Liyan Aguileras doesn’t like lies.  

It goes beyond mere dislike—she despises them.  

This hatred stems from her experiences growing up as the daughter of a Red Tower Master.  

She enjoyed abundant privileges, but with that came countless lies and deceptions.  

Lies that were so intense they left her traumatized.  

Thus, she came to hate lies with an almost compulsive aversion, and this loathing intensified when the liar in question was a magician, a result of the trauma from her childhood.  

So, when Liyan Aguileras first met Count Palatio, she instinctively despised him.  

Despite the rumors that Count Palatio had contributed greatly to capturing foreign threats, Liyan saw him as weak.  

He lacked the ‘eye’ that is essential for becoming a high-ranking magician, but Liyan, having a decent amount of talent, could easily see Alon’s mana.  

It was pitiful, barely a flicker of power.  

While he was undoubtedly a magician, the meager amount of mana he possessed wouldn’t even qualify him to reach the second tier.  

This reminded her of another rumor—one that suggested Count Palatio wasn’t the hero who stopped the foreign threats, but rather the benefactor of Deus Macallian, one of the Master Knights.  

The idea that he had stolen the glory of Deus Macallian quickly rooted itself in her mind as the truth, leading Liyan to develop a deep hatred for the Count.  

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Yes, that must have been it.  

But how?  

Liyan now stared at Alon in shock.  

More precisely, she was watching the phenomenon Alon had created.  

A chilling space had formed around him, spreading wide across the scorching desert, freezing the very air in the middle of this blazing land.  

When she saw frost starting to form on the sand near him, Liyan couldn’t comprehend what was happening.  

This was a spell that could never be manifested by the amount of mana Alon possessed.  

And it wasn’t just that.  

Though she didn’t understand how the spell was cast, Liyan could grasp its structure.  

“Compound magic, and at least three different spells…!”  

Compound magic.  

To explain it theoretically would take a long time, but simply put, it refers to linking two or more spells together.  

Of course, linking spells is no easy task.  

Various elements must be added to implement magic, but the basic arrangement structure must still be followed.  

In short, linking spells meant this: if even one structure is disrupted, the entire magic is nullified.  

The magician must re-establish the spells with their own equation to make it work.  

The difficulty of linking increases exponentially with each additional spell, making it a challenge that only magicians of at least the fifth tier can attempt.  

That’s why, as Liyan dumbly watched Alon prepare his next spell—  

“!”  

—she witnessed something.  

The man with the eyepatch, who had been standing in front of her just moments ago, had suddenly reached Alon.  

No one had noticed how it happened—it was over in an instant.  

Mercenaries, who belatedly realized that protecting Alon was their best strategy, quickly turned their bodies.  

Liyan, too, instinctively started to prepare her magic to aid Alon, but it was already too late.  

The man with an eyepatch was standing before Alon with a sly smile, poised to swing his twin scimitars.  

However, what Liyan saw was not Alon’s head being severed—  

“Freeze.”  

Snap-!  

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—It was the man with an eyepatch, frozen in place.  

Frozen in the very posture of swinging his twin scimitars, the man turned into an ice statue in that brief moment.  

“Shatter.”  

With Alon’s low murmur,  

Crack—Crash!  

The ice shattered, and the body of the man who had driven them to despair was instantly broken into countless fragments.  

Silence.  

“Hoo—”  

With a quiet exhale from Alon, a white breath once again swept over him.  

Retracting the hand that had formed the seals even Liyan couldn’t fully comprehend—  

“I’ll give you a chance.”  

—he spoke, as if he had anticipated everything.  

Without any change in expression, he looked coldly at the group of bandits, who were now frozen in fear.  

“Get lost.”  

It was a quiet yet unmistakably clear pronouncement, carrying a sharp intent that no one could misinterpret.  

With just a single attack, the bandits, having lost their leader in an instant, hesitated briefly before turning to flee in all directions.  

Watching Alon calmly dispel his magic as if nothing had happened, Liyan realized just how ignorant she had been and continued to stare at him.  

A hint of admiration flickered in her eyes.  

