A Black Hole

The three terrifying adults suddenly burst into the house and killed the parents and older brother in an extremely brutal manner. No matter how the victims begged, the killers remained calm, their expressions indifferent, as if they were slaughtering livestock rather than human beings.

"This energy should be enough for a while. I just love this feeling!" one of the dark mages said, closing his eyes in apparent satisfaction.

"Two more to go, leave them to me," the dark mage holding a young boy's body said, tossing the corpse aside and licking his lips with a sinister smile.

The two boys, their terror at its peak, could only watch helplessly as the mage's withered hand reached toward them. Their bodies went limp, and their lower garments were soaked in fear.

The dry, gnarled fingers clutched their fragile necks, and the life essence of the two boys was slowly drained. They felt their strength fading, the pain becoming unbearable.

The dark mage relished the moment, but his two companions suddenly shouted in unison, "The knights are coming!"

The dark mage cursed under his breath and, with a cruel twist of his wrist, snapped both boys' necks, killing them instantly. The three mages then dashed out of the room, quickly vanishing into the distance.

Moments later, a group of heavily armored knights rushed past the window. A few knights entered the house, briefly glanced at the corpses inside, and then quickly exited without a word.

Once the noise died down, no one returned to investigate. The knights, being of noble blood, would never touch the filthy bodies of peasants. If any of the knights remembered this incident later, they might inform the specialized corpse collectors to come take care of the remains.

Glen, squinting at the dense, towering greenery surrounding them, asked with a skeptical tone, "Is this the destination?"

The old man was crouched on the ground, seemingly studying something, and replied vaguely, "Probably."

"Well, three silver coins won't be enough," Glen commented dryly.

"Five silver coins," the old man replied, rising without concern.

"You really are rich," Glen teased.

The old man didn't respond but tossed Glen a small vial. "Apply this to yourself; it'll mask your scent."

Glen took the vial, feeling its cold, smooth surface. He opened the cap and was immediately greeted by the strong, earthy scent of herbs, clearing his senses. Without asking what it was, he smeared the ointment over his body as instructed.

"Follow me," the old man said, stepping into the thick underbrush.

Glen activated his wolf poison, letting a thin layer of fur grow over his skin before following the old man. The dense vegetation made it nearly impossible to see more than an arm's length ahead, but the old man seemed to navigate through it effortlessly, leading Glen without a hitch.

After about half an hour, the path ahead suddenly opened up. The old man raised his hand, signaling for Glen to stop. Glen stood still, sensing something was off.

"There's a magic trap ahead," the old man whispered.

"How do you know?" Glen asked, scanning the area ahead. Everything appeared normal at first glance, though there was an unsettling stillness, too quiet to be natural.

The old man's sharp eyes swept the ground, and he produced a small pouch from his cloak. He grabbed a handful of something from it and crouched low, moving like a lizard across the ground.

Glen watched in silent admiration, impressed by the old man's agility. At his age, to perform such physically demanding movements was no small feat—it required tremendous strength in the arms and chest.

"Step where I step, follow me," the old man ordered.

Glen did as instructed, stepping carefully on the spots where the old man had just been. Every now and then, the old man scattered a fine powder from his pouch onto the ground before continuing.

Finally, after reaching the center of the clearing, the old man stood up straight. Glen couldn't hold back his curiosity anymore and asked, "Old man, how did you know there was a magic trap here? What was that powder you were scattering?"

The old man put away the pouch and explained slowly, "Though it looks normal, the terrain here is intentionally designed. If you observe carefully, you'll see the patterns of the vegetation and the ponds—they form a sort of rune, a high-level magical array. It's very sophisticated, and most people wouldn't notice, because there are no traces of human activity here, not even animal tracks."

Glen nodded, trying to understand, then asked, "And the powder?"

"Just a little helper. It helps me identify the trigger points for traps. But it's not something most people could use; you need extensive experience to pull it off," the old man added.

Glen let out a low whistle, impressed. "That sounds incredible... How do you know all of this?"

The old man glanced at Glen and said in a neutral tone, "I used to be a Doctor of Magic at the University of Soth-Sreidron in the Kingdom of Zen."

Glen's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, Soth-Sreidron? Isn't that the top magic academy in the Kingdom of Zen? You were a PhD there?"

The old man nodded casually.

"Then you must be able to…" Glen trailed off, wondering if the old man had magical powers.

"I'm not a mage, so no, I can't use magic," the old man interrupted, cutting off Glen's question.

"A Magic PhD and you can't use magic?" Glen blinked, utterly confused.

"Anyone can study magic theory, but not everyone can become a mage," the old man explained. He then pulled out a hunting rifle and continued, "Learning magic theory allows you to serve those who are mages. People like me, even legendary mages, would fight to have someone like me who can brew potions, calculate magical arrays, or help them with casting spells."

Glen nodded slowly, realizing that the old man was like a super assistant to the real mages.

"So, besides the high cost, are there other barriers to becoming a mage?" Glen asked.

"Of course," the old man answered confidently. "To become a mage, you need to have at least a 60% affinity with the elements. If you don't have that, learning magic is a waste of time."

Glen took that in, pondering the implications.

"Alright, we've been spotted. Let's deal with this problem first," the old man suddenly raised his rifle, his tone shifting to one of urgency.

Glen didn't react in surprise, as he had already heard the sounds of rapid footsteps approaching from the distance. He turned his attention to the source of the noise.

Five figures, all dressed in black robes, emerged from the underbrush, each of them with grotesque, unsettling faces. They rushed toward Glen and the old man, their arms stretching into sharp, sickle-like claws, dark energy swirling around them.

The lead attacker lunged forward with a shriek, his claws cutting through the air toward the old man.

However, the old man remained calm. He held his rifle steady, his finger pulling the trigger without hesitation.

Bang!

The bullet struck the attacker square in the forehead. The force halted the mage's advance, and his body flipped backward, rolling several times before coming to a stop.

The remaining four attackers didn't hesitate; they charged at the old man, and just as Glen was about to step in, he saw something that made his eyes widen in shock.

The old man suddenly pulled open his jacket, revealing a black hole in his chest.

From the black hole, countless black tendrils erupted, swirling around with terrifying speed. In an instant, the four attackers were shredded into pieces, their bodies torn apart by the dark, twisting appendages.

The tendrils retracted quickly, and the old man collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest in pain. His face was contorted in agony, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead. His veins bulged from the exertion, and it was clear that using such a power came at a high cost.

Glen, stunned by what he had just witnessed, stared at the old man and asked, "Why didn't you let me handle them? Why go through that pain?"

The old man, breathing heavily and still writhing in pain, barely managed to speak. "It wasn't necessary. And besides…"

He coughed, his voice strained, "...I didn't want you to think you could take on everyone."