“Mana Control requires killing two enemies above your level within five seconds, each with a different spell aimed at their weak points, just to unlock it.”
Neither skill was easy to obtain.
A bit of luck was needed, not to mention precision. Mana Boost could be naturally acquired by learning area-of-effect spells, but Mana Control was far more demanding. Some players even grinded relentlessly just for this one skill.
‘With this, I don’t need to worry.’
Reports praised her contributions, and Ian couldn’t help but anticipate how much more she’d achieve.
‘By the time she returns, her level will have shot up considerably.’
He decided to save the joy of checking her growth for later and instead focused on drafting a letter. While the undead suppression was progressing smoothly, he warned against advancing too deep. Hubert was capable, but caution was necessary—the full extent of the undead numbers remained unknown.
[Objective: Undead Subjugation – 92/?]
Despite nearly 100 kills, undead still emerged, and Ian was beginning to feel the urgency. The possibility of an even larger horde lurking in the uncharted territory crossed his mind.
Yet, his absence from the frontlines was deliberate—he had another target in mind.
Knock knock.
“Young Master, are you in?”
Nea’s voice came from the door.
“Enter.”
She stepped inside as permitted.
“Today marks the third day. Do you need more time?”
“No, I’ve completed the investigation as ordered. I’ve narrowed it down to three individuals who fit your criteria.”
“Good work.”
True to her word, she’d finished in three days—and narrowed it down to just three suspects.
‘I expected at least twenty, maybe even fifty.’
It was better than he’d anticipated.
The targets were migrants or outsiders who’d arrived in Ansen within the past year—those who didn’t work and frequently wandered at night.
The first was a young man from Vilsen Village who’d lost an arm to a monster attack in his childhood. His night-time walks were attributed to sleepwalking. Ian moved on to the next report.
The second was a former mercenary who lived off his savings, drowning himself in alcohol. Currently detained after assaulting a patrol guard while trying to reach a tavern during curfew.
The third was a woman.
She cared for her ill grandmother during the day, leaving her unable to work. Twice a week, she ventured out at night to buy medicine.
Ian stood, holding the report.
“Nea, we’re going to scout their residences immediately. Lead the way.”
It was time to get to work.
***
The Next Night
“Why do the medicines keep disappearing?”
Business was already slow, but for the past month, his stock had been vanishing twice a week. At first, he thought it was a mistake—until he checked the ledger. By the time he realized, the losses had piled up to nearly 50 bottles. Someone had been stealing for half a year.
Now, he was losing sleep over it.
Despite setting traps and reporting it, nothing helped. With the undead crisis, the guards had no time for petty thieves.
“Hah, just you wait. When I catch you…”
A wooden club rested beside him.
‘Tonight, I’ll get you.’
He planned to ambush the thief and hand them over to the guards—after a thorough beating.
Then—
Knock knock.
“Is anyone there?”
The pharmacist tensed, gripping the club.
‘A thief wouldn’t knock… Would they?’
Cautiously, he cracked the door open.
A delicate-looking woman stood outside.
‘An accomplice? A distraction?’
He scanned the area—no one else was around.
“What brings you here at this hour?”
“I need medicine. My grandmother is very ill.”
“We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.”
Irritation was noticeable from his voice.
She stepped closer, pleading.
“Please, isn’t there any way?”
He was about to refuse when—
‘Oh?’
Up close, she was quite pretty.
His gaze drifted lower.
“Well… maybe there’s a way.”
His tone turned sly, eyes gleaming.
The woman understood instantly and nodded.
“Fine. But promise you’ll give me the medicine.”
“Of course. I might even removed the fee.”
He ushered her inside, locking the door behind them.
In one swift motion, he grabbed her from behind.
‘Heh. Jackpot.’
She was slender but young and beautiful—a rare treat.
Just as he leaned in—
“Wait. Look into my eyes.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I’m nervous… It’s my first time.”
“If you insist.”
Eye contact wouldn’t stop him.
But the moment their eyes met—
Flash!
Light erupted from her pupils. The pharmacist’s gaze glazed over.
Her expression twisted in disgust.
Thud!
She drove a knee into his gut.
“How many times must I do this? Every visit—playing the pitiful girl for the guards, then dealing with this creep? Ugh, so annoying!”
She vented her frustration, kicking him again.
“…”
The pharmacist remained dazed, slowly rising to his feet.
“Hey, say something!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Right, my fault for talking to you.”
Crack!
This time, her kick landed on his shin. Yet he showed no pain, standing blankly.
“You piss me off the most. That disgusting look every time. Makes my job easier, but it’s infuriating. Consider this payback.”
“Yes.”
“Then give me the medicine. Now.”
The pharmacist obediently fetched the bottles and handed them over.
“I’m leaving. In ten minutes, forget everything that happened here and go back to whatever you were doing.”
“Yes.”
Knock knock.
Just as she turned to leave, another knock echoed at the door.
“Who in their right mind visits this quack at this hour?”
This was the first time she’d seen customers at this shabby shop. She assumed it might be a patrol guard who’d overheard voices inside.
“Deal with them and send them away.”
“Understood.”
The pharmacist moved toward the door—
CRASH!
The door exploded inward.
The force sent him flying, knocked unconscious as the wood splintered. First his gut, then his shin, and now his face—the woman stared silently at the pharmacist, who’d finally passed out.
“Well. Didn’t expect that.”
A man stepped through the wreckage, his boots crunching over broken wood. The woman froze as their eyes met—
“Ghk—!”
She moved back in shock.
The intruder wasn’t a guard.
It was Ian.
***
In this village, even the dimmest fool knew Ian’s face. He was a local legend, someone people couldn’t help but hear about. Even migrants had glimpsed him during their visits.
Yet seeing him here, now—it was unreal.
“Nothing dramatic. I’ve been looking for you, Roana.”
“H-How do you know my name—?”
Her blood ran cold.
Why would the young master of this territory know her? Why was he hunting her?
“Your grandmother’s critically ill, I hear?”
“W-What? I mean… yes.”
Her confusion deepened. How could he possibly know such details? The lord’s son wouldn’t memorize the lives of thousands of villagers, let alone a migrant who’d arrived less than a year ago.
“Are you sure about that?”
“I-I don’t understand what you’re implying, Young Master.”
“Oh?”
Ian clapped his hands sharply.
From outside, footsteps approached. Several soldiers entered, dragging a bound, thrashing old woman—Roana’s “grandmother”—and dropped her at Ian’s feet.
“Ghk! Kkhhaa—!”
The woman snarled, straining against her restraints, her milky eyes wild.
“Care to explain why your ‘deathly ill’ grandmother is so… lively?”
“I—I’m just an ordinary girl! I swear, I didn’t know she was undead!”
Silence.
Absolute, crushing silence.
The soldiers stared at her, baffled.
Ian smirked.
“I only asked about your energetic grandmother. I was investigating welfare fraud—who said anything about undead?”
“……!”
She’d confessed without prompting.
“Are you a dark mage, then? Is this woman your zombie? Did you visit this shop to… establish an alibi for your necromancy?”
Before he finished, dark mist coiled around Roana.
“Darkness Swarm!”
A tide of shadow surged toward Ian.
From nowhere, a wand appeared in her hand.
“Young Master!”
The soldiers shouted for him to dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, he inhaled sharply—
Thud.
—and stepped forward, meeting the spell head-on.
In a blur, his sword left its sheath.
Shing!
The darkness split apart, dissipating like smoke under his blade.
“You called yourself an ‘ordinary girl,’ yet you cast dark magic without hesitation.”
Ian grinned.
His smile was like that of a hunter who had finally cornered his prey.