A magician—an eighth-level grand magician, no less. A young girl who looked barely eighteen, with a shy, nervous demeanor, as if she were a sheltered noblewoman stepping into the world for the first time.
Most strikingly, she was a stammerer.
The surrounding crowd couldn't help but widen their eyes, staring at this flushed-faced girl whose large, pitiful eyes brimmed with tears. Almost instinctively, they lowered their swords.
This girl didn't seem threatening at all.
Even Du Wei froze for a moment. Could this stammering, timid girl, who looked as skittish as a rabbit, truly be an eighth-level magician?
Yet the robe she wore and the badge pinned to her chest were unmistakable. Du Wei knew the badges issued by the Magic Union carried anti-forgery enchantments—there was no faking that.
Clearing his throat, Du Wei loosened his grip on the Terror Illusion Goblin he held by a finger and glanced at the trembling girl. "Honored Mage, are you saying this little creature belongs to you?"
"Y-Yes… n-no, no~~ not quite." The girl burst into tears right there, under everyone's gaze. "I-It's m-my t-t-teacher's. C-Could you p-please g-give it b-back…"
Give it back?
Du Wei had no intention of returning it so easily.
Why should he? This little beast had toyed with his group, leaving them battered and humiliated. Du Wei was half-tempted to slit its throat and harvest its horn, as Solskjaer had suggested.
But now, the creature's apparent owner—a grand magician—had shown up. Could he really refuse to return it without losing face?
And if he tried to weasel out of it… well, she was an eighth-level magician!
Even if she looked about as dangerous as a frightened kitten.
"Honored Mage, please… please don't be hasty," Du Wei said, tempering his voice with a gentle tone, almost as if coaxing a child. "If this creature truly belongs to you…"
"Of c-c-course it does!" The girl's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. She wiped her tears fiercely, gazing at Du Wei with wide, innocent eyes so pure and pleading that it was hard to stay stern with such a delicate, pitiful creature.
"No need to rush," Du Wei said calmly. "Even if it is yours, as its keeper, don't you think you bear some responsibility for the trouble it's caused?"
The girl's face paled with panic, and she stole a timid glance at Du Wei. "P-Please, s-s-sir…"
"This creature—it's a high-level magical beast, isn't it?" Du Wei's voice grew firm. "As its keeper, you failed to restrain it, letting it roam free into the heart of the Empire's southern lands! Are you unaware of the chaos a magical beast can unleash in a populated area?"
Beside him, Solskjaer bit back a grin as he watched his young master lecture an eighth-level magician with such righteous authority.
An eighth-level magician!
Solskjaer's eyes lingered on the gold badge pinned to her chest, and he swallowed hard. For a low-level mage like him, earning such a badge was the dream of a lifetime.
"I-I… th-th-this…" The girl's face flushed with guilt, her head bowing low. "M-My t-teacher w-went far away. I-I was s-supposed to w-watch Ch-Cheche, b-but it r-ran off wh-when my s-sister v-visited… I-I've b-been searching f-for d-days."
"Your negligence is no excuse for the havoc it's caused," Du Wei declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "Do you realize the panic this beast brought to this quiet town? These brave soldiers risked their lives tracking it into these mountains to protect the people! And do you know the harm your little pet inflicted on them?"
The girl fell silent, her guilt-ridden eyes pleading with Du Wei.
He pressed his advantage, sensing her inexperience. This girl, he thought, was likely a sheltered flower, unused to the ways of the world—easy to sway.
"This creature caused chaos! Our soldiers bled and sweated to capture it, all to safeguard this land. And now you expect to simply take it back? Don't you feel even a shred of remorse?"
By now, the girl's head hung so low it nearly touched her chest.
When Du Wei paused, she mustered her courage, her voice barely a whisper. "I-I-I'm w-willing to a-apologize f-for its actions… I-I'm s-s-sorry…"
"Keep your apologies!" Du Wei cut her off, unrelenting. "If apologies could undo harm, what need would we have for justice?"
"Justice… wh-what's that?"
Du Wei coughed, covering a moment of embarrassment. He'd slipped, using a term from his old world—this one had no concept of "police."
"What I mean," he said, puffing out his chest, "is that a mere 'sorry' cannot erase the blood and sweat of our brave soldiers!"
In truth, he was stretching things a bit. The search party hadn't shed much blood. The earlier carnage had been an illusion, dispelled without real injury. At worst, they'd been knocked out and might suffer a few nightmares. Hardly a great loss.
The only true casualty was Rolynn, the female knight.
Du Wei wasn't about to let this opportunity slip. He stepped aside, revealing Rolynn, supported by her comrades. Her face was pale from blood loss, her hand wrapped in white bandages, her hair disheveled. She looked frail, and the sight deepened the girl's guilt.
"C-C-Can I c-compensate you s-somehow?" The girl's eyes welled up again.