***

As he watched the retreating figures of the bandits, who had fled in a heartbeat, Alon felt a sense of relief and bewilderment hidden behind his expressionless face.  

‘Things didn’t go exactly as planned, but it worked out in the end, so that’s a relief.’  

Alon knew about the Bloodsand Bandits.  

They appeared as part of a side story in the game.  

In the game, this bandits had a characteristic where, once their leader was dealt with, the remaining members would scatter.  

That was why he aimed to take down the leader quickly, and he had succeeded as intended.  

…Though, it was unexpected that the leader had rushed at him before he had even fully manipulated the magic array.  

‘It seems reducing the penalty worked.’  

Alon suddenly felt the searing desert heat seep back into his bones.  

The cold that had spread from him moments ago was from a spell he had spent over half a year developing after returning from Caliban—‘The Extreme Cold.’  

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This spell, which required the simultaneous use of spatial magic, frost magic, and maintenance magic, had the effect of temporarily transforming the surrounding environment to resemble the frozen tundra of the North.  

However, for Alon, this transformation was critical.  

‘The Extreme Cold’ was important because it allowed me to partially fulfill one of the four conditions required to twist the world’s laws for killing foreign entities—‘magic must be used on the land of extreme cold.’  

In other words, the spell allowed him to reduce the number of penalties he bore from four to three, making it quite valuable for him.  

The negative consequences of these conditions limited his magical abilities.  

‘The magic I linked with the extreme cold spell worked well. The difference in difficulty between bearing one fewer penalty is indeed substantial. Even though the spell itself became more powerful than I had initially expected… due to the belt.’  

Though Alon felt momentarily disoriented by the unexpected surge in power,  

‘Well, I suppose that’s a good thing.’  

Shrugging his shoulders, he consciously reached for the ornament around his waist—a belt adorned with three amethysts—called the “Belt of the Forgotten.”  

This item doubled both the damage he inflicted and the damage he received, a feature that applied to Alon even with the three penalties he was carrying.  

‘…If I can obtain that item here, I could remove one more penalty for sure.’  

Thinking this, Alon loosened the belt and tucked it into his pocket.  

‘I’ll still need to adjust the extreme cold spell. For consuming the power of three spells, its duration is far too short. It barely lasts a minute… I should look into improving that.’  

With these thoughts in mind, he returned to the carriage.  

From that day, including the next, as they neared the desert city, two changes occurred in Alon’s life.  

“Ah, Count Palatio! This is a special wine produced in Gur, and it’s said to taste absolutely wonderful. How about a glass?”  

“Thank you.”  

“And this here is ham that I brought to sell as a local specialty in the city. Would you like to try it? It’s incredibly delicious…!”  

The first change was the attitude of Rad, the head of the Golden-Haired Caravan, which had shifted 180 degrees.  

In the span of just one night, Rad had presented Alon with even more lavish gifts than he had offered Liyan over the past few days, acting as if he would give him anything, even his liver and heart.  

“If there’s anything else you desire, please don’t hesitate to let me know!”  

Rad fawned over Alon so much that it seemed his hands would wear out from all the groveling, before disappearing after bowing deeply.  

“That man’s attitude changed 180—no, 360 degrees.”  

“…Wouldn’t 360 degrees mean he stayed the same?”  

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“I meant his reaction changed that much.”  

The second change was—  

“Count Palatio.”  

“…Liyan Aguileras?”  

“Yes, if it’s not an inconvenience, I’d like to discuss magic with you. Would that be alright?”  

Liyan Aguileras’s attitude toward Alon had completely changed.  

On the night the bandits attacked, she had bowed deeply to him, something that seemed impossible for her pride, offering an apology.  

From the next day on, she began to seek out Alon frequently, asking various questions about magic.  

“So, you mean this part can be arranged arbitrarily in the magic array—”  

“Yes, to use compound magic, you need to maintain the structure, so instead of fixing the array, you twist it through rotation.”  

Liyan Aguileras’s conversations with Alon proved to be quite beneficial for him.  

Until now, Alon had been self-taught in magic, relying on twisting spells through language alone.  

