Now there was distance between them, measured in slow steps and a dirt road that cut through low grass and scattered stones, the late morning sun stretching their shadows long and thin as Voren and Iris walked side by side.
They were heading toward Iris's house.
It sat on the poorer edge of town, where the paths thinned, roofs sagged, and fences were patched more with hope than wood. Voren had walked this road countless times before. He knew where the ground dipped, where the weeds grew taller, where Iris always slowed her pace just a little because the stones hurt her feet.
What he didn't know was the way Iris was looking at him now.
She kept stealing glances, then holding them longer than she meant to. Her eyes traced the line of his jaw, the way his shoulders moved when he walked, the calm confidence in his posture that hadn't been there a year ago.
No.
It had been there.
She just hadn't noticed it properly before.
Iris walked with her hands clasped in front of her, fingers fidgeting, heart beating just a little too fast. She told herself to look away. She didn't.
Voren Kaleid.
He had entered her life quietly. No grand entrance. No dramatic moment. Just a boy who listened when she spoke. A boy who didn't interrupt. Who didn't laugh when she talked about small dreams or worries that others dismissed as trivial.
He wasn't like the other boys in town.
They stared too long. Spoke too loud. Treated kindness like weakness and women like something to be won or mocked. They talked about strength as if it only lived in fists.
Voren never did that.
He asked how she was.
He noticed when she was tired.
He apologized when he made mistakes.
Because of him, Iris laughed more. She felt lighter. Braver. She spoke up when she used to stay quiet. She smiled at the world instead of shrinking from it.
Somewhere along the way, without her realizing it, he became her anchor.
Her person.
Hers to love.
Hers to protect.
Hers to hold tight when the nights grew heavy and the future felt too big.
And yet—
His wings had grown.
She could see it now. After his awakening. The mana. The path opening before him like a road bathed in light. He was becoming a mage. The thing he had always wanted to be.
She was proud.
So proud it hurt.
Because those wings were growing beyond her reach.
She felt sadness curl in her chest, quiet and aching. But it didn't turn bitter. It softened instead, blending with happiness. If loving someone meant wanting them to shine, even if that light took them farther away, then she would love him properly.
Even if it meant letting go someday.
Voren glanced at her. "What?" he asked, amused. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
Iris startled, cheeks flushing. "I—I wasn't staring!"
"You were," he said lightly, smiling.
She huffed. "You're imagining things."
He laughed, the sound warm and easy, and something inside her settled.
They continued walking.
Voren talked about magic as they went. He spoke about mage paths, his eyes bright as ever.
"There are religious mages," he said, gesturing as if arranging ideas in the air. "They administer power from divine entities, and work for the church. Then alchemical mages, who refine mana into substances and brews."
He paused, thinking. "There are also rune mages and spirit callers too. And a dozen others."
Iris listened intently.
"But me?" Voren continued. "I want to be a warrior mage. Wielding the sword like my father. Blade and Magic together."
Her lips curved into a smile. Of course he did.
They were close now. Iris's house came into view.
And then—
They heard loud voices.
As a harsh, grating male voice cut through the air.
"Don't test my patience, old woman. I said three hundred silver."
A weaker voice answered, trembling but stubborn. "P-Please… I gave you everything I had. One more week. Just one week…"
Voren's steps slowed.
Iris froze.
Her face drained of color.
They both knew that voice.
The man sneered. "One hundred eighty isn't enough. The law is the law."
The old woman's voice cracked. "My lord, I beg you—"
Voren's fist clenched.
Cobblestone.
That was the town's name. A fitting one. A place that scraped by, forgotten by the world. And ruling over it like a parasite was Town Lord Gravis Holt.
Every tenth of the month, he collected land tax. From everyone. No exceptions. No mercy.
Voren had forgotten.
In his past life, he hadn't felt it. His father had made sure of that. Holt didn't dare step near their home after the first and only time he tried.
But Iris didn't have that shield.
Memory slammed into Voren.
Iris at his door, tears streaking her face. Her grandmother dragged away in chains. Prison for unpaid tax.
Last time, he had been too late.
This time—
Never again.
They stepped onto the property.
Holt stood there in fine but worn clothes, rings heavy on his fingers. Four guards flanked him, clad in tunics, trousers, breastplates, steel blades at their sides.
Iris gasped. "Grandma!"
She rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside the frail old woman, who was bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the dirt.
"Please," her grandmother sobbed, kowtowing. "Please give me time. I'll gather the rest. I swear it."
Iris grabbed her shoulders. "Grandma, stop! Don't beg him!"
Holt scoffed. "Know your place, girl."
She looked up at him, tears burning in her eyes. "You're a monster, Holt! A filthy leech!"
The guards tensed.
Holt's lips curled. His gaze slid over Iris slowly. Too slowly. From her face to her shoulders, down the curve of her body.
Holt's gaze made Voren feel something cold crawling up his spine.
"Well," Holt said, smirking, "there are… other ways to settle debt."
"One night," Holt continued. "With you. And I'll call the tax paid."
Iris spat in his face.
The sound was sharp.
Then Silence followed.
Holt wiped his cheek slowly, as his expression twisted. "Kill her."
A guard drew his blade, aiming it at Iris.
"Touch her," Voren said, stepping forward, voice low and deadly, "and it will be the last thing your hands ever touch."
Laughter suddenly erupted.
Loud, cruel, and full of contempt.
The guards doubled over, clutching their stomachs as if they had just heard the funniest joke of their miserable lives.
"Did the brat just threaten us?" one of them wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.
Another guard snorted. "You hear that? Little mouse thinks he's a lion."
They looked Voren up and down deliberately, eyes crawling over his clothes, his age, his unremarkable frame. To them, he was just another skinny teenager from the poor side of town. Someone meant to be shoved aside, beaten down, forgotten.
One of them spat on the ground. "Kid, do you even know how many bones I've broken with this blade?"
"Probably cries when he gets a paper cut," another added, laughter thick with malice.
Their mockery grew louder, feeding on itself, until it drowned out the sound of Iris's ragged breathing and her grandmother's quiet sobs.
Then Holt raised a hand.
The laughter didn't stop immediately. That was how little respect they had for him.
"Enough," Holt said coldly.
The guards straightened, though grins still lingered on their faces.
Holt's gaze remained locked on Voren. At first, it was dismissive. Annoyed. Then his eyes narrowed.
Recognition struck.
"You…" he muttered.
His jaw tightened. A muscle twitched at his temple.
"You're Aldric's son."
The air shifted.
Holt remembered.
He remembered standing in this same dirt years ago, smug and confident, flanked by men just like these. He remembered threatening, extorting, enjoying the fear in people's eyes.
And then Aldric Kaleid had arrived.
No shouting. No theatrics.
Just a single step forward.
Holt remembered the pain. The way his ribs had cracked under Aldric's fist. The way the world had spun as he was slammed into the ground like garbage. The humiliation of begging while the entire street watched.
Aldric had looked down at him then and said, calmly,
"Never come near my family again."
Holt's blood began to boil.
That man had taken something from him. Not just pride. Authority. Fear. Control.
And now his son stood here, daring to speak the same way.
The resemblance wasn't in the face.
It was in the eyes.
Holt's lips curled slowly into a grin. An ugly one. Twisted. Full of venom.
"Well, well," he said, laughing darkly. "Looks like the dog raised a pup with teeth."
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. "This is perfect."
His eyes gleamed as he turned to his guards. "Beat him."
"Break a few bones," Holt continued casually. "Tie him to a pole if you feel like it."
He shrugged. "We'll say he attacked first. Self-defense."
His smile then sharpened. "After all, who's going to believe a poor boy over the town lord?"
The implication was clear.
Even if Aldric came knocking, Holt had already prepared the lie. A clean one. A simple one. One that would drag things into bureaucracy and delay and excuses.
By the time anything came of it, the damage would be done.
