Chapter 55: Interdiate Spearmanship
Raven rose with calm, deliberate movents.
“What if I can pay the debt with interest right now, My Lord?”
A hush rippled through the chamber.
Count Andres leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
“Oh? That would be entertaining. But you’re not in a dream, are you?”
“Of course not.” Raven pulled out the debt docunt he’d obtained from Lady Anastasia and handed it to the nearest servant. The servant delivered it to Count Andres’s desk.
“When I visited the capital last month,” Raven said, “I had the opportunity to beco acquainted with Lady Anastasia Ravenshield.”
Count Andres unrolled the parchnt. His eyes landed on the seal—the rune-engraved sigil shimring faintly with arcane energy.
“This seal is genuine.”
A rare tremor touched his voice.
Raven’s lips curled upward.
“Lady Anastasia lent one hundred twenty thousand gold coins under her family’s na, with four percent interest.”
With a wave of his hand, four large leather bags appeared on the floor beside him.
“Each contains two hundred fifty platinum coins,” Raven said. Then he summoned a smaller bag. “And this contains one hundred forty platinum coins.”
He bowed his head slightly.
“I apologize for the delay in settling my father’s debt, My Lord. I was kidnapped by thugs and lost my mories. If the Council hadn’t summoned , I wouldn’t have known the debt existed.”
The chamber fell silent—eerily, utterly silent.
Viscountess Rowena broke it with a soft, dangerous laugh.
“What an unexpected turn of events.”
Raven then produced a wooden box from his spatial ring and handed it to the servant.
“Please give this to Lord Count. My teacher made a promise to him.”
“Promise?” Count Andres frowned for a mont.
Then mory struck him like lightning.
Two months ago—a coffin-shaped chest of gold left in his study.
A letter he’d tossed into the bin, calling the sender arrogant.
A ssage about gifting five ‘Potion of Insight’ vials—the inferior form of the Legendary Elixir of Insight.
Raven nodded, voice turning cool.
“My teacher said he would send you five Mind of Insight potions once you helped rescue . I hope you accept his gratitude, My Lord.”
Baron Ronald suddenly leaned forward.
“Mind of Insight? That potion has caused a sensation in the capital! Isn’t that the new potion created by the Ravenshields? A lower version of the Elixir—but powerful for mortals and Rank-1 Walkers!”
Count Andres slowly opened the wooden box.
Five crystalline vials glimred with bluish liquid.
A bead of sweat slid down his forehead.
So the man who sneaked into my study was a Ravenshield Wizard…?
And this boy is his student? Damn it.
Suddenly, Richard Palr lurched to his feet.
“The docunt must be forged, My Lord! There’s no way this brat is—!”
“SILENCE.”
Count Andres’s glare cut like a blade.
Richard froze.
Count Andres looked back at Raven, expression turning grim yet respectful.
Thank the Oracle Lore… If I had offended a Ravenshield envoy—I'd be dead.
He straightened.
“I think it’s clear that the Hols Family has repaid the debt. This case is closed.”
So Knight Households looked ready to object, but the Count didn’t so much as glance at them.
“Byrce,” Count Andres said, “collect the gold and deliver it to Crest rchandise after verifying the amount.”
“Wait.”
Viscountess Rowena raised her voice, drawing every eye in the room.
“Walter Hols died two years ago. Why has the Will not yet been passed to the rightful heir?”
A young man with black hair—George All—stood hesitantly.
“That is because the heir was not in proper condition, My Lady. After his father’s death, he shut himself inside his mansion… and before we could address the Will transfer, he was kidnapped—”
Viscountess Rowena’s eyes narrowed.
“George All, correct? You’ve been managing two of the Hols stores. Why didn’t you ntion his kidnapping in the last eting? Are you even one of the Executors? Walter would never have imagined his friends would gamble with his son’s life.”
“Rowena, watch your words,” Count Andres warned softly—but even he looked uneasy. He knew he’d ignored the issue too. Guilt flickered behind his mask of authority.
He turned toward George All and a red-haired woman—Sara Wills.
“George All. Sara Wills. When this eting ends, go to the Administration Departnt and transfer the Will to Thomas Hols imdiately. If I hear you delaying this again, I will personally intervene.”
“Y-Yes, My Lord.”
Both bowed deeply.
“Byrce! Retrieve the bags from Thomas.”
The blonde butler hurried to Raven and began counting the coins.
Once done, Count Andres closed the final docunt.
“Now that the last case is resolved… the Spade Council eting is adjourned.”
Richard Palr shot out of his seat again.
“This isn’t over, My Lord! We still need to discuss revoking the Hols Family’s—”
Baron Gideon cut him off sharply.
“And why should we revoke the mbership of a Knight Household with ties to one of the Twelve Ancient Families?”
Richard paled.
Count Andres stood.
“There is nothing left to discuss about the Hols Family.”
His tone brooked no resistance.
Murmurs broke out across the chamber—shock, speculation, fear, curiosity.
One by one, nobles rose and exited, starting with the elite mbers.
Raven calmly stood as well, adjusting his monocle before leaving the chamber.
Outside, Emanuel hurried toward him.
“My Lord?”
“Go with the Count’s butler,” Raven said. “Confirm the debt transfer. Selene, accompany him.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Jacob approached. “What about the Will transfer?”
“It’s already five in the evening. They’ll send soone tomorrow,” Raven replied. Then he gestured to the exit. “Let’s return.”
Emanuel and Selene entered the chamber with Byrce, while Raven, Jacob, and Quincy walked back down the opulent corridor.