Liyan’s questions and knowledge provided him with valuable academic insight.  

Whenever he explained an array structure that was slightly superior to hers, she would unconsciously or perhaps consciously react with soft murmurs like “Oh… I see,” which Alon found quite satisfying.  

Of course, as their conversations increased, the overly admiring gaze she began to send his way felt a little awkward.  

“Here you go.”  

“And this is…?”  

“A potion.”  

Today as well, as soon as their conversation ended, Liyan naturally handed him a mana recovery potion.  

Though it wasn’t of the highest grade like the ones Penia had given him, the potion Liyan handed him daily was still fairly expensive, leaving Alon feeling a bit embarrassed behind his expressionless face.  

“You don’t have to bring a gift every time you visit.”  

“I’m learning from you. Please, don’t feel burdened and just accept it.”  

Since she insisted on giving him a potion almost every time they met, Alon eventually ended up receiving about four mana potions by the time they arrived at the desert city.  

***

After a journey of more than a week, Alon arrived in the desert city, parting ways with Rad, who had told him to rely on him for anything, and Liyan, who promised to formally apologize to him again sometime later.  

“…It’s understandable for a merchant, but the daughter of a Red Tower Mage has changed so much that it’s hard to adjust,” muttered Evan as he watched Liyan walk away.  

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With that, Alon entered the desert city, leisurely taking in his surroundings.  

Aside from the sandy hue of the buildings, it wasn’t much different from the capital of Asteria.  

However, one structure stood out—the gigantic coliseum that could even be seen from the south gate, which seemed to symbolize the colony itself and exuded an overwhelming presence.  

‘It looks like it could hold more than 100,000 people.’  

Gazing at the massive coliseum visible even beyond countless other buildings, Alon shared his thoughts and began walking with Evan toward where Seolrang was.  

After about 20 minutes—  

“Well, well, noble lord, care to have a chat with us?”  

Alon was confronted.  

In front of him and Evan stood a group of over ten men who, at a glance, clearly screamed, “We’re thugs!”  

Yet, interestingly enough, the surrounding mercenaries simply watched the situation without intervening, despite the thugs picking a fight with Alon.  

Some even seemed entertained, as if this was a common occurrence, while others pretended not to notice the situation at all.  

It was a very strange atmosphere.  

“If things go well, we could even introduce you to our boss, Malian. How about that?”  

The thug’s words immediately made Alon understand the odd situation.  

‘…These guys must be Malian’s men.’  

Recalling the name of Malian, one of the four Baba Yagas of the colony, also known by the ominous title “Beast of Horror,” Alon soon realized his mistake.  

‘This is Malian’s territory.’  

Alon remembered that, in the game, whenever you entered Malian’s area, thugs like these would try to extort you.  

Sighing resignedly, Alon thought, ‘Do I have no choice but to let them rob me?’  

He knew that fighting here would be a bad move.  

Dealing with the thugs blocking his way would be easy, but doing so would put him at odds with one of the four Baba Yagas.  

This would create unnecessary restrictions for Alon, who needed to operate in the colony for the next few days.  

Just as he began to reach into his pocket,  

Thud—  

“Hey, are you sighing with us right in front of you?”  

The thug who had been smirking a twisted smile just moments ago lightly tapped Alon’s forehead.  

It was as if he was mocking a child, grinning crookedly.  

Evan, standing beside Alon, instinctively furrowed his brow and reached for his sword, but—  

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Boom!  

The thug who had tapped Alon’s forehead was suddenly slammed to the side, crashing into a nearby building.  

It had happened in an instant.  

Both Evan and Alon wore bewildered expressions as they looked at the thug, who had been thrown across the street, while the other thugs who had been smirking just moments ago had their expressions freeze in shock.  

“Hey—”  

And then,  

“What do you think you’re doing to my Master?”  

Crackle—  

“Huh? Why don’t you tell me?”  

—accompanied by lightning.  

“Explain what you just did.”  

The faces of the thugs who had been laughing earlier quickly transformed into ones of fear and panic.  

“Go on, explain yourself.”  

Golden eyes gleamed with fury.  

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep