Two months after the first trial, in a noble room lit by lamps that emitted a faint blue glow—mana lamps—the ambiance was calm and refined.
A gray fur carpet covered the floor, and a bookshelf full of tomes lined the wall. An armchair sat in the center, occupied by a woman with nearly white blonde hair and deep blue eyes. It was Maya. She sat reading a book on mana, though her gaze appeared slightly distracted.
Kneeling beside her was another woman, dressed in a long black-and-white dress—clearly a maid.
Maya glanced at her and asked coldly, "Any trace of the red-eyed slave?"
"No, I'm sorry, my lady. The servants have been searching based on the description you provided—dark hair, pale skin, red eyes—but we haven't found anyone matching it in the camp. He might be in one of the smaller clan camps, but we have no authority to search there."
"Alright. You may leave," Maya said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
As the maid rose, she hesitated before asking, "My lady, forgive my boldness, but why does that slave interest you?"
Maya was silent for a few seconds before answering, "No reason other than curiosity."
The maid bowed and left the room.
Left alone, Maya thought to herself calmly, "I don't remember seeing that face on the way to the expedition… Is my memory failing? No, that's not possible."
Though the book remained in her hands, her eyes drifted toward the window in front of her. From her elevated position atop a mountain slope, she could see multiple homes and structures scattered below. Her gaze lingered on the sky outside. Of the nine white castle, only three remained—the ones with seven, eight, and nine towers. She stared in silence for a few more minutes, then refocused on her reading.
******
Meanwhile, Faust was striking a dummy with his sword. Shirtless, he wore only the baggy pants stolen from the spearman during the first trial. The shackles on his wrists remained, but he had long since stopped caring about them, their weight were already natural to him.
On the ground nearby, an open sword manual guided his training as he repeated techniques. He was improving quickly now—having a proper manual made a world of difference.
His body had become more muscular from training, his physique developing alongside his skill with the sword. His hair was tied back with a strip of leather.
He trained the same movement for over an hour before setting his sword down and sitting, breathing heavily as he drank from a canteen. Sweat dripped from his body, and though his features still made him look younger than he was, his form had become well-built.
When not training with the executioner's sword, he practiced his mana techniques. With the help of a mana book, he found other spells he could use despite being only a one-circled mage.
Of all the techniques, he chose to focus on two. The first was Mana Light—a floating orb of mana that hovered by his side. It required constant control, but once he learned it, maintaining it became easier. He was already managing it with some efficiency.
The second was Mana Spikes—similar to the basic mana bullets he could cast, but more focused on piercing than blunt force. They didn't cause much external damage but were ideal for penetration.
He also filled pages of an empty journal with detonation runes, using ink made from the blood of spikes and fish he caught with his new spear—a far more efficient weapon than his old makeshift javelin.
All this time, he was preparing himself—both for the inevitable next trial and something else. He wanted to fight a monster, to push his limits and gain true experience. Though his skills with mana and swordsmanship were improving, and his rune drawing had become faster, he had no idea how he compared to others. He needed real combat experience.
He had isolated himself from everything, save for brief trips to fish or bathe in the river.
Returning to the house he had claimed as his base, Faust rested, then prepared to leave. He wore the black robe taken from the spearman's corpse. It lacked a belt, but he didn't care about appearances and left it hanging open.
He strapped the spear to his back and carried one of the pouches—inside it, a few pages from his rune book. He didn't want to risk losing the entire journal.
Finally, he took up his sword and left the camp, scaling a repaired section of the wall with ease—experience had made him nimble across rough terrain.
He set off through the tall grass, staying near the river. He wanted to find a Fisher Wolf, and he already had a plan to deal with it.
After more than three hours of tracking, he finally found one by the river, feasting. It stood over two meters tall, with a coat of dull gray fur. From its mouth hung grotesque, writhing tentacles. Where eyes should have been were spiraled, ear-like cavities—unnerving and alien. It leaned over the water, consuming fish with its grotesque maw.
Faust approached in silence. He had already learned how to move without the shackles making noise. Now, it was time to see how far he had come.
