After Neftis left, Simon had to endure the busiest week of his life.
Even his usually laid-back father, Richard, was acting like a man possessed.
His sharp gaze and decisive actions left no room for childish complaints like, "Do I really have to go to Kizen?" Richard cast a spell on Simon's body, calling it the process of creating a "Core."
Simon didn’t understand much about it, but it was excruciatingly painful.
After three days and nights of non-stop work, the Core was finally complete, and Simon boarded a carriage with Richard.
The carriage was unusually large and luxurious, far beyond what their small territory could afford.
Simon was amazed by the comfort of the cushions, something he had never experienced before.
"Stay safe, Simon," Anna said, tears welling up in her eyes as she waved goodbye, having packed two weeks' worth of food for the journey.
"If it gets too much, come back to Leshill anytime."
Richard, known for his temper, scolded her for saying such things to their son, who was about to take his first steps into the world.
Simon, who had never seen his parents argue before, realized that his life was truly about to change.
"Let’s go," the coachman said, pulling the reins as the carriage wheels began to turn.
And so, Simon, who had spent his entire life in Leshill, embarked on his adventure.
Of course, it wasn’t a comfortable journey.
Inside the carriage, Richard began teaching Simon the basics of dark magic.
"Breathe," Richard instructed, referring to the breathing technique he had taught Simon earlier.
Simon took a deep breath, drawing the ambient mana into his body.
He had practiced this countless times, so it wasn’t difficult.
"Now, slowly move the mana inside you and pass it through your Core," Richard said, placing his hand on Simon’s chest to guide him.
Simon carefully guided the flowing mana through the Core beneath his heart.
Something felt different—the once loose and formless mana now felt more viscous and solid.
"Now, guide the mana to flow through your arm. Yes, just like that. Release it from your hand."
As if a blockage had been cleared, a black liquid seeped out of Simon’s palm like sweat.
Simon blinked, staring at his hand, while Richard smiled proudly.
"Well done, Simon. This is the source of a Necromancer’s power—'Obsidian.'"
According to Richard, there was a time when knights and mages ruled the continent.
But now, they were overshadowed by Necromancers.
Knights couldn’t match the sheer numbers of Necromancers, and mages were outclassed in casting speed and destructive power.
"The biggest difference between mages and Necromancers is the presence of 'Obsidian,'" Richard explained, extending his left hand.
A blue mist of mana rose from his palm like a mirage.
"Mana has the properties of a gas. It’s low in density, hard to bind, and tends to scatter in the air."
Then he extended his right hand, and a viscous black liquid welled up like a spring, flowing down his palm.
"On the other hand, 'Obsidian' has properties closer to a solid or liquid. It’s made of dense mana, easy to bind, and can freely change its form."
The black liquid on his palm suddenly surged upward, morphing into a flower, a wave, a snake flicking its tongue, and even a spinning windmill.
"Wow...!" Simon gasped in awe as the Obsidian shifted into the shape of a magic circle.
The black circle, constructed of countless runes, began to leak a red light, as if a bomb were about to explode.
A chilling sensation ran down Simon’s spine, and every hair on his body stood on end.
Something big was about to happen...!
Crack! Richard clenched his fist, and the magic circle shattered.
The ashes that fell to the ground slowly disappeared.
"Those who wield power based on this Obsidian are what we call Necromancers," Richard said.
Simon nodded, mesmerized.
"We don’t have much time, so I can’t teach you much. Focus on practicing the basics of drawing out Obsidian from your Core for the remaining time."
"Yes, Father!" Simon replied enthusiastically.
Practicing the creation of Obsidian was more fun than Simon had expected.
At first, it was just a drop forming on his palm, but as time passed, the size grew, and the shape changed.
Seeing clear progress, Simon lost track of time, immersing himself in the practice.
Richard, though satisfied with his son’s rapid progress, made sure not to push him too hard.
'...
This is monstrous progress,' Richard thought, though he didn’t show it.
In just three days, Simon had gone from simple release to shape manipulation.
This was far from normal.
Considering that it usually took half a year to two years for an average talent to achieve shape manipulation, Simon was truly a boy born for Obsidian.
Even as his father, Richard couldn’t help but feel chills at times.
In truth, Richard had always known about Simon’s talent.
He had waited for the right time to create the Core.
Talent that explodes before one’s sense of self and emotions are established is poison.
Richard deeply regretted his own tyrannical behavior in his youth and didn’t want to pass that mistake on to his son.
But now, finally, it was Simon’s time to bloom.
The entire continent would be shocked by his emergence.
Just imagining it sent shivers down Richard’s spine, making it hard to sit still.
"Father! Look!" Simon raised his palm, where Obsidian flickered like flames.
Richard looked at it with a serious expression.
"Indigo. A beautiful Obsidian with a hint of blue."
"Is... is that good? Is it rare? Does it mean I’m talented?" "It just looks cool." "..."
Simon pouted and resumed his practice, while Richard turned his head, barely suppressing a smile. 'Managing expressions is harder than I thought.'
Time flew by quickly.
For Simon, it felt like no time had passed at all, but a week had gone by.
And then, "This is as far as I can go with you, Simon," Richard suddenly announced.
Simon felt his heart drop.
"I thought you were taking me all the way to Kizen."
