The very second the words "I accept your offer" left Adam's lips, it was like a dam broke. A huge wave of noise and excitement crashed through the quiet village.

  The villagers, who had been holding their breath, suddenly burst into loud cheers. It wasn't just polite clapping; it was a real celebration. People raised their hands high in the air, shouting with joy.

  Some jumped up and down, hugging their neighbors. It sounded like they had just won a huge, important battle. Their happy shouts bounced off the newly fixed walls of their homes, filling the small village square with pure, noisy relief and gratitude.

  It felt like the heavy cloud of fear that had hung over them for so long had finally, truly lifted.

  Adam watched the overwhelming reaction. A small, faint smile touched his lips. It was impossible not to feel a little bit moved by their happiness, especially after seeing how much they had suffered.

  But even as he smiled, his mind didn't wander. He stayed focused. There were still things he didn't understand, pieces of the puzzle that didn't fit. He needed answers before he could leave.

  He turned his attention back to the village chief, Oliver, whose face showed a mixture of relief and deep respect. Adam waited for the loudest cheers to die down slightly, then spoke, his voice calm but clear enough to be heard.

  "Oliver," he began, "earlier, when we first spoke, you mentioned something. You said this is a warrior village. Can you tell me more about that? What does that mean exactly?" He remembered how skilled Oliver himself had seemed, even when forced to fight.

  Oliver nodded, taking a step closer so they could talk more easily amidst the lingering happy buzz from the crowd. He gestured for the villagers nearby to give them a little space, which they did respectfully.

  "Actually," Oliver began, his voice serious again, "perhaps 'warrior' isn't the perfect word. It’s more accurate to say our village is made up entirely of hunters. We live by the forest."

  He swept a hand around, indicating the rugged-looking people standing nearby, their bodies lean and strong.

  "Everyone here—the men, the women, even some of the older teenagers who are strong enough—we all learn to track and hunt from a young age. We go deep into the forests surrounding us. We bring back meat for food, furs for warmth, herbs for medicine. Everything we need to survive comes from the hunt and what we can gather. It's a hard life, but it's the only one we've ever known."

  Adam nodded slowly, taking in the explanation. It made sense. These people didn't look like farmers who tended fields.

  They looked tougher, more weathered, like people who constantly faced the dangers and challenges of the wild. Their eyes were sharp, watchful.

  Their bodies were built for moving through rough terrain, for enduring hardship. They survived by their wits, skill, and courage in the face of nature, which was its own kind of battle. Yes, 'hunters' fit them well.

  Oliver continued, but his tone changed. The pride in his voice faded, replaced by a heavy sadness. His shoulders sagged slightly, as if remembering was physically painful.

  "Our village… it used to be peaceful. Difficult, yes, but peaceful. We took care of each other. We lived by the old ways. But everything changed two years ago." His gaze shifted, moving towards the spot where Brand lay unconscious, tied up securely. He pointed a trembling finger in that direction. "It changed when he arrived here."

  The remaining villagers murmured among themselves, remembering that dark time. Fear and anger flickered in their eyes again as they glanced at the bound figure.

  "He didn't come alone," Oliver explained, his voice low and rough with bad memories. "Two of our own hunters brought him. They were good men, experienced. They had gone deeper into the jungle than usual, following a rare beast on a routine hunting trip… but they didn't come back with their prize. They came back carrying him."

  Adam's eyes narrowed slightly. He listened intently, already starting to piece together the story. Two hunters went out, came back with a stranger… it sounded ominous.

  "He was badly injured when they found him," Oliver said, his voice dropping even quieter, filled with a deep regret that felt old and heavy. "He was near death.

  Covered in wounds, barely breathing. We didn't know who he was or where he came from. We only saw someone hurt, someone needing help." He looked around at his people, his expression pained.

  "We thought we were doing the right thing. The honorable thing. It’s our way… if someone is truly helpless, we offer aid. So, we brought him into the village. We cleaned his wounds. Our healers used their best herbs. We shared our food with him. We nursed him back to health over several days… watching over him day and night."

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  He paused, taking a shaky breath. The memory was clearly difficult for him. "But as soon as he was strong enough to stand on his own,"

  Oliver added, his voice becoming hard, his expression darkening with remembered anger and betrayal, "as soon as he had his strength back… he repaid our kindness. He repaid our help in the worst possible way imaginable."

  Adam didn't need to ask. He could guess what happened next. He had seen the results of Brand’s cruelty firsthand. The fear in the villagers’ eyes, the way they had been controlled like puppets, the lingering darkness… it all pointed to a terrible betrayal. He stayed silent, letting Oliver tell the story in his own way.

  Oliver took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. "At that time, two years ago, our village was larger. We were doing well. We had many families, many children… the forest was providing for us. But after he recovered… things started to go wrong. Slowly at first, so slowly we almost didn't notice." His eyes looked haunted.

  "People began to disappear. One day, a hunter wouldn't return from the forest. Then a woman gathering herbs would vanish. Then another. Sometimes, they were just gone without a trace. Other times…" he hesitated, swallowing hard,

  "other times, people just… changed. They became distant, cold. Their eyes looked empty. They weren't themselves anymore. They started obeying him, listening only to him."

  That confirmed what Adam had suspected. Brand hadn't just killed people; he had corrupted them, twisted them, used them. He had stolen their lives and their free will.

  Adam thought about James and Nova, about Oliver himself, forced to fight against their own nature. He felt a cold anger settle in his chest.

  Still, one question had been bothering Adam since he first realized Brand had been living here, not just passing through or attacking suddenly.

