard…"
There was no elaboration, no decoration, and no evaluation tier. It was just a command.
For a long second, Baston did not breathe.
This was different.
Every quest until now had required manipulation, performance, deception, or investigation. Even when people had died in the town, he had not wielded the blade himself. The consequences had unfolded indirectly.
This time, there was no ambiguity. It was the order to kill.
He would need to ensure the target's death personally or at least, ensure the death occurred without doubt.
A direct act which he hardly believed. His fingers tightened slightly against the page.
Was he hesitating because of morality or because of risk?
The dark potion incident in the town had already made one thing clear. Dark wizards were not merely criminals. They were architects of slow and invisible slaughter. Baston had no illusion about their cruelty. If the old book identified one here, then someone in this estate had already brought corruption through its gates.
Still, to stab a dagger into someone and to watch their life leave, that was a threshold for him.
He closed the old book slowly and leaned against the bathroom wall. He had to think seriously at the moment.
The quest had triggered today. Not yesterday and not during his earlier interactions.
That meant the dark wizard was nearby and present within range of whatever perception the old book operated on which raised another unsettling question.
If the old book could detect darkness within a certain range, then what exactly had the scanner detected yesterday?
Was it possible that the artifact had sensed not him but the proximity of something else?
Was something concealed?
Was something layered beneath ordinary mana signatures?
Baston frowned slightly.
If a dark wizard had already been within the estate since yesterday, then the scanner's faint reaction might not have been random at all.
Someone here had evaded detection once.
That meant this opponent was careful and careful enemies were the most dangerous
It also meant the target was not among the Xavierius core family. When Baston had previously stood among Harry, Angus, and the elders, the book had remained silent. So, the suspect must be among the guests.
He replayed the faces in his mind. There were five individuals he had not met before today.
Five new variables and one of them carried darkness.
When he returned to the hall, his expression was calm again.
He did not rush. Instead, he began drifting casually from one conversation to another.
He needed information before suspicion.
More importantly, he needed to observe how each of them reacted to subtle probing.
A true dark practitioner would not panic easily. Panic was for amateurs. Those who walked in forbidden paths survived through restraint.
So Baston did not ask direct questions.
He asked harmless ones about the journey, about the weather, and about how impressive the estate was.
He watched their eyes, he listened to breathing patterns, and he paid attention to pauses that lasted half a second too long.
If there was darkness among them, it would not reveal itself openly but it might shift when tested.
*****
The first was the coachman.
A broad-shouldered man with sunburned skin and thick arms. The man claimed he remained outside most of the time to guard the carriage. His lord feared theft. Despite layered protective enchantments, he insisted on staying near it.
It sounded practical. Perhaps overly cautious but not abnormal.
The second was the maid. She was young, beautiful, and felt nervous.
She said she volunteered to stay near the carriage as well because she feared breaking something in the estate. After further questioning, she confessed she was clumsy and often damaged objects at home. To avoid embarrassment, she chose to remove herself from delicate environments.
It was an odd explanation but plausible.
Still, something about the ease with which she blamed herself felt rehearsed but rehearsed did not necessarily mean guilty.
Sometimes weakness was simply weakness.
Her hands trembled too naturally and her breathing hitched in irregular rhythm. If she was acting, then she was an exceptional performer, better than most trained nobles.
Baston had built his life on performance. He knew the difference between calculated vulnerability and genuine insecurity.
The maid felt fragile yet fragility could be exploited by someone else.
He did not remove her from suspicion but he quietly lowered her probability.
The third was a guard from another household.
He was initially tight-lipped but later, under relaxed conversation, he admitted his boots were dirty from travel. He feared stepping onto polished floors and causing insult. A solid excuse, perhaps too solid.
The fourth was a heavily adorned woman who introduced herself as a wife but Baston's eyes were not fooled.
Her posture lacked noble discipline, her laughter lingered too long, and her gestures were exaggerated.
Jewelry could be purchased but refinement required years. She was likely a mistress who was elevated temporarily for appearance.
That did not make her harmless. In fact, it made her unpredictable.
The fifth was a young nobleman, distantly related to someone present.
He had apparently excused himself from most of the gathering due to fatigue from travel. He avoided attention.
Avoiding attention was not a crime but neither was it innocent.
What unsettled Baston was not the excuse itself but the absence of imperfection.
The young man's fatigue appeared controlled. His posture, though relaxed, never truly sagged.
Even in avoidance, there was awareness as if he had calculated the exact degree of invisibility required.
That kind of restraint did not belong to someone merely lazy. It belonged to someone disciplined.
Someone was patient and Baston did not stare long enough to be noticed. However, he marked it.
*****
Baston completed his circuit and retreated to a quiet corner.
There were five suspects but there was no clear signal and no visible aura of corruption.