Du Wei sighed, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He glanced at Solskjaer, who, after days of studying alchemy together, caught his master's intent. Stepping forward, Solskjaer bowed slightly. "Honored Grand Mage."
The girl, noting his mage's robe, returned a polite bow. "M-Mage S-Sir."
Solskjaer's cheeks flushed. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined an eighth-level grand mage addressing him so respectfully.
"Your pet has caused significant harm," Solskjaer said smoothly. "Simply letting it go would leave these wronged soldiers dissatisfied. Moreover, my master, the esteemed heir of the Rowling House, young lord Du Wei, son of Earl Raymond, was deeply shaken by this ordeal. Surely, some recompense is in order."
"N-N-No… if m-my t-teacher c-comes back and s-sees Ch-Cheche h-hurt, sh-she'll p-punish me…" Sweat beaded on the girl's forehead. "A-And if sh-she's angry, y-you'll all…"
"Honored Grand Mage, might I ask who your teacher is?" Solskjaer probed gently. "I can scarcely imagine a mage in the Empire capable of mentoring a grand mage such as yourself."
The girl hesitated, her face troubled. "I-I c-can't s-say."
Solskjaer frowned briefly but pressed on with a smile. "Then, at least share your name, if you would?"
"Oh…" The girl relaxed, this question easier to answer. "I-I'm V-Vivian Y-Yang. E-Eighth-level m-mage of the M-Magic Union." Remembering her manners, she blushed and bowed again. "M-May I h-have y-your name, h-honored m-mage s-sir?"
Solskjaer's face reddened further. "I… Solskjaer, Magic Union… um, first-level mage."
His voice dropped to a mumble at the end, half-wishing he could vanish. A first-level mage was little more than an ant to someone of her rank. Many grand mages had apprentices far above his level.
Yet Vivian, with her innocent sincerity, bowed again, observing proper etiquette. Solskjaer's heart warmed at her kindness.
"Now, please show us your sincerity in making amends," Du Wei interjected smoothly.
"W-Well…" Vivian faltered, then rummaged in her robe, pulling out a small pouch. "I-I h-have this w-water sapphire. I-It's o-only m-mid-grade, b-but…"
Her stammer worsened as she held out a fist-sized, shimmering water sapphire, her pleading eyes fixed on Du Wei.
A water sapphire?
Solskjaer's breath caught. This was a prized material for water magic—perfect for crafting scrolls or storing spells. In the hands of a skilled alchemist, it could be forged into a staff, reducing a water mage's mana cost by a third and speeding their casting.
This gem, flawless and mid-grade at least, was worth thousands of gold coins. A water mage would pay far more to possess it.
Solskjaer opened his mouth to speak, but Du Wei's hand clamped onto his shoulder. His master's face remained impassive, even disapproving, as he squinted at Vivian. "Oh? Just this water sapphire?"
Vivian's cheeks burned, guilt gnawing at her. Though mid-grade, the sapphire was useless to her—she wasn't a water mage. Offering something she didn't need felt dishonest, and she silently prayed for forgiveness.
Quickly, she dug into her pouch again, producing a small, emerald-green item that shimmered like flowing water. "A-And th-this…"
Solskjaer's eyes nearly popped out.
"G-Green m-mana elixir!" he stammered, as if catching her speech quirk.
Du Wei raised an eyebrow. Well-versed in arcane lore, he knew the value of green mana elixir—a coveted treasure that could instantly restore a mage's depleted mana. The pouch Vivian held looked large enough for seven or eight vials.
Crafting such elixirs was arduous, requiring rare ingredients, and they were consumable—each use diminished the supply. Solskjaer's throat went dry at the thought.
Yet Du Wei's expression remained sour, his brow furrowed. "Is that all? Is this the worth of our soldiers' blood and sweat?"
Tears swirled in Vivian's wide eyes. She tugged at her hair, then pulled out a small yellow orb, offering it timidly. "Th-This… a f-fire-repelling b-bead I m-made."
Du Wei pressed further. "And what of my knight's injuries?"
Vivian produced a handful of colorful beast cores—over a dozen low- and mid-grade magical nuclei, each surrendered under Du Wei's relentless demands.
"And the fright I endured?" Du Wei seemed to transform into a heartless extortionist.
Vivian emptied her satchel, offering her final treasures: seven or eight magic scrolls. Solskjaer nearly fainted when he saw them—mid-level spell scrolls, not mere beginner charms. Such a collection could spark a duel between mages.
Seeing Du Wei still unmoved, even Solskjaer's conscience twinged. The "compensation" Vivian had offered could buy a city.
As Vivian sobbed, her satchel now empty—"I-I-I o-only b-brought th-this"—Solskjaer, Knight Robert, and the Rowling retainers sighed. Her tearful, pitiful state stirred guilt in their hearts.
But their young master, insatiable as ever, showed no sign of relenting. His appetite, they thought, was truly monstrous.