Chapter 63: Striking First

Gareth had clearly said it was a secret operation, yet he strolled ahead utterly unconcerned, as if taking a leisurely walk in his own garden.

Nolan could only follow silently behind, each step taken with utmost caution.

The black-haired youth leading the way showed no sign of stopping, his words tumbling out like a barrage of cannon fire.

“Hey, where did you board the ship? And where are you headed this time?”

“……From Romern.”

“Romern? Oh— that free city-state, right? I have a vague memory of it. When we docked, I went up on deck and caught a distant glimpse. In terms of prosperity, it’s not bad at all.”

A silence stretched between the two, broken only by the echo of footsteps in the empty corridor.

“By the way, how old are you this year?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve?” Gareth raised his brows in exaggerated surprise, glancing back at him. “From the way you talk and act, I thought you were nearly fifteen.”

“No such thing…… But after this year, I’ll be thirteen.”

“Tch, I see—” Gareth deliberately drew out his tone, speaking in a mocking, sing-song voice.

“What’s with that expression…… Don’t stare at me like that.”

“What, getting shy just from a few looks?”

“……It’s not shyness, exactly. It just feels really weird.”

“Hahaha, don’t be so sensitive…… Speaking of which, what’s the deal with that arm of yours that doesn’t move? Born that way, or did you get injured later?”

Nolan’s lips pressed into a thin line, offering no reply.

“Your eyes just got really scary all of a sudden? Don’t tell me it’s like in those legendary tales—some unspeakable ancient power sealed inside? ……Hey, I was just kidding.”

“Could you please stop……”

Just as Nolan was on the verge of losing his patience, Gareth suddenly raised his index finger, his expression turning deadly serious in an instant.

The abrupt shift silenced Nolan immediately, making it seem as though he were the one who had been chattering nonstop.

“Shh…… Look over there.”

The two quickly crouched down, hiding behind a stack of wooden crates.

At the exit leading to the upper deck, two burly sailors stood like iron towers, their iron-shod staffs glinting coldly in the dim light, firmly guarding the only passage.

“That temple monk must have gone up to the VIP cabins on the upper level.”

Gareth whispered, his red eyes gleaming in the shadows.

“We’ll have to deal with these two guards before we can move forward.”

“I see……” Nolan eyed Gareth with half-hearted belief, waiting for his next move.

Yet as time ticked by, the young man beside him remained utterly still, merely gazing back at him with a meaningful look.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you just say you’d handle them……”

“Exactly.” Gareth replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “So what are you still standing around for? It’s your turn to step up.”

“Me?!” Nolan pointed at himself in disbelief. “You’re telling me to take on those two bruisers?”

“Who else?” Gareth arched a brow slightly. “What did you think I brought you along for, anyway?”

“It’s not that…… Why do you think I could even handle them?”

Nolan kept his voice low, his tone laced with confusion. “Do I look like someone who can fight anywhere?”

“No— you don’t look like it at all.” Gareth flashed a cryptic smile, though his voice carried unshakable certainty. “But I know you have a way to deal with thugs of this level.”

He leaned in a fraction closer, his words laced with a subtle allure.

“Remember what I mentioned? My ancestor was a companion to the Hero. Our family passes down a talent for judging people, said to come from that very forebear who followed the Hero.

They say back then, when the Hero was still down on his luck, he spotted at a glance that the man who would become a legend was no mere pond fish—”

Gareth’s red eyes locked onto Nolan’s. “I know a bit of that skill myself. So I’m betting you’re not as simple as you seem on the surface.”

“Don’t butter me up with that nonsense. I don’t buy that there’s any such talent.”

Nolan averted his gaze from those piercing red eyes that seemed to see right through him, falling silent for a moment before finally turning his attention back to the sailors guarding the ladder.

‘Tiya’s words…… There must be a way to get past here—’

The boy murmured to himself in his mind, his fingers unconsciously digging into the rough edge of the wooden crate.

He lifted his eyes slightly, scanning the obstacle ahead and the two oblivious sailors.

“Of course, you don’t need to take both. Just distract one of them, and I’ll handle the other—”

Gareth’s voice echoed in his ear.

“But— I have a feeling you’ll just stir up some kind of mess.”

Nolan looked at Gareth with lingering doubt, hesitating before finally sighing.

“Fine. If it’s about catching them off guard…… That should work.

Yeah…… Might as well test the results from these past few days.”

He drew in a steady breath, then stepped out, shuffling toward the pool of light cast by the oil lamp near the door.

Gareth tilted his head to watch Nolan, noticing that the boy’s lips had begun moving rapidly at some point, as if reciting an incantation.

“No…… That is the incantation.”

He thought to himself, sensing the faint, almost imperceptible trace of mana, and quietly formed his judgment.

But— what could such feeble magic and mana possibly achieve?

Gareth narrowed his eyes, peeking out just a little, watching Nolan’s actions without stirring.

“With this body as blade, engrave eternal firmness; even a frame of mere iron shall endure a thousand grinds and myriad strikes—”

As Nolan chanted the spell, he recalled Leyak’s guidance— the secrets of magic were vast as the deep sea, and he was no genius, so he couldn’t hope to plumb those depths.

That’s right. According to what the old man had told him that day, his talent in the magical arts was quite crude, and he had zero aptitude for arcane principles— by all rights, he shouldn’t be able to grasp any complex magical concepts.

But if it was just for using them— without bothering with those profound theories like the eight phases, basic elements, harmony laws, shaping theorems…… all those topics that left even veteran mages reeling— and simply aiming to wield the spells best suited to him—

“Magic seems complicated at first glance, with every founding mage peddling their own doctrine. But it’s really nothing special.

To make an imperfect analogy, it’s like deploying troops— marshaling and directing those mana springs drifting free in the natural world.

And unlike most casters, you have to invite this army into your own fragile body—”

Treat it like an army to command, huh……

As the words sank in, Nolan imagined himself leading vast hosts of soldiers, clenching his fist amid the slight ache in his muscles, feeling power surge into his arm.

This is rigid enchantment.

“Hey! You little brat, what are you doing here!”

The two sailors heard the footsteps and turned, seeing only a lone boy approaching, hands empty and unarmed— they immediately lowered their guard by a third.

“I have urgent news to report.” Nolan kept his head bowed, not striking right away, but speaking in a tone of feigned deference.

“What urgent news? If you had a nightmare, go cry to your dead mommy instead of whining here—” One sailor sneered.

“I…… I wanted to report that the temple monk might be a problem.”

Nolan glanced at the two, one on either side, then continued.

“What are you babbling about?” The sailor growled harshly, raising his staff as if to strike. “You look plenty suspicious to me. Come on! You’re coming with me!”

Whoosh!

Nolan had meant to explain further, but a sharp whistle cut through the air by his ear.

The sailor to his right suddenly staggered like a drunkard.

“You— you you, ambu—”

Thud!

Nolan knew full well his actions bordered on foolhardy, so he’d planned to prioritize negotiation— after all, they were just following orders.

But the sudden twist before him made it clear: Gareth had struck first.

Seeing the other sailor about to raise the alarm, the boy lunged forward in a crouch, snapping the blocking staff clean in two with raw force!

His momentum unchecked, the fist slammed into the man’s jaw with a teeth-grating crack of bone.

The sailor rolled his eyes back and collapsed unconscious.

Nolan held his punching pose, staring blankly at his hovering fist before a light, teasing voice drifted from behind— Gareth’s, laced with amusement.

“Oh? Didn’t expect you to be the type who tries talking first before swinging, huh? The decent sort.”