Little Pink Starfish

The skill “Howl” certainly wasn’t powerful in the conventional sense. As an apprentice-level spell, its shortcomings were obvious: no offensive damage, effectively zero damage to areas, and its so-called “mind control” effect lasted barely a second—even against an average person. For someone like Tichean, a high-level mage with natural resistance to mental magic, it was usually negligible.

But with those shortcomings came key advantages: it had an almost instant cast time, a cooldown of under two seconds, and consumed minimal mana. A low-level mage could cast it hundreds of times without running out of mana—even without potions.

So, when the number of mages increased and they were well-coordinated, this spell became extremely effective.

The warehouse had already been razed, and terrified civilians were hiding in their homes. From a few nearby houses, some peeked out curiously, realizing only now that the long-abandoned warehouse had somehow filled with mages.

To the average civilian, mages were nearly mythical beings… though not the Bix tribe’s mages—some of them looked even more pitiful than common swordsmen. No one could understand the regret of choosing a certain class, nor the poverty that came with being a mage. Civilians still thought of mages as prestigious and wealthy—except, apparently, those Bix mages looked quite miserable.

“Anyone who gets caught up with the Bix will end up miserable,” someone whispered.

Heads nodded all around—couldn’t argue with that.

By now, Tichean was deeply shaken. If not for the protective shields constantly cast around her by the surrounding mages, she would’ve already been stabbed by those sneaky rogues.

The rogue class had only just been introduced, but it was much easier to play than mage, so plenty of players picked it up. However, many sword-wielding players who had already leveled up to the 30s or 40s hesitated to delete their characters and start over. Skills in this game were notoriously hard to acquire. And for now, the Thorned Rose faction’s shop didn’t even sell rogue skill stones—only mage and swordmaster ones. Worse, there was no indication they’d ever start selling rogue skills. That’s why so many players were cautious about switching classes.

The mage shields protected Tichean from physical attacks, but couldn’t defend against mental spells like “Howl.” Especially since “Howl” wasn’t targeting just her—it was technically an “area” spell. Though players jokingly called it a fake-AoE spell, nearby allies still suffered a bit of mental strain.

So, the mages protecting her were also starting to lose their minds. With all the “Howling,” their heads throbbed, their ears rang, and the endless barrage of blades and sneak attacks only worsened their panic.

“Ma’am, we need to get out of here now!” Emon finally shouted.

Tichean was on the verge of furious despair. Did he really think she didn’t want to leave? She physically couldn’t!

Now that the building was rubble, everyone could see the endless swarm of Bix flooding in. It was clear: if they couldn’t escape earlier, they weren’t escaping now.

“Emon, take the teleportation scroll!” Tichean finally made her decision. Even if she was mocked forever for it, better that than dying here.

A mage next to her didn’t hesitate—he snatched the scroll. But just as he did, a Bix pointed at him and issued a command.

And so, the one who couldn’t tear open the scroll became… Emon.

Tichean finally caught her breath, escaping the endless barrage of “Howl.” Her mind was clearer than ever—along with a rage she’d never felt before. She grabbed her staff, ready to unleash a devastating illusion spell to make these “monsters” pay.

But players always prioritized BOSSes—and Tichean was clearly the biggest threat remaining. Scroll or not, she looked like the strongest one. As the protective shields shifted to defend Emon, Tichean suddenly realized how terrifyingly precise those sneak attacks were. Every spell she tried to cast was interrupted. No time to even start the incantation.

Meanwhile, the remaining mages were being overwhelmed. Sadin’s strength had far surpassed their expectations—even with backup, they weren’t lasting much longer.

“I’ve lost,” Fen Rain said grimly. “I’m willing to surrender to the Count.”

In war, surrender was a valid option. And true to his knight’s code, Sadin halted his blade. Of the mages who had come with Fen Rain, most were either captured or incapacitated—Anis was severely wounded, the fate of Magpie was uncertain, and the remaining four young mages had been captured by Ichabod.

Before this, Fen Rain never imagined this would be his fate.

Since they were now prisoners, Eagle made no special concessions. Every mage was fitted with anti-magic shackles and thrown into Red Maple Castle’s underground prison.

These shackles weren’t expensive—they were fairly common magical items. But they could only be secured if the target was either unconscious or surrendered willingly. Otherwise, even a flicker of magical resistance could destroy them.

Once fastened, though, they were nearly impossible to remove without the key, effectively nullifying a mage’s abilities.

“I hope the rest of the mages in Red Maple City are also captured,” Fen Rain said, clutching the prison bars, yelling toward Pei Sen.

Pei Sen paused, then turned back and answered seriously, “I’m sorry, but that’s no longer something I can decide.”

Once a quest was triggered, players no longer followed his commands.

Pei Sen had never truly considered himself a leader of some alien race.

Soon, Pei Sen received a report: most players were disappointed they couldn’t eliminate all the enemies. One young mage had been particularly ruthless—he pierced his own eardrums to permanently deafen himself and became immune to “Howl,” managing to tear open a teleportation scroll and escape.

“Howl” wasn’t blocked by mere earplugs—it bypassed physical sound barriers to affect the mind. But for a true deaf person… it was useless.

In the end, fewer than half of the 100+ mages from the Mage Association escaped, and even those who did were heavily injured. But players were satisfied—Tichean, the strongest BOSS, had been left behind.