When he was close to the fisher wolf, he grabbed four papers with detonation runes on them, and one with a different rune—Rest.
He then leapt from the tall grass toward the fisher wolf. The beast quickly turned around and moved its tentacles with incredible speed, but just as one was about to touch Faust's body, he slapped a detonation rune onto it.
The liquid coating the tentacles helped the paper stick, but he didn't detonate it. If his guess was correct, the creature only turned cowardly when injured or faced with a superior threat.
Since it was attacking instead of fleeing, either his theory was right, or the one he had seen before had simply been coward by nature. Maybe they had different personalities.
The monster whipped him with one of its tentacles. When it hit, he was thrown back a few steps but managed to stick another detonation paper. Still, he didn't hesitate—he had already planned everything.
He was struck twice more. He defended with the sword and stuck two more papers onto the creature.
"Weird… This one is so much slower than the one I saw before…"
This fisher wolf was fast, but nothing extraordinary—maybe slightly faster than him.
Thanks to that, and his sharpened senses, Faust managed to attach all four detonation papers to the creature's tentacles.
He still didn't detonate them. Something about this creature was off. Why didn't it use its claws? Why didn't it rush him or leap? Why just attack with the tentacles?
Suddenly, he understood. The hand he'd been using to place the runes began to go numb, and his vision blurred slightly. The tentacles were venomous.
Yet strangely, Faust remained calm.
Instead of retreating, he continued blocking the creature's blows and slapped the final paper—the Rest rune—onto its tentacles. This rune was different. It couldn't be pre-charged and had to be activated in the moment. Once active, its effect would persist until his mana ran out. The rune itself wouldn't dissipate. It was an interesting mechanic.
He used about sixty percent of his total mana to activate it—which was quite impressive, considering that not too long ago he couldn't even activate it.
The creature slowed down. Its attacks became clumsy. The rest rune efficiency was amazing.
Faust seized the chance and detonated all four runes. Most of the monster's tentacles exploded, releasing a thick, transparent liquid. The beast turned and tried to flee, but it was too wounded and too sluggish.
Faust jumped onto its back. With one of the few techniques he had practiced, he twisted his body and brought the executioner's sword down with all his strength, cleaving the creature's head from its body.
It collapsed to the ground, dark blood spilling from its neck.
Standing atop the corpse, Faust looked at the sky. A weight lifted from his heart. He had grown stronger—but it still wasn't enough. This fisher wolf wasn't the largest or fastest he had seen. It was only a step forward.
His dizziness and numbness were worsening, but he pulled a healing rune from his pouch and activated it. The rune glowed and the paper crumbled. It consumed about thirty percent of his mana. Ten percent remained. From barely being able to cast once per day, he could now use it three times. He had truly come a long way.
The venom's effects began to fade. He had already tested the healing rune's effectiveness against poison months ago using the red-striped fish that numbed his hand.
Dragging the entire body of the wolf—head included—he started the slow journey back to his settlement. He didn't want to risk attracting other creatures with the sound of his explosions. His detonation rune zone had already expanded beyond the wall, so once he reached it, he'd be safe.
For once, fortune was on his side. He encountered no problems.
He climbed the damaged section of the wall, hauling the corpse behind him, and finally entered the settlement.
He quickly brought it into one of the empty houses he didn't use for anything—he wouldn't risk the blood or smell drawing in more creatures. He still didn't fully understand the local fauna. He began dismantling the fisher wolf.
It took hours, but eventually he had a decent yield.
The meat alone would feed him for a month even if he ate daily, there was no more need for extreme rationing.
He planned to use the pelt for an extra layer of clothing and added protection. The organs would serve as food too.
The blood, on the other hand, would become ink. Faust had already crafted a large wooden bowl from broken settlement wood for this exact purpose.
The transparent liquid from the tentacles would be stored for later, since it was venomous.
"Now… if I could hunt another, but make it my slave instead…" he muttered. "I need to increase my mana quickly, but then I will have to get to second-circle. I think three Rest runes would be enough to subdue it without killing."
In truth, subduing without killing was far more difficult than simply ending a life.