The sun dipped low outside Havan Manor, bathing the cobblestone street in gold. Their carriage awaited, horses stamping impatiently.
Raven stepped in, and as the wheels began turning, he let the noise of the city fade behind him.
The storm had passed.
But the winds of politics had only just begun shifting in his favor.
The carriage rattled through the fading light and stopped before the Hols Mansion fifteen minutes later. Raven stepped out, dusting his coat, but before he could take another step, Stephaine rushed forward with an anxious face.
“What happened?” Raven asked.
“An officer from the Royal Bank is here to et you, My Lord,” she said, glancing nervously toward the main hall.
Raven followed her line of sight.
A young red-haired man—no older than his twenties—sat comfortably on the central sofa, casually flipping through a newspaper. When Raven approached, the man folded the paper with practiced ease and rose.
“I’m Pablo,” he said politely, bowing slightly. “Manager of the Royal Bank of Zenith. I am here under my superior’s orders to deliver certain items.”
He touched his spatial ring; a wooden box appeared on the coffee table. Then he pulled out a golden card engraved with shimring runes and placed it in Raven’s hand.
Raven frowned. “What is this?”
“Your Royal Bank card, Mr. Hols.”
Pablo smiled. “A VIP of our bank has transferred two hundred thirty-four thousand gold coins to your account as the first month’s transaction. She instructed to inform you that profits will continue monthly.”
He bowed a final ti.
“Then, I’ll take my leave.”
The mont the door closed behind him, Jacob went stiff—eyes wide, face pale.
“My Lord… how did you—no, what did you do? Why would the Royal Bank manager co himself? And deliver money to you?”
Raven only shrugged and turned his attention to the wooden box.
Inside, a dozen vials shimred in different colors.
A single glance told him everything.
Interdiate-rank affinity potions.
Three Fire.
Three Water.
Two Wind.
Three Earth.
Two Light.
Two Darkness.
He hadn’t even asked for them.
She gave these… as a gift?
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Only the Darkness affinity is useful for . The rest—I’ll need to use wisely.
He stored everything away and looked at Jacob.
“If anyone from the All or Wills families cos, let Emanuel handle all the formal procedures. Call only when everything at the administrative departnt is complete.”
He rembered very well how the Sinclares once made him wait an entire day in the police court.
“Yes, My Lord.” Jacob bowed.
Raven walked down the left corridor and entered the alchemy room.
Hours passed.
Glass bubbled.
Herbs lted and refined.
Magic circles shimred.
By midnight, five new Mind of Insight potions rested neatly on the table.
He returned to his bedroom, sat cross-legged, and uncorked a bottle.
The liquid went down cool and smooth—mint with a tallic aftertaste. A beat later, clarity slamd into him like a wave. Thoughts sharpened. Links ford instantly. The entire world inside his mind brightened.
He didn’t waste ti.
His consciousness dove into the Mind Space.
The familiar hexagonal prism of the spell model surfaced before him—crystalline lines swirling with arcane geotry. He activated Mind Eye, and the lines weren’t just glowing—they were whispering aning.
It took two days before to follow just one energy thread. Now… seconds.
One line pulsed with rhythmic flow, collecting energy at one edge. Raven narrowed his gaze, instinct pulling him deeper.
The sensation clicked.
Rune language.
He whispered softly, instinctively:
“Kal Am Id Aive Li.”
A translation surfaced in his mind.
The gap between Ti and Space.
Then pain stabbed through his skull—sharp and imdiate. Raven gasped and was thrown out of the Mind Space.
“I didn’t know rune language could decipher spell models,” he muttered, forcing his eyes open.
Needles of pain jabbed through his skull, but he endured.
Zera’s voice floated in.
[You managed that because your calculative speed briefly reached that of a Radiant Wizard. Had your affinity been higher, you could have comprehended one-third of the model in seconds.]
Raven rubbed his forehead.
‘What’s my progression now?’
[From 4.3% to 5.2%. A large leap. And your Mind Eye lasts fifteen seconds now.]
‘Side effects?’
[Thirty minutes of headache. Two hours of ntal fatigue. Rest for at least five hours before using it again.]
Raven sighed and let himself fall onto the bed.
Sleep claid him quickly.
He woke before dawn, refreshed. After washing up, he summoned the Frozen Ender and entered the illusionary world.
Instantly, he stood on the familiar grassy field.
The blue-skinned humanoid practiced spearmanship nearby, each movent a perfect flow of precision and power.
Raven ford a spear from thin air, gripped it with both hands, and began mirroring the technique.
Fluid.
Sharp.
Controlled.
His aura intermingled with ice-elental energy. His Frozen Lance skill manifested flawlessly—just like Casper’s.
But sothing was different.
His mind felt clearer.
Sharper.
More synced with the spear.
A thin yellow hue flickered along the invisible aura at his spear’s edge.
And then—
The world shattered.
Fragnts of the grassy field broke apart like glass.
Suddenly, Raven stood under a dark night sky. Cold air wrapped around him—real, biting cold. He could breathe. He could feel.
Rows of brick houses lined a narrow street. Dim lantern light leaked through shutters.
This… looks real.
A scream tore through the darkness.
Raven’s heartbeat spiked. Instinct urged him forward, but before he moved—
A whistle sliced through the air.
He looked up.
An arrow dropped from the sky like a teor—its shaft wrapped in bright yellow aura.
Ti slowed.
Raven instinctively activated Mind Eye, but even the accelerated perception couldn’t fully track the projectile.
The arrow struck his chest.
Pain exploded across his body—raw, searing agony.
His vision fractured into shards—
—and everything went black.
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