Chapter 591 - 514: Ellis Lorin

Chapter 591: Chapter 514: Ellis Lorin

A colossal, tower-like figure—a Half-beastman with a ferocious scar across his face—now stood beside the hooded man.

He didn’t spare the hooded figure a glance. Instead, he lowered his head slightly, staring at the Dwarf stall owner with light brown eyes that glinted menacingly as he bared his teeth in a grin.

"Old man..."

Ogre’s voice was like two stones grinding together.

"This piece of junk rock... how much did you say it was? Seven Silver Eagles?"

The mercenary smile on the Dwarf stall owner’s face instantly froze. He clearly recognized Ogre, and what’s more, he could feel the man’s dangerous aura.

He swallowed hard, and his voice became much quieter.

"O-Ogre, sir... This, uh, this Master Mage is looking at the item. We were... we were just discussing..."

"Discussing?"

Ogre folded his brawny arms across his chest and leaned forward slightly, his Shadow almost completely engulfing the short stall owner.

"Looks to me like you’re trying to pass off some weathered rock from the outer mine to swindle a fool. Hm?"

"I wouldn’t dare! I absolutely wouldn’t!"

The old man waved his hands frantically, beads of sweat forming on his temples.

"Th-this really is a Fire Pattern Stone. It’s just... the quality... the quality might be a little... just a little bit off..."

"Three Silver Eagles."

Ogre cut him off, naming a price.

"Three? Sir, that doesn’t even cover my cost..."

The old man whined, his face twisting in misery.

"Cost?"

Ogre scoffed, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

He pointed toward the spot where the earlier conflict had taken place, where the crowd was just now dispersing.

"You were hiding pretty far back, but you’re not blind, are you? Do you know how much my master spent ’negotiating’ a moment ago?"

The Dwarf stall owner glanced in that direction. He seemed to recall some rumor, or perhaps the faint commotion he’d sensed earlier, and his face went deathly pale.

"...T-two?"

he ventured, his voice shaky.

Ogre just stared at him, not speaking.

"...O-one and a half! I really can’t go any lower, sir! I’ve got to make a living..."

The old man was practically begging.

Ogre finally grunted, pulled two slightly worn Silver Coins from his belt, and tossed them onto the stall with a sharp clink.

"Two. Take them. Anymore nonsense, and I’ll have a nice long ’chat’ with you about this stall’s ’management fee’."

As if granted a pardon, the stall owner snatched up the Silver Coins and thanked him profusely, not daring to spare the ore another glance.

It was only then that the hooded figure, who had been in a daze, abruptly came to his senses.

He instinctively turned his head, looking toward the source of the voices and the commotion.

The first thing he saw was a group of people standing a short distance behind and to the side of Ogre.

A young human man in a faded Priest Robe, with slightly curly brown hair and an expression of both curiosity and shrewdness, was sizing him up. There was no malice in his gaze, only probing curiosity.

A scrawny man with darting eyes, his face a mixture of mercenary anxiety and fear, stood hunched over on the outer edge of the group.

But what truly made the hooded figure’s breath catch was the one standing in the center of the group.

He was a young man with black hair and black eyes. His frame was tall and slender, and though he stood in the dim, grimy mine tunnel, it was as if an invisible barrier surrounded him, silently pushing back the surrounding clamor and Chaos.

His features...

The hooded figure couldn’t find the right words to describe them.

It wasn’t an aggressive or overwhelming sort of beauty, but an ineffable, near-perfect harmony and serenity.

Every line of his face seemed to have been sculpted with the most exacting precision, yet they came together with a flawless, effortless grace.

Especially his deep-set eyes. They were like a tranquil, ancient well, yet they faintly reflected the flickering, eerie light of the mine. Beneath their calm surface, they seemed to hold immeasurable Power.

He wore simple, dark trousers and a tunic, covered by an unremarkable traveling cloak. There were no conspicuous emblems or lavish decorations.

But the hooded figure was almost certain.