If only the old book had specified gender, age, or origin.
He rubbed his temple.
If he acted rashly and chose the wrong person, he would not only fail the quest. He would create chaos within the Xavierius estate.
The chaos here would not be simple. It would not be a brawl in an alley. It would be a political fracture.
Trust would be broken between households, suspicion would be planted in elders' minds, and worst of all, it would direct attention toward him.
If a dark wizard escaped because of his miscalculation, the consequences would ripple far beyond this estate.
The old book demanded results but it did not shield him from aftermath.
He needed certainty or he needed someone else to create it for him.
His gaze drifted toward Alicia.
Angus was currently engaged in discussion with elders and Harry stood nearby. Only Alicia was relatively free.
Baston picked up a glass of juice and a plate of sliced beef, then approached her casually.
She immediately sensed the change in his demeanor.
"What's the matter?" she whispered.
"There's a dark wizard here."
Her fingers tightened around her fork.
"What? Who?"
"It should be among those five new guests."
Her shock was genuine.
"How can you be so sure?"
He did not answer. He simply looked at her steadily.
Alicia was intelligent. Her expression shifted from confusion to calculation.
"The cult?" she murmured faintly.
Baston did not confirm.
He did not deny. Silence was enough for the answer.
Her breathing steadied.
"What should we do?"
"Kill the dark wizard. No matter what, that person cannot escape."
The word kill made her flinch but her eyes sharpened instead of retreating.
If this was connected to the cult, hesitation could cost lives.
She thought quickly. She would need family backing and need discretion.
"One more thing," Baston added quietly, "Don't tell anyone this information came from me."
She blinked then understanding dawned upon her.
If the discovery traced back to her investigation and if she presented it as her own deduction, her standing within the family would rise.
The kingdom would surely take a note.
Her influence would increase while Baston would remain unseen. They both benefited.
She nodded, "Understood."
For a brief moment, Baston studied her expression. Excitement flickered beneath her composure. It was not greed and vanity but she had an ambition.
She saw opportunity while he saw concealment.
Two different intentions aligned perfectly.
That was the most efficient kind of alliance.
Alicia moved first to Angus.
Baston remained where he was, casually finishing his juice.
He did not need to kill personally.
The book had never specified that he must wield the blade. It only required the dark wizard's death.
Borrowing the knife was still killing.
There was a quiet cruelty in that realization.
He did not need blood on his hands because he only needed confirmation.
Was that better or worse?
The old book did not care about method. It cared about outcome and Baston had long since accepted that outcomes were what shaped the world and not intentions.
If he wished to survive within this system, hesitation had to be measured but not indulged.
He watched from afar.
*****
"What? Are you certain?" Angus asked in hushed urgency.
"Yes, uncle. One of these five guests is a hidden dark wizard."
Angus's expression hardened.
Dark wizards were not rumors. They were existential threats.
He questioned her briefly about her source.
Alicia crafted her explanation carefully, mentioning prior investigations regarding the dark potion tragedy, hinting at overlapping signs, and suggesting patterns.
It was not perfect but believable.
Angus had heard about the town incident. He connected the pieces himself. That was enough for him to act.
Within minutes, subtle movements began.
The Xavierius elders did not cause panic. They did not confront anyone openly. Instead, they repositioned people.
Guests were gently separated, servants were redirected, and guards circulated casually.
The five suspects were maneuvered into isolated positions within the estate grounds, far enough
from the main gathering to prevent hostage scenarios.
Reinforcements quietly entered the perimeter and protective enchantments were strengthened.
Nothing looked abnormal since everything was deliberate.
Servants laughed where they were told to laugh. Wine was refilled with steady hands and music continued in the distance.
From an outsider's perspective, the gathering had merely shifted locations. But beneath that surface, the estate had transformed into a silent hunting ground.
Invisible formations were activated one by one.
Mana threads tightened like a net drawn slowly across water.
The five suspects were no longer guests. They were pieces on a board and the elders were waiting for a signal to overturn it.
Baston watched and waited. The tension in the air shifted. It was not loud and not dramatic but it was there like static before lightning.
Baston felt it most clearly.
The subtle distortion in mana, the faint resistance beneath the air, and the way the old book remained unnaturally still.
It didn't react and didn't warn. It only waited.
The same way it had waited before the town incident unfolded.
The same way it had remained silent until the final moment.
He did not move and interfere. He simply observed as the Xavierius family prepared to tighten their net.
Somewhere within these grounds, darkness was breathing calmly.
It felt confident and hidden, unaware that a command had already been written for its death.
Baston lowered his gaze slightly, hiding the faint glint in his eyes.
The blade did not need to be in his hand.
It only needed to fall and once it did, the old book would judge.
Not by his morality and not by his courage but only by his result.