Under the cool morning mist, a large group of carriages and horses moved along a lonely road. The caravan didn’t move hurriedly, but progressed steadily. The journey was far from dangerous.

The atmosphere among everyone was pretty relaxed, but a few gazes kept shifting to a certain figure.

A skinny teen of around fourteen sat on a horse, his dark red hair tied back into a bun that was ready to collapse at any moment. Strands fell around his face, giving him a slovenly appearance. His skin was rather pale with dark and heavy bags underneath his golden eyes. The entire aura he exuded was gloomy and tired. He looked as if he was ready to fall off the horse at any given moment and sleep, but his long and bony fingers were still lightly grabbing the reins.

His body swayed along with the wind which seemed ready to topple him if it blew too hard.

The boy’s mouth opened wide and a silent yawn passed through him. He slowly blinked a couple times before his eyes firmly shut, long lashes brushing his cheeks.

He did it!

He actually fell asleep!

Many of the people watching couldn’t help but feel a variety of amusement, irritation, and worry when they looked at him.

A lot of them were wondering how he could possibly be so tired. In the week that he had been with them, the most he had done was sleep when they rested and drowsily ride his horse.

When had he used any energy?

Not to mention, he had been grouped in with the mercenaries and was supposed to be on alert--not sleeping!

Even if he was only a D-ranked mercenary, there was some decency expected from him.

Of course, the sleeping youth was unaware of all of the opinions directed towards him. His body continued to bounce along with the horses movements and he somehow managed to stay upright. Everyone watching thought that he was rather fortunate.

But no one could see that it was not a miracle.

There was a grey, hazy blob of anima that wrapped around the boy and his horse. Even though they were separate, it was as if they had been grouped together with the anima as glue. Only those at expert levels--such as Adamantem and beyond, would be able to manipulate the world’s energy to this extent.

Yet, there was no subterfuge--the boy was only ranked at Argenti.

If anyone had known this, they would have realized they were gazing at an undeniable genius.

Emil sniffed, forcing his eyes too open up again.

Of course, that sleeping teenager was him.

I can’t sleep here… ah… there’s work to do.

He rubbed his face, his dreary eyes rolling over the scene in front of him.

Two more days of guarding the caravan.

Under the Night Sage’s brief advice before he threw Emil out, he was told two things:

One, register to become a mercenary--they received a wide variety of jobs and it would help Emil gain a source of income as well as train. All of the knowledge he had was largely related to theory and it’d pay for him to get more battle experience.

Two, under no circumstances was he ever allowed to reveal his true strength. Even though Emil’s corporeal body had reached only the Argenti stage, his mind and soul far exceeded that--especially after the Ancient Ones’ blessings. His knowledge of the laws of space and time was extremely profound, allowing his skill level in operating magic to increase by leaps and bounds. He could punch well above his weight. Without the Night Sage’s protection, it’d be dangerous for Emil to reveal this. The world wasn’t full of people with pure intents, after all. Young geniuses like Emil generally had two fates: death or forced servitude.

So, he was restricted to only revealing strength that could be considered average or slightly above it. He wouldn’t garner enough attention to cause any trouble.

Other than a token that Emil could use once in an absolute emergency to teleport him to the Night Sage and some money, he had been given nothing else. After all, his teacher wasn’t sending him out to his death. Rather, he wanted Emil to experience more of the world without having his hand held through all of it. The boy had come to understand quickly.

Emil sighed, raising his gaze up to the sky.

But still… it’s a little boring.

He had been gone for a month. It had taken him three weeks to find his way out of the magical forest he had lived in for the past four years. And then another week to make it to a nearby city and apply to become a mercenary.

But nothing interesting had happened. And no one here had any interest in conversation either. Those who knew each other stayed group together, but the individual remained in solitude. From the beginning, Emil didn’t consider himself to be a very outgoing person, so he didn’t bother going out of his way to become one.

Instead, he continued on in silence.

He yawned once more, his head dropping forward as he struggled to remain conscious. Ever since he had left the basement, he had felt extraordinarily exhausted. The first two weeks he had spent asleep, but when he woke up days later, it was like he hadn’t slept at all. At first, he thought this was his body assimilating to all of the power he had gained. But then, he realized that the Ancient Ones had affected him more than he originally thought. The mark they placed on him was constantly siphoning life from him in exchange for power.

Emil scratched his jaw and stared forward, his eyes sinking into darkness. He wouldn’t die from it because he absorbed more anima in a day than the life force it took away from him. But the drowsiness as a side effect wasn’t pleasant, either.

“Bastards,” he muttered under his breath. “See if I ever speak to you again.”