Another six months passed.

  Soon Drake would turn eighteen.

  During this time he finally mastered the basics of magic. Simple spells now came to him effortlessly, but further progress was difficult — too much depended on his own nature.

  Moraena closed the book and sighed wearily.

  “Your case is unique…” she said quietly. “From now on you’ll have to experiment with spell weaves yourself.”

  She looked away.

  There was a slight sadness in her voice. Moraena had always been a strict teacher, but now it pained her to realize that she could hardly help her student any further. Now he would literally have to create his own spells from scratch.

  Drake smiled softly.

  He took her hand and gently kissed it.

  “You’ve already taught me everything,” he said. “I’ll figure out the rest myself.”

  Moraena felt warm pride spreading through her chest.

  But along with it grew another feeling.

  Fear.

  Stronger with each passing day.

  “Alright…” Drake said, standing up. “I’m going hunting.”

  Moraena nodded and slowly headed to her room.

  “I’ll be back soon, my love.”

  The tips of her ears instantly turned red.

  “Fool…” she muttered. “I’ll wait.”

  Drake only smiled enthusiastically.

  ?

  The forest greeted him with a gentle breeze, the scent of herbs and warm sunlight.

  No human foot had trodden here for a long time. Everything around lived in calm harmony.

  A complex spell had been pced on the forest. Any random traveler saw only scorched, dead nd full of fog and cracks. No one dared go further.

  But inside the forest remained alive.

  Drake moved quietly between the trees.

  His movements were light and silent.

  Suddenly he spotted a roe deer.

  A moment.

  A leap.

  He sprang forward and deftly snapped its neck.

  His physical strength had become abnormal.

  Drake hardly ever tired, even training day and night. He could break stones with his bare hands.

  This was the blood.

  The higher blood of an incubus.

  Over time he learned to feed on the mana flows that constantly streamed through the world around him. It provided sustenance… but no pleasure.

  He had long noticed one strange thing.

  When an animal died in his hands, he felt a surge of energy.

  Purer mana.

  And if he did it slowly…

  Drake sighed heavily.

  If he ever needed great power… Or recovery in a critical situation…

  He would have to become a monster.

  He had no illusions.

  He was ready to do anything to protect Moraena and achieve his main goal.

  At that moment his thoughts were interrupted by a sound.

  The sound of steel.

  Cries.

  A battle.

  Drake’s heart pounded wildly.

  He hadn’t heard this in a long time.

  His body moved toward the sounds on its own.

  ?

  On the forest road stood a carriage.

  On its sides was depicted the symbol of the goddess of fertility Gina — one of the most revered goddesses of the kingdoms of Domiana and Valtera.

  A battle raged around the carriage.

  “Protect the saint candidate!”

  Knights with the branch emblem on their armor fought against men in bck robes.

  Their enemies moved very skillfully.

  Quickly.

  Coldly.

  Most of the escort already y on the ground.

  Only three knights remained standing.

  And the girl.

  ?

  Before Drake stood a young nun.

  Her white robe fell neatly along her body.

  The hood of her habit framed her face, from under it escaped short silver-white hair, lying in soft strands on her cheeks.

  Her eyes…

  Soft purple.

  Calm.

  A little shy.

  But now they held fear and disbelief.

  Despite the strict monastic robe, her figure clearly did not match the image of modesty.

  The white fabric only emphasized her forms.

  Her breasts were too full and heavy, the cloth stretched to the limit, forming a deep cleavage.

  Her waist remained surprisingly narrow.

  And below — wide, soft hips, creating a smooth silhouette.

  She seemed fragile.

  Quiet.

  And at the same time strangely drew the eye.

  Around her seemed to hover a special aura — pure and innocent, but with a barely perceptible, hidden power.

  Drake froze for a moment.

  But then he snapped back to reality.

  He stepped forward.

  And headed toward the battle.

  ?

  Drake burst into the fight like a storm.

  A powerful strike.

  One of the assassins in a bck robe didn’t even have time to understand what happened.

  The body crashed into a tree with a sickening crack, bark flew in splinters, and the man slid lifelessly to the ground.

  For a second silence hung over the clearing.

  The reaction to the new participant was different.

  The assassins instantly tensed.

  The head knight exhaled heavily and gripped his sword tighter.

  And the girl by the carriage…

  The saint.

  She pressed herself hard against the carriage door, as if trying to become smaller.

  Drake took a step forward.

  Inside him energy surged.

  He felt it again.

  That same rush.

  Mana.

  Power.

  And… pleasure.

  But suddenly the flow cut off.

  His opponent was dead.

  Drake clicked his tongue irritably.

  “Tch. Weaklings.”

  His voice sounded soft, almost beautiful.

  But it carried cold indifference.

  And something much darker.

  One of the assassins tried to retreat, keeping distance.

  Crunch.

  Drake was beside him before the man could blink.

  His hand jerked.

  The enemy’s neck snapped with a dry crack.

  The body went limp.

  Another wave of mana poured into Drake.

  Warm.

  Intoxicating.

  His mood noticeably improved.

  He smiled.

  And from that smile everyone on the clearing involuntarily shuddered.

  “Praise Gina… he’s on our side,” one of the knights whispered quietly.

  The old knight, parrying another blow, said shortly:

  “Don’t rex.”

  Steel cshed against steel.

  “While he’s on our side.”

  He sharply pushed the opponent away.

  “What happens next is unknown.”

  Meanwhile Drake moved among the enemies zily.

  As if it were a game.

  Another strike.

  Another.

  In a few moments five more assassins y on the ground.

  The sixth was less fortunate.

  Drake broke both his legs.

  The crunch of bones rang out especially loudly.

  The man colpsed to the ground and screamed.

  Bones protruded through the skin.

  His cries filled the forest.

  Drake slowly approached and crouched beside him.

  “Who are you?”

  His voice sounded soft.

  Almost tenderly.

  “And why did you attack?”

  He extended his hand.

  Mana gently flowed into the prisoner’s body.

  The bones began to knit.

  But in the same twisted position.

  The man screamed.

  “I… I won’t say anything…”

  Drake sighed.

  And began pouring more mana.

  “GYAAAAA!!”

  The scream was inhuman.

  It echoed through the entire forest.

  From the side it looked cruel.

  Even inhuman.

  But Drake did not hesitate.

  That was how Kane had taught him.

  And those five years of war had not passed without trace.

  You cannot be soft with enemies.

  At some point he stopped.

  And calmly asked:

  “Shall I continue?”

  The prisoner trembled.

  Tears streamed down his face.

  “N-no! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell everything!”

  He sobbed like a child.

  “We were sent from Valtera and—”

  Suddenly his body jerked.

  Blood poured from his mouth.

  His eyes gzed over.

  He died.

  Drake quietly clicked his tongue.

  “As expected.”

  He passed his hand through the air.

  Around the body, for a second, remnants of magic fred.

  A spell of witness elimination.

  “What a complex weave…”

  Drake carefully memorized the structure of the magic before it completely vanished.

  The spell self-destructed.

  He rose.

  And slowly turned to the remaining people.

  “Well then.”

  He calmly surveyed the knights.

  “With these it’s clear.”

  Only now did he notice that all three knights had turned their bdes toward him.

  And were ready to die.

  Drake slightly tilted his head.

  And calmly asked:

  “And you… who are you?”

  The wind quietly passed over the clearing.

  And behind the knights stood the girl in white robes.

  And her violet eyes looked at Drake with clear fear.