  It seemed strange for a powerful magic user to hide out in a remote hunting village for two whole years. What was he doing? Adam looked directly at Oliver, his gaze serious. "Can I ask," Adam said, his voice calm but firm, "what exactly was this man doing here all this time? Why did he stay?"

  Oliver met Adam’s gaze, holding it steady. The old chief seemed to gather his thoughts before answering. "I don't know everything," he admitted honestly.

  "He was secretive. He kept to himself mostly, in the largest hut we gave him. He demanded things… strange materials from the forest, specific times of quiet… But I do know one thing he told us, something he seemed proud of, yet also angry about." Oliver leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a dangerous secret. "He claimed to be from the Magus Tower."

  The name hit Adam with force. Magus Tower. That was significant. Adam’s eyes sharpened, his attention locking onto Oliver completely. This was important information.

  "But there’s something strange about that, too," Oliver added, a frown creasing his already lined forehead. He looked confused.

  "Sometimes, especially when he was angry or frustrated, he would say he was from the Magus Tower. But other times, he would mutter about the Black Magus Tower. He seemed to switch between the names. I could never figure out which one was the real truth, or if they were different places, or if he was just lying…"

  Adam’s expression shifted subtly. A flicker of understanding crossed his face. It wasn't confusion to him; it was a clue.

  In the two years since he had arrived in this world, Adam hadn’t just focused on getting stronger physically and magically. He had also spent countless hours learning.

  Jordan, his master and guide, had provided him with knowledge about the world, its history, its kingdoms, and its magic systems. He had soaked it all up like a dry sponge.

  Among all the things he had learned, one topic stood out because it was central to how magic worked and was controlled in this world: the Towers.

  These weren't just buildings; they were huge organizations, centers of magical power and learning. They were where magicians lived, studied, researched, and grew their abilities. He remembered reading about the four major towers, each with its own special focus and reputation.

  First, there was the Red Magus Tower. Adam recalled reading that this tower was famous for its focus on offensive magic. The magicians there were often described as warriors who used magic as their weapon.

  They specialized in powerful spells meant for combat, destruction, and pure force. They were the magical muscle, the front-line fighters.

  Second was the Blue Magus Tower. This one was the most famous, the most respected, and generally considered the most powerful overall. It wasn't just about raw power, though.

  The Blue Tower acted like the main government for all the other towers. It was filled with magicians who were scholars, researchers, and powerful leaders who managed the rules and affairs of the magical world. Getting accepted into the Blue Tower was seen as a great honor.

  Third came the Green Magus Tower. This tower was dedicated to life, healing, and nature. The magicians here were healers who could mend wounds and cure diseases with magic.

  It was also a place for researchers who studied magical plants, creatures, and the very nature of magic itself. They focused on discovery, growth, and understanding the gentle side of magic.

  And finally, there was the fourth tower, the one spoken of in hushed tones, the one associated with darkness and fear: the Black Magus Tower.

  Adam remembered the descriptions clearly. The Black Tower was surrounded by secrets and rumors. It was known as the place where magicians experimented with dangerous and forbidden magic – spells that other towers considered unethical or too risky.

  It was said to attract the outcasts, the rebels, the magicians who had been kicked out of the other towers for breaking rules or doing dangerous things. They pushed the boundaries of magic, often into dark and scary places.

  Suddenly, Brand's actions, his personality, his strange powers – it all clicked into place. The recklessness, the cruelty, the obsession with power, the use of forbidden-feeling magic that controlled minds and seemed to drain life… it fit the dark reputation of the Black Magus Tower perfectly.

  Before Adam could voice his thoughts, Oliver continued, unknowingly confirming Adam’s realization. "That man—Brand—he didn’t talk much about his past, but sometimes, when he thought no one was listening, he would mutter to himself.

  Angry words. He complained about being expelled." Oliver stressed the word. "He said he was kicked out of the Black Magus Tower. He blamed… he blamed 'those arrogant magicians from the Blue Tower'. He said they put pressure on the Black Tower to get rid of him."

  Adam's eyebrows furrowed slightly. So, it was true. The Blue Tower really did act as the main authority, powerful enough to influence even the secretive Black Tower.

  It seemed Brand wasn't just an outcast; he was an expelled outcast, likely for doing something truly terrible even by the Black Tower's standards.

  "And from what little else I could piece together," Oliver went on, rubbing his temples as if trying to recall fuzzy details, "he was hiding here because he was trying to create some kind of new spell. Something powerful… something dangerous. He never said what it was, but he was obsessed with it. He needed a lot of things for it. Resources, he called them."

  Oliver's face grew grim. "And slowly, over these two years, he began using our village as his resource pile.

  He took things from the forest through the hunters he controlled. He demanded strange minerals we found deep in the caves. And worse… I think… I think he started using our people. Their life force, maybe? Their energy? I don't know for sure, but that's when the disappearances got worse, and the feeling of dread settled over everything."

  Adam clenched his fists tightly at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He didn't need Oliver to explain further.

  Now he fully understood. The strange, heavy feeling of sadness and despair that had clung to the village like a shroud. The missing people, vanished without a trace or turned into empty shells.

  The unnatural dark magic he had sensed, the feeling of life being drained away. It wasn't random acts of cruelty. It had all stemmed from one power-hungry, expelled magician's twisted experiment.

  Brand had turned this remote village into his personal laboratory, using its resources and its people as disposable ingredients for his dark creation. The thought filled Adam with a cold, hard anger.