The guards cracked their knuckles and stepped forward, blades scraping half out of their sheaths.
Iris's breath hitched. "Voren—!"
Her grandmother whimpered, hands shaking as she clutched Iris's sleeve.
Voren didn't move.
He stood there, staring at them, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
Four men.
All adults. All armed. All used to violence.
Can I do this?
His mind raced.
Physically, he was still weak. Sixteen. Apprentice Rank. No real combat experience in this life.
Magic was his advantage.
Mana.
But even that was limited.
The shadow mana body enhancement technique flashed through his thoughts.
Rare rank.
Complex. Dangerous.
In his previous life, he had started learning it only much later, just before the academy entrance exam. Even then, he never fully mastered it. He hit a bottleneck he couldn't break through before everything ended.
Most mages never touched techniques like this. Enhancing the body directly with mana strained the flesh, the bones, the nerves. One mistake and you crippled yourself.
He could only attempt it because he was A-Ranked.
Even then, it was a gamble.
If it failed, he would be beaten senseless.
If it backfired, he might not stand again.
Voren glanced at Iris.
Her eyes were wet. Fear and hope tangled together as she looked at him.
He remembered her crying in his past life. Remembered being unable to help.
Never again.
He inhaled slowly.
If I don't step forward now… I never will.
Shadow mana stirred.
He guided it carefully at first, threading it through his limbs. The technique was intricate, requiring precise control. It wasn't just raw power. It was tempering.
The mana seeped into muscle fibers, reinforcing them. Wrapped around joints, easing friction. Coiled along his spine, sharpening his balance and reflexes.
Agility first.
Speed.
Then strength.
Pain followed immediately.
His muscles screamed as if they were being torn apart and reforged at the same time. His bones felt heavy, dense, like iron being hammered.
His breath hitched. Sweat broke out across his skin.
His teeth clenched so hard his jaw trembled.
The guards noticed him standing still, eyes closed, body trembling.
"What's wrong with him?" one guard scoffed.
"Scared stiff," another laughed. "Looks like he pissed himself already."
"Hey kid," one called mockingly, "you praying to your daddy to save you?"
They laughed again, loud and careless, completely unaware of what was happening right in front of them.
Voren pushed.
He forced the mana past the familiar wall.
Past the bottleneck.
His vision blurred white for a split second as his body screamed in protest.
Ding!
[Technique: Shadow Mana Body Enhancement (Rare) Lvl.1 Mastered!]
The pain snapped into clarity.
The world sharpened.
Sounds became crisp. Movements slowed. Every breath, every twitch of muscle around him felt clear and deliberate.
Voren opened his eyes.
He moved.
The first guard stepped forward—
And suddenly the ground rushed up to meet him.
He didn't even see the punch. One moment he was sneering, the next his feet left the earth and he crashed backward, gasping, air ripped from his lungs.
"What—?!"
The second guard drew his blade, but Voren was already inside his reach. An elbow slammed into his throat. The man collapsed, choking, clawing at his neck.
Steel rang as another sword came swinging.
Voren twisted. The blade grazed air.
He kicked.
The impact cracked ribs. The guard screamed and folded.
"What the hell—!"
"He's fast!"
Panic replaced arrogance.
Shadow clung to Voren's limbs like unseen armor, reinforcing every strike, every step.
He was faster.
Stronger.
Relentless.
The fourth guard tried to run.
Voren caught him.
One strike. Down.
Silence fell.
Iris stared, hand over her mouth, heart pounding wildly. Her cheeks burned. Awe and disbelief flooding her chest.
He was incredible.
He was terrifying.
He was hers.
Holt stumbled back, face pale, confidence shattered.
"W-Wait—!"
Voren grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the dirt.
Dust exploded.
"Beg," Voren said quietly.
Holt did.
And this time, no one stopped him.
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A/N: Very Long Chapter, Enjoy!!
As mandated by webnovel, I had to introduce a smuggy noble and the MC teaching him lesson