"I’m sorry, but I can’t set foot in the Dresdene Kingdom. From here on, you’ll have to make all the decisions and move on your own."
A heavy pressure suddenly weighed on Simon, and he swallowed hard.
Having lived in Leshill for 17 years, it was impossible not to feel fear at such a sudden change.
But then Richard grabbed Simon’s hand tightly.
"I promise you, son. You’ll do better than anyone. And," Richard smiled warmly, "I’m truly proud of you."
Hearing his father’s acknowledgment for the first time, Simon felt a lump in his throat.
"I’ll be back, Father."
After parting ways with Richard, Simon spent the rest of the journey alone in the spacious carriage, focusing on honing his Obsidian skills.
Another week passed, and finally, "Wow...!" Simon arrived at the capital of the Dresdene Kingdom, 'Langastin.' Overwhelmed by the sight of the big city, Simon was in awe.
The towering buildings, the chaotic carriages crossing the roads, and the bustling crowds were all new to him.
His head spun at the unfamiliar sights.
"Move! Move!" Simon jumped back in surprise as a massive carriage, pulled by a skeletal horse, barreled down a steep slope. 'Undead!' Undead creatures were openly roaming the city, pulling carriages, rickshaws, and even handing out flyers in the square.
It was a sight only possible in an era dominated by Necromancers.
'Stay sharp,' Simon thought, lightly slapping his cheeks before pulling out a crumpled note from his pocket. <239 Camellord, Langastin SL1E 6AJ.> <Guide waiting.> 'So I just need to find this address?' Simon steeled himself.
Whether it was Langastin or Leshill, it was still a place where people lived.
If he could find the guide waiting at this address, everything would be fine.
But the information alone didn’t give him much to go on.
Eventually, Simon approached a woman with voluminous blonde hair standing with her back to him.
"Excuse me, ma’am, may I ask you something?" When the woman turned around, Simon was startled.
One of her eyes was bulging and dangling loosely.
"What is it, dear?" "..." 'Don’t be rude.
Don’t be rude.' Simon forced a smile, trying to calm his racing heart.
"I’m trying to get to this address written on this paper..."
"An address? Let me see."
The dangling eye stretched out to scan the paper, and Simon broke out in a cold sweat.
Thankfully, he bit his lip hard to keep from making a sound.
"Ah, Camellord? It’s a famous spot in Langastin. Go around the square up there and turn right. You’ll see an alley with golden tiles."
"Ah...! Thank you so much!" Simon bowed deeply.
The woman fanned herself and chuckled.
"Such a polite young man. I hope you find luck in Langastin."
Things seemed to be going well! After thanking her again, Simon headed toward the square she had mentioned. '...' And a short while later, a man who had been quietly observing the scene approached the same woman.
'Finally, I’ve reached Camellord.' Why was this city so complicated? After wandering for 20 minutes, Simon finally entered Camellord.
The tiles on the ground were indeed golden, just as the woman had said. '239, 239...' Simon checked the addresses on the buildings as he walked, holding the note in his hand.
"Excuse me," someone suddenly appeared in front of him.
It was a bald man with beads of sweat on his forehead.
He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and spoke politely.
"Are you heading to 239 Camellord, specifically SL1E 6AJ?" Simon’s eyes widened.
How did he know the exact details of the address? "Ah! Are you the guide sent by Mr. Howl...?" The man nodded.
"Yes, I’m Mr. Howl’s guide! I was worried you might have gotten lost, so I’ve been looking for you."
Relieved, Simon replied, "Finally, we’ve met. I’m Simon Polentia."
"I’m Rauli, a guide in Langastin. Come this way. You must be tired, so let me take you to your lodgings first."
Simon nodded and followed him.
"It’ll take about 15 minutes. I’ll take the shortest route to get you there quickly."
"Alright!"
As they left Camellord and walked through winding alleys, Simon looked around in wonder.
Everywhere he looked, there were houses.
The city was so densely packed that there was almost no wasted space.
The population here seemed several times larger than the entire Leshill territory.
"I was really worried, sir. It’s dangerous for outsiders to wander around Langastin without a guide," Rauli chattered on.
"They say you can get robbed in broad daylight. The city is full of pickpockets, thieves, and unscrupulous merchants. Once we get to the lodgings, I’ll teach you a few phrases in the Langastin dialect. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing."
"Ah," Simon smiled.
"So you’re planning to rob me too, huh?" "...!!" Rauli stopped in his tracks.
"S-sir? What are you talking about...?" "You keep glancing downward," Simon said, pointing his finger.
"You’ve even reached into your vest pocket once to check something. Judging by the shape and creases, it looks like you have a knife or something in there." "..."
Rauli broke out in a cold sweat as he turned to look at Simon.
"That’s... yes. You’re right." Click. He admitted it openly, showing the handle of the knife in his vest pocket.
"I told you, Langastin is a dangerous place. You never know who you might run into in these narrow alleys..."
"And by the way, that Mr. Howl you mentioned earlier? I made him up," Simon said with a grin, resting his arm on the back of his head.
"You immediately fell for it when I said I was Mr. Howl’s guide. Howl is actually the name of a goat that Johnson in Leshill is fond of. Are you running errands for a goat now?" "..."
The friendly smile on Rauli’s face stiffened.
"S-so you knew all along and still followed me? What the hell are you, kid?!"