This man was no ordinary Adventurer.

He possessed an extraordinary bearing, one that flowed naturally and needed no external embellishments. The hooded figure had only ever sensed such an aura from a very few truly great personages, or from certain unfathomable hermits.

The tutors at the academy, with all their self-importance, and even the few Palace Mages he recalled glimpsing, all seemed to lack this kind of effortless Presence.

’Who are these people?’

’This black-haired young man who got me out of that jam... he speaks so calmly, yet he can make that ferocious Half-beastman bow and obey. Who is he?’

’What is their goal?’

Caught between shock and suspicion, the hooded figure had no intention of simply waiting to be captured.

Whatever the case, they clearly didn’t come in peace, and he had no desire to be caught in such a dangerous predicament.

With that thought, the hand hidden in his long sleeve moved, his fingertips silently tracing an invisible pattern.

’Without my Magic Staff to help, the effect will be greatly diminished, but moving a few dozen paces to get out of their line of sight shouldn’t be a problem...’

As he thought, the channeling of the Magic was nearly complete. But in the next instant...

A wide, firm hand landed steadily on his shoulder.

The hooded figure went rigid. He snapped his head up, his gray-blue eyes reflecting a face that was mere inches away.

It was the black-haired young man.

’He was standing several paces away just a moment ago... How did he do that? Teleportation? No, there were no ripples of Magic... Pure speed? But I didn’t even feel a stir of air!’

The shock was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, his mind going completely blank.

But no one was there to answer his questions.

The next moment, a weight settled on his shoulder, as if a Giant Stone had been placed upon it.

The Magic Power flowing through his fingertips dissipated like a severed thread. The nascent structure of the Magic silently crumbled.

A calm yet irresistible Power flowed from the hand. It wasn’t a brutish suppression, yet it made his muscles lock up instantly, leaving him unable to move even a finger.

Then came a low voice.

"A Caster? I’d advise you not to make any rash moves."

"Who are you people?"

The hooded figure gritted his teeth, struggling with all his might to break free, but his body was pinned in place, unable to move an inch.

A low growl, laced with despair and defiance, escaped his lips.

"Are you from the Hand of Law? Or are you Pursuers sent by the Silent Curtain?"

"I already followed Chapter Three, Article Seven of the *Leaving the Institute Regulations*! Under the watch of an Observer, I returned all academy-issued equipment, including ’Cyan Oath’! I didn’t take a single page from the restricted collection, nor did I reveal the slightest substance of any secret lore to the outside world!"

"According to the supplementary agreement of the *Code*, so long as I have not committed ’Forbidden Disclosure’ or the ’Sin of Oathbreaking,’ not even a Law Enforcer has the right to forcibly apprehend me outside the academy’s jurisdiction!"

Roland’s eyebrows rose slightly at these words.

He leaned down, his deep black eyes calmly gazing into the gray-blue eyes that shone brightly with agitation from within the Shadow of the hood.

"Relax. We mean you no harm."

His voice was softer now, but still clear.

"We just want to ask you a few things. And of course, as a show of good faith..."

As he spoke, he released his hand from the man’s shoulder.

The heavy, binding sensation vanished instantly. The hooded figure staggered back half a step before catching his balance, panting heavily as he stared at Roland, still shaken.

His eyes were a mixture of Fear, wariness, and a trace of disbelief.

"My name is Rudolph. I’m just an ordinary Adventurer,"

Roland continued, his tone placid.

"Your name is...?"

The hooded figure’s gaze swept over Ogre and Holland, who were closing in, and then to Copper Tongue, who was peering at them cautiously from a distance.

Finally, he sighed in resignation, raised a hand, and slowly pulled back his hood. He revealed a face that was young, yet etched with exhaustion and the harshness of the road.

His brownish hair was messy, but his gray-blue eyes were still clear, now filled with a storm of complex emotions.

"...Ellis,"

he said in a low voice, which held a trace of hoarseness.

"Ellis Lorin."