The forest beyond the borders of Oakhaven was no longer just a place to gather firewood or hunt small game. The moment Rian stepped past the curtain of thick mist, the world transformed into a merciless, wild jungle. Days turned into weeks, and the long journey toward the royal capital was tested through thousands of steps across muddy ground, the roots of ancient trees snaking out like monster fingers, and weather that swung violently between freezing ice storms and toxic morning dew.

For a ten-year-old child, this journey would have been a living hell. Yet, for Rian—who carried the soul of an elite mercenary—this was the ultimate, natural training ground.

During his weeks deep within the forest, Rian relied on high-tier survival instincts. He consumed wild berries tested for poison using mana circulation, caught woodland rabbits with silent traps, and slept high in tree branches to evade packs of nocturnal monsters. Every day, his body was hammered by physical exhaustion, while his mind continuously sharpened its sensory awareness against every shift in surrounding energy vibrations.

Yet, the wild was not the only threat along the trade route to the capital.

Humans were often far more dangerous than wild beasts.

One night, during the third week of his journey, the sky above the forest canopy was tightly blanketed by dark clouds. Rian had lit a small campfire inside a hidden rock alcove to warm himself and cook the remnants of his hunted game. The flickering orange-red firelight illuminated a portion of the stone wall, casting Rian’s dancing shadow against the ground.

He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, his internal mana circulation spinning steadily to recover his energy after a long day of trekking.

Rustle...

The faintest sound of a snapping twig echoed from the dense bushes roughly ten meters from where he sat.

To an ordinary person, that sound might have been dismissed as the night wind or a small animal. But to Rian, the sound carried a distinct frequency and weight—it was the footfall of a human moving with deliberate caution.

Rian did not snap his eyes open. His breathing remained steady, but every muscle in his body instantly locked into full combat readiness.

"Hey, look over there, mate. A kid roasting meat all alone out here in the middle of nowhere," a low, raspy voice whispered from the dark embrace of the brush.

"A kid? Damn, do you think he got separated from a merchant caravan passing through yesterday? Sweet—we can take his supplies or sell him off as a young slave in the border town," replied a second voice, heavier and much harsher.

Three burly men, clad in filthy animal skins and wielding machetes and rusted daggers, slowly emerged from the gloom. They were professional road bandits who routinely preyed on careless travelers. A dirty, smug grin stretched across their lips when they saw Rian sitting entirely by himself without adult protection.

"Little lord, you're awfully lucky tonight to run into such kind uncles," the bandit leader said as he stepped closer, gesturing with his machete toward the campfire. "Hand over all the food and valuables in your pack, and we'll let you keep breathing."

Rian slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was glacial, completely devoid of fear or panic—an unnatural reaction that instantly made the bandit leader narrow his eyes in suspicion.

"Hey, deaf brat! Didn't you hear—"

Before the bandit could finish his sentence, Rian sprang upward with astonishing speed.

Whoosh!

There was no warning shout. No negotiation. In the world of mercenaries, a distracted enemy was a walking corpse. Rian used the flickering shadows of the campfire as his medium of movement. Utilizing the basic Shadow Step technique he had learned from the forbidden grimoire, his small frame darted through the dark like a phantom freed from physical bounds.

"Damn it! He's fast!" the second bandit cried out in panic, raising his dagger to slash forward.

Yet, Rian’s movements far outstripped their crude reflexes. With the agility of a cold-blooded assassin, Rian dropped low, ducking beneath the dagger slash and gliding right under the bandit's guard. His small hand, coated in a shimmer of purplish shadow mana, drove straight upward.

THWACK!

The mana-infused wooden carving knife pierced the soft spot beneath the second bandit's jaw with millimeter precision. Fresh blood spurted out, splattering the dry leaves on the forest floor. The bandit didn't even have time to scream before collapsing into the dirt, killed instantly in a single fatal strike.

"Bastard! Kill that brat!" the bandit leader screamed, his face turning pale with sudden, horrifying dread at the sight of his subordinate dying in less than two seconds.

The third bandit raised a heavy axe and swung it with all his might toward Rian’s head. The air shrieked under the force of the arc.

Rian did not attempt to parry the brutal blow head-on. He sidestepped with hyper-efficient footwork, letting the axe cleave empty air and slam into the stony ground, throwing off a flurry of sparks.

Before the third bandit could pull his weapon back, Rian leaped onto the massive man's shoulders. With a trained flick of his hand, he struck a pressure point on the bandit's neck using a sharp burst of mana, cutting off the man's consciousness instantly before driving his blade straight into his left chest.

In less than ten seconds, two of the three bandits were dead, while the remaining one was sprawled out unconscious.

The area around the campfire grew quiet once more, save for the crackling of wood and Rian's measured breathing. The surviving bandit leader—now the only one standing—trembled so violently his knees gave out. He dropped his machete to the dirt, staring at Rian with eyes blown wide in pure terror, as though facing a little demon crawled straight out of hell.

"Y-You... you're not a kid... You're a monster..." the bandit leader whispered in a choked gasp, backing away slowly until his spine slammed hard against a tree trunk.

Rian walked forward unhurriedly. Without wasting words, he swept his blade to eliminate the threat, ending the struggle in the quiet of the night.

Once the forest settled back into stillness, Rian crouched beside the dead leader's body to scavenge for extra supplies. His hand reached into the bloodstained pocket of the leader's thick coat.

Deep inside the pocket, Rian's fingers brushed against a hard, cold metal object. He pulled it out from the folds of dirty fabric.

Beneath the dying glow of the campfire, Rian stared at what he had just found.

It was a small badge of blackened silver, circular in shape, featuring an embossed emblem of a broken chain link right in the center—the exact same symbol, line for line, as the mysterious engraving stamped onto the blank final page of the forbidden magic grimoire he had uncovered in his attic years ago.

Rian narrowed his eyes, staring at the emblem with a profound, questioning gaze.

This symbol... why is it on a common road bandit deep in a remote forest? What kind of network is secretly linking this underworld to the secrets of forbidden magic?