Pei Sen said to Eagle, “Young master, are we really okay using such heavy-handed methods?”

“What’s the problem?” Eagle replied calmly. “The Mage Association wants that sigil ring, and I’m absolutely unwilling to give it up. That’s an irreconcilable conflict. Do you think they’d let us off easy if we hadn’t hit back hard?”

Interests were the most unresolvable kind of conflict in the world.

Pei Sen thought this over. He also knew that in a few years, the Light Church would become the dominant power on the continent. The Mage Association would be too busy worrying about them to even bother with Red Maple. Right now, perhaps they could still push back.

“So let’s use Fen Rain as a bargaining chip to find a way to deal with your Light Seed issue,” Pei Sen said optimistically. “Better not to deal with the Light Church if we can avoid it.”

Pei Sen had never liked the Light Church—not out of prejudice, but because he knew the truth: a rapidly growing religious organization was never as simple as it seemed.

Most nobles still saw the church as a bunch of crude charlatans pretending to preach. Yet somehow, within a few years—not decades—they rose to dominance.

This wasn’t some distant future. It was fast approaching. That’s why Pei Sen remained wary, especially now that the church labeled players “Abyssal Outsiders.” That wasn’t a good sign.

“I know,” Eagle nodded. “But I’m not sure the Mage Association really has a solution for the Light Seed. Fen Rain let those mages into the city—he was clearly planning to use force to seize the ring. He might know about the Light Seed issue, but not how to solve it.”

Pei Sen’s heart sank. “Young master, are you… in pain because of the Light Seed?”

“A bit,” Eagle paused. “Just a little discomfort.”

Pei Sen: “…”

He suddenly thought of King Leiser of Esmia—also cursed, suffering extreme pain, but always wearing a calm, relaxed smile. Eagle, it seemed, had learned that same endurance.

That post on the forums—where someone had caught a rare glimpse of Eagle in distress—must’ve been the very first flare-up. Since then, Pei Sen, who was always by his side, had seen nothing unusual.

He sighed as he watched Eagle sit rigidly, back perfectly straight. Not relaxed at all.

“You don’t have to endure it in front of me,” Pei Sen said, walking over and embracing him gently, pressing a hand to Eagle’s cool cheek.

Eagle didn’t respond at first. Then, he buried his face in Pei Sen’s chest.

He was twenty now—no longer a fragile child. He didn’t need Pei Sen’s protection anymore.

But he still liked being treated like this.

He had never truly experienced affection or warmth. Pei Sen was the first—and only—person who cared for him from the heart.

Eagle bit his lip. The pain in his body eased significantly.

Perhaps, as his control over the Light Power grew, he wouldn’t need the Church’s methods after all. The pain was likely just his body struggling to contain an overwhelming force.

He leaned into Pei Sen and quickly fell asleep.

Pei Sen gently carried him to bed. Luckily, though Eagle had grown taller, he was still slim, so Pei Sen could lift him with ease. After tucking him in and brushing aside his messy hair, Pei Sen watched his peaceful face for a while, then quietly left.

Ichabod was waiting outside. Since Pei Sen had proven his leadership through miraculous victories, Ichabod now held him in high regard.

When Eagle had declared he would never marry and would stay with Pei Sen, Ichabod hadn’t even flinched.

“He’s resting?”

Pei Sen nodded. “He’s exhausted.”

“What’s next—?”

“Interrogate Fen Rain,” Pei Sen’s expression turned cold, the tenderness from moments ago gone. “I want to know if the Mage Association really has a way to deal with the Light Seed.”

Ichabod nodded seriously. “Understood.”

Just then, Aiken approached. Since Eagle’s return, he’d stepped back from his leadership duties. He hadn’t even attended the earlier negotiations.

“You’ve only been back half a day, and already you’ve made another major move,” Aiken said, smiling wryly.

“We didn’t want this,” Pei Sen smiled. “They just won’t leave us alone.”

“You’ve made an enemy of the Mage Association… but hey, we’re Bix. So be it.”

Pei Sen didn’t reply, only smiled faintly.

Aiken looked like he had something to say but chose not to. He simply patted Pei Sen’s shoulder. “You’ve done well. Go get some rest.”

Pei Sen really was tired. So much had happened recently—it was one event after another. Now that they were back in the calm of Frost Maple Domain, the exhaustion finally hit him.

Back in his room, Pei Sen covered his eyes and murmured, “Bix Magic Cube, are you there?”

“I really want to log off… go home… rest.”

Silence.

Of course, Bix Magic Cube didn’t respond.

Pei Sen gave a bitter smile, then relaxed. He touched his lips, thinking again of Eagle’s soft, unexpectedly tender kiss.

He curled up on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

He didn’t dream—not of the bustling modern world, not of his neat apartment, not of his old friends.

Maybe… he didn’t miss the real world that much after all.

He slept well.

---

The next morning, Pei Sen stretched, ready to visit Eagle and check what was for breakfast.

This kind of life hadn’t lasted long—but he was already getting used to it.

On the way to the kitchen, he opened his game menu—and suddenly froze.

Because sometime during the night, Bix Magic Cube had sent him a message.

He must’ve already been asleep when the “ding” came.

Standing still, he opened it.

It read:

“Don’t worry. One day, you’ll be able to go home.”

Pei Sen stood frozen, stunned.