Adam stood in the middle of the villagers, watching as they blinked in confusion, their eyes no longer glowing green.

  The enchantment that had controlled them was broken, and now they exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of what had happened.

  A cool breeze stirred the leaves of nearby trees, carrying with it the faint smell of wood smoke and damp earth.

  In the distance, the low hum of a nearby stream could be heard, a soft counterpoint to the tension that reigned in the square.

  Then, without warning, a furious scream pierced the air, drawing everyone's attention like a sharp crack in the silence.

  The sound was raw and anguished, and it made several villagers jump, their eyes widening even further in alarm.

  It was Brand, standing on the second-floor balcony of the wooden house, his features contorted in rage. The warm light of the setting sun glinted off his eyes, but now those eyes burned with fury.

  His voice, heavy with venom, echoed across the gathering:

  "How dare you break my slaves free? You'll pay for this!"

  At Brand's shout, the villagers' expressions shifted. They turned their fearful gazes toward him, and in that moment, recognition and terror passed over their faces.

  They knew him as the man who had controlled every aspect of their lives for so long. The very sight of his familiar, stern features sent a shiver through the crowd.

  Some of them shivered visibly, their bodies recoiling as they cast uneasy glances at one another, their eyes flickering with a trace of the lingering magic that had once held them captive.

  Adam, however, remained unfazed by the chaos around him. His face was set in a calm, measured expression as he fixed his eyes on Brand.

  There was no fear in his look—only a steady determination that seemed to cut through the murmur of the frightened villagers.

  Without uttering a single word, Adam began to move. Each step he took was deliberate, measured, and he advanced slowly through the crowd.

  The villagers instinctively parted, stepping aside with nervous murmurs as Adam pushed forward. His boots crunched on the gravel-strewn ground, and each footfall resonated as a quiet challenge to the oppressive silence.

  As he neared the wooden house, the air grew thick with anticipation. The structure loomed ahead, its weathered planks and timeworn beams standing as a testament to countless storms weathered over the years.

  With a powerful leap that seemed to defy the stillness of the moment, Adam vaulted the space between the crowd and the house.

  He landed in one fluid, controlled motion right in front of the building, directly below where Brand stood on the balcony.

  The villagers, now watching from a respectful distance, whispered among themselves in low, awed voices.

  "Who is this young man?" one elderly woman asked, her voice trembling as much from age as from fear.

  Their words, though soft and hesitant, filled the air with wonder and admiration for Adam's boldness and strength.

  Standing beneath the balcony, Adam's gaze locked with Brand's. The silence between them was heavy, charged with the weight of unspoken challenges.

  Adam's voice, when it came, was low and steady—a quiet intensity that drew the attention of everyone present. "Now, it's your turn," he said, each word measured as if weighing the very soul of his enemy.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  With those words hanging in the air, Adam drew his sword. The blade, polished to a high gleam, caught the ambient light and reflected it with a sharp, almost otherworldly brilliance.

  He held the sword aloft, the light dancing along its edge, and for a moment, time seemed to slow.

  The villagers watched with bated breath as he raised the weapon above his head, every muscle in his arms tensed for the coming action.

  In one swift, fluid motion, Adam leapt into the air. His body moved with a natural grace, as he slashed his sword toward Brand.

  A brilliant white slash of energy burst forth from the blade, surging through the air like a living arrow.

  The energy was so fierce and bright that it seemed to cut through the gathering gloom, hurtling toward the balcony with incredible speed.

  The impact was almost palpable—a force so strong that it sliced through the wooden structure, splitting the balcony in half. Splinters of wood and shards of magical light flew in every direction as the energy surged toward Brand.

  Yet, just as the brilliant energy was about to strike its intended target, something unexpected began to happen. The very reality around Adam started to shatter.

  It was as though the air itself was fragile, breaking apart like a pane of glass under too much pressure. Cracks, luminous and jagged, formed in the atmosphere, spreading rapidly until the entire scene seemed to fragment into pieces.

  In that bewildering moment, Adam found himself standing in a completely altered reality.

  The familiar surroundings twisted into something unrecognizable, and confusion flooded his mind like an unwelcome tide.

  He looked around in horror. His energy slash—which had been aimed squarely at Brand—had not reached its target. Instead, it had collided with several villagers who stood nearby.

  The blast of white energy had knocked them to the ground; their bodies convulsed as they writhed in pain. Cuts and wounds, fresh and searing, marred their skin.

  The sight of it made Adam's heart sink, each injury a grim reminder of his own unintended harm.

  "What have I done?" Adam muttered, his voice barely audible over the murmuring crowd. His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms tensing as he tried to hold back a surge of guilt and frustration.

  His eyes darted back to the balcony where Brand now stood, a malicious smile curling on the brand's lips.

  Brand's expression was one of wicked amusement, his eyes dancing with a cruel delight as he taunted him.

  "Were you saying something? I wasn't paying attention," Brand mocked, his tone laced with sarcasm and scorn.

  The words dripped with derision, and a bitter smile tugged at his lips as he continued to watch the chaos unfold.

  Adam ignored Brand's taunts. His focus now shifted entirely to the injured villagers scattered on the ground. Their pained faces, contorted with shock and agony, spurred him into action.

  Without wasting another second, he sprinted toward the nearest fallen villager. His heart pounded not only with the rush of adrenaline but also with remorse for the unintended harm caused by his own spell.

  As he neared the injured man, the surrounding villagers backed away, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and hope—fear of further violence, yet hope that Adam might save them.

  Kneeling beside the wounded villager, Adam raised his hand over the group and spoke with clear, resonant authority, "Absolute Heal."

  His voice carried a weight of responsibility as he uttered the words.

  Almost immediately, a soft green light emanated from his hand. The gentle glow spread over the injured villagers like a healing balm, moving steadily from one person to the next.

  The cuts on their bodies began to close rapidly, and the blood that had flowed moments before ceased its journey. Within seconds, the injuries were miraculously healed, leaving no trace of pain or suffering.

  The villagers, who had been writhing in agony just moments before, now began to sit up slowly.

  Their eyes, wide with a mix of disbelief and cautious gratitude, flickered from one to another as they tried to comprehend the sudden change.

  Whispers of thanks mingled with soft cries of relief, though uncertainty still lingered in their expressions.

  For some, the memory of pain was too fresh; for others, the relief was overwhelming.

  Adam, however, did not linger on their reactions. His attention, sharp and unwavering, turned back to Brand. The Mage still stood on the balcony, his eyes twinkling with a sinister amusement as he took in the scene.

  Adam's thoughts churned with a mixture of regret and frustration.

  'This isn't going to be easy,' he thought silently, a bitter edge to his internal monologue.

  He clenched his fists as anger welled up within him. 'I didn't even realize when he cast his spell on me, he muttered under his breath, the weight of his mistake pressing down on him.

  His mind raced with the implications of Brand's abilities; the control the magician held over illusions was unlike anything Adam had experienced before.

  As Adam prepared for his next move, his inner thoughts turned to the stark realization that this was the first time he was truly facing a magician of Brand's caliber.

  He knew, with a sinking certainty, that he had no prior experience in dealing with such formidable illusionary powers.

  The magnitude of the encounter made him question everything he had learned about magic and control. A bitter, introspective question surfaced in his mind—a thought that cut through his frustration like a shard of glass:

  'If ordinary magicians are this powerful, then how terrifying must the higher-ranked magicians at the Magus Tower be,'