A few days later, Leon could be seen atop a small, weather-worn carriage creaking its way along a narrow path that cut through a densely packed forest. The trees here grew unnaturally close to one another, their thick trunks rising like silent pillars into a canopy so tight that sunlight could barely slip through. What little light did manage to break past the leaves ca in thin, fractured rays, painting the ground in shifting patterns of gold and shadow.
The air itself felt heavy—damp with the scent of moss, bark, and sothing faintly charred that lingered beneath it all. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable unless one paid attention. But Leon noticed.
He always noticed.
The slow, rhythmic clopping of hooves echoed softly through the forest as the donkey pulled the carriage forward with stubborn consistency. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t elegant. But it didn’t tire easily, and more importantly, it didn’t complain.
Unlike people.
Leon sat lazily at the front of the carriage, one leg propped up while the other dangled slightly over the edge. His posture gave off the impression of a man without a care in the world, yet his eyes—half-lidded and calm—missed nothing around him. Every rustle of leaves, every shift in wind direction, every distant sound was quietly noted and processed.
The group of mages he had encountered days ago had already served their purpose. He had extracted what he needed—information, routes, rumors—and once they beca irrelevant, he let them go. Killing them would have been easier. Cleaner, even. But unnecessary.
And Leon did not act without reason.
What he was after now... required solitude.
Required focus.
Required patience.
There was a reason he had co all the way to the central continent, leaving behind complications, unfinished business, and people who might still be searching for him.
Everything else was secondary.
"Hey! Move your donkey out of the way! So of us actually have places to be!!"
The sharp shout cut through the forest’s quiet like a blade.
Before Leon could even react, a sleek horse-drawn carriage ca barreling down the path from behind, its wheels grinding against stone and root as it forced its way forward. The horses were large, muscular beasts, their hooves striking the ground with power and urgency.
The carriage rushed past Leon with little regard, brushing dangerously close as it overtook him.
A gust of wind followed in its wake.
Leon didn’t flinch.
"Ehhh..." he sighed lightly, scratching the side of his cheek as he watched the carriage disappear into the distance.
His gaze drifted down briefly toward the donkey.
Short legs. Modest build. Steady breathing.
"...They can’t bla you for that," he muttered.
The donkey flicked an ear in response, as if acknowledging the statent.
Silence returned soon after, the forest swallowing the disturbance as though it had never happened.
Leon leaned back slightly, letting his eyes close halfway again.
"Fire Town..." he murmured under his breath, the na rolling off his tongue with quiet familiarity.
It wasn’t long before the forest began to thin.
The oppressive density gave way gradually, trees spreading farther apart, light becoming stronger, clearer. And then, just beyond the last line of trees—
Structures.
At first glance, it barely resembled a settlent.
Small clusters of buildings stood scattered across a wide expanse of land, each separated by large stretches of open ground. So were simple wooden houses, others reinforced with stone. Smoke rose from chimneys in thin streams, carried lazily by the wind.
There were no walls.
No clear boundaries.
No sense of centralization.
The buildings stretched outward for kiloters, forming a strange, loose network rather than a unified town.
"..."
Leon narrowed his eyes slightly.
Town didn’t quite fit.
City didn’t either.
It was sothing in between—a place built not for appearance, but for function.
And yet...
For a settlent so exposed, it lacked sothing critical.
Defensiveness.
"Welco to the place of fire."
Two guards stood near what could barely be called an entrance—a simple wooden fra marking a path rather than an actual gate. They gave Leon a brief glance as his carriage approached, their eyes scanning him from head to toe with practiced indifference.
Then, just as quickly, they looked away.
No questions.
No demands.
No toll.
Leon’s brows furrowed ever so slightly.
"Hm?"
That... was new.
For the first ti in a long while, no one had asked him for money.
No one had tried to probe him, stall him, or take advantage of his arrival.
It was almost unsettling.
He guided the donkey forward without comnt, passing through the so-called entrance as if it were nothing more than an invisible line.
But as he moved deeper into the settlent, the oddities only beca more apparent.
He had already passed several hos before even reaching what could be considered the "center." People moved about their daily routines—carrying wood, tending to tools, walking along dirt paths—with little regard for his presence.
No wary glances.
No whispered conversations.
No tension.
’Strange...’
Leon’s fingers tapped lightly against his knee.
’I need a place to rest. Sowhere on the outskirts.’
Distance.
That was what he needed most right now.
A secluded location, far from prying eyes, where he could settle down temporarily and begin his real objective.
The inheritances.
Fragnts of immortality scattered across the central continent—hidden, buried, protected, or forgotten.
That was why he was here.
Everything else... including Ni’an, the mages, and the lingering threads of his past—
Secondary.
"Excuse ."
Leon brought the carriage to a slow halt near a group of youngsters gathered beside a worn-out well. They looked to be locals, their clothes simple, their expressions unguarded.
"Can soone point to the administrative center? I need to rent a place."
The group glanced at him briefly.
No hesitation.
No suspicion.
One of them simply lifted a hand and pointed toward a large wooden structure further ahead, its size noticeably larger than the surrounding buildings.
"There."
"Thanks."
Leon gave a small nod before guiding the donkey forward once more.
’These people...’
His eyes swept across the settlent again.
’Too relaxed.’
For a place situated near an elental school—one that likely attracted mages, outsiders, and all manner of unpredictable individuals—this level of openness bordered on negligence.
Or confidence.
Either way, it was unnatural.
He exhaled quietly.
’Complaining about a good thing... I need to lighten up.’
Monts later, he arrived at the administrative building.
Up close, it looked even more robust than he initially thought. Thick wooden beams reinforced its structure, and the constant movent around it gave it an air of quiet importance.
Villagers moved in and out, many carrying bundles of firewood stacked in their arms. Their expressions were neutral, almost blank, as they went about their tasks with silent efficiency.
Leon paused for a mont, watching them.
Then—
"Focus."
He shook his head lightly and stepped down from the carriage.
Inside, the process was simple.
Too simple.
A brief exchange. A small paynt. No questions asked.
He secured a modest house located on the outskirts of the settlent—isolated enough to suit his needs.
No nas were verified.
No background checked.
When asked for identification...
He gave one.
"Amir."
The na left his lips without hesitation.
Just another mask.
Just another layer.
And with that, Leon... no—
Amir settled in.
Days passed.
Quietly.
Smoothly.
Without incident.
No interruptions. No disturbances. No unexpected visitors.
It was almost... peaceful.
Inside the small house, Amir remained largely isolated, dedicating all his ti to himself. The remnants of the dead dragon’s essence still lingered within him, a vast reservoir of power waiting to be refined, absorbed, and made his own.
It was not a gentle process.
His body had to adapt—had to endure.
Every breath, every mont of stillness, every cycle of energy circulation brought subtle changes. His muscles grew denser. His bones stronger. His internal energy sharper, more refined.
And yet, he did not rush.
Rushing led to instability.
Instability led to death.
So he took his ti.
Controlled.
Precise.
Patient.
By the fifth day, sothing shifted.
It began subtly.
A faint tremor beneath his skin. A tightening of his core. A sensation as though sothing deep within him was... pushing.
Rising.
Breaking past an invisible barrier.
Amir’s eyes snapped open.
A sharp glint flashed within them.
The energy inside his body surged, flowing faster, heavier—like a river swelling after a storm. Every cell seed to resonate with newfound strength, vibrating at a higher frequency.
His breathing slowed.
But his presence... deepened.
"...So it begins."
He exhaled softly, clenching his hand into a fist.
Power coiled beneath his skin, waiting.
He had reached the peak of Level Four.
And just beyond it—
Transcendence.
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