The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 127 - 128: The Captive

A gust of wind swept through the mountains, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and distant embers. In the next instant, Hutson stepped forward, arms crossed over his broad chest, his towering frame casting a vast shadow over the trembling apprentice. The mere presence of the warrior-mage was enough to block out the fading light, an immovable force of nature standing between his prey and any hope of escape.

His gaze was cold, devoid of emotion, as he looked down upon the second-tier apprentice. With a mere flicker of thought, the dark bindings unravelled, dissipating like smoke caught in the wind.

The moment the restraints lifted, the apprentice’s legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed onto the cold ground, body convulsing with fear. His breath came in ragged gasps, his voice barely above a whisper.

"P-please... let me go..." His words trembled, thick with the weight of desperation.

Hutson remained unmoved. His voice was as unyielding as stone.

"Your name. Your origin. Your purpose."

The apprentice—Benik—shuddered, his mind racing. "I—I am Benik... from Green Lodge. We were... w-we were just trying to steal a few valuable alchemical ingredients to sell..."

A second figure descended the rocky slope. Felid, having witnessed the entire exchange from above, still had traces of unease in his expression. He had seen it all—the terrifying swiftness with which Hutson had emerged from the shadows, striking down two third-tier apprentices with a single, merciless blow each.

The sheer speed, the raw power... it was beyond anything Felid had ever imagined. Even the most seasoned knights, those who dedicated their lives to the art of physical combat, would be hard-pressed to match such overwhelming strength. Against such might, magical shields were nothing but parchment before a raging inferno.

Had it been him in their place...

Felid swallowed hard, the thought alone sending a cold sweat down his back.

Hutson continued his interrogation. "Were there others?"

Benik frantically shook his head. "No! No, it was just us! Just the three of us!"

Hutson’s gaze remained sharp, piercing through the trembling man. "The war is over. This is a time of truce. Did you come here seeking to ignite a new conflict?"

Benik shook even harder. "N-no! That’s not it! It’s... because the war just ended... both sides lost many people... We thought... the western mountains wouldn’t be as heavily patrolled during this time..."

A poor excuse.

Hutson turned as Felid finally stepped closer. Without another word, Hutson issued a command.

"Take him back. Deliver him to Master Barty."

Their patrol would end early today. An unexpected encounter like this demanded a full report, and more importantly, they needed to bring Benik back. His fate would be no kinder than the two who had already fallen.

Interrogators would pry open his mind, extracting every sliver of useful information before discarding him. Perhaps he would be executed, or worse—used as raw material for necromantic alchemy.

Necromancy.

Hutson thought of the discipline with mild interest. He had yet to study it properly. Unlike conventional spellcraft, necromantic arts required a complete lineage of knowledge, passed down through careful tutelage. These teachings were rare, hidden from common practitioners, and certainly not something one could simply purchase from a spell shop.

To learn, one would need to seek out a true necromancer—perhaps one hidden within the Moonlight Grove.

But that would come later. For now, there was work to be done.

Felid produced a pair of anti-magic shackles and clasped them around Benik’s wrists. The restraints clicked into place, their enchanted tendrils sinking into his flesh. With a sharp hiss, the chains bound not just his body but his very essence, severing his connection to mana.

Benik slumped, his once-trained body now no different from a common man’s.

Hutson, satisfied, turned his attention to the wounded beast nearby.

The mountain fire-bear had been watching them warily, its massive frame tense despite its injuries. It took a hesitant step back as Hutson approached, its molten eyes flickering with both pain and distrust.

Speaking in the tongue of magical beasts, Hutson’s voice softened—though it retained its authority.

"We are mages of the Moonlight Grove. If you trust me, I will heal your wounds."

The fire-bear hesitated. Its gaze flicked toward the two lifeless human bodies nearby, remnants of the brief but brutal battle. But after a long moment of contemplation, the beast gave a slow, measured nod.

Hutson reached into his satchel, drawing forth three vials of Whitefresh elixir. Stepping closer, his protective aura still shimmering faintly around him, he uncorked one of the potions and poured it over the most severe wound along the bear’s abdomen.

The potion reacted instantly, seeping into the wound like liquid silver. The fire-bear shuddered, a deep growl rumbling in its throat, but it did not resist. It understood—this pain was necessary.

The wound began to seal itself, new flesh knitting together beneath the glow of the healing elixir. The bear’s own natural regenerative power, enhanced by magic, would ensure a full recovery.

With methodical precision, Hutson tended to its other wounds, using the remaining potions and securing the injuries with thick bandages.

When his work was done, he stepped back.

"You are free to go now," he told the creature.

The fire-bear met his gaze, intelligence flickering in its molten depths. Then, tilting its head back, it let out a resounding call toward the mountaintop.

A moment later, from within the thick underbrush, a smaller figure emerged. A cub, barely the size of a wolf, bounded down the slope, its bright eyes locking onto its mother. The youngling wasted no time scurrying to her side, peeking out from behind her massive frame, staring at the humans with cautious curiosity.

Hutson gave them a simple nod before turning away.

With a final glance, the fire-bear nudged her cub forward, and together, they vanished into the depths of the forest.

As the patrol made their way back, Hutson turned his thoughts inward, reflecting on the battle.

With the right enhancements, he realized, his ability to close the distance between himself and an opponent rendered most magical apprentices powerless. If he struck from the shadows, even third-tier apprentices stood no chance.

However, if an enemy was already on guard... things would be different.

Still, he had other tools—Blink, allowing him to instantly teleport short distances, and Stride of the Great Hunt, which granted him bursts of explosive speed. With these, even against prepared foes, he could bridge the gap.

Yes.

With more refinement, even stronger enemies would fall before him.

But that was a thought for another day.

For now, they had a prisoner to deliver.

The battle had only reinforced Hutson’s convictions.

Great Dark Sky—that was the path he would take, the power he would claim as his own.

True strength was the only force that reigned supreme.

Hutson had always believed this, but tonight, he had seen it in action once more. Great Dark Sky was a spell of boundless potential, one that could continuously refine his bloodline and fortify his body beyond natural limits. It was precisely what he needed—an unshackled, ever-growing power that would render him unstoppable.

With this in mind, he and Felid returned to the outpost, the night air still carrying the scent of damp earth and lingering embers from the mountain skirmish.

Upon arrival, they wasted no time reporting to Barty.

Of course, they chose to omit certain details—like the way Hutson had cut through their foes with terrifying ease. Instead, they allowed Barty to assume that the two of them had worked together to subdue the enemy.

Barty barely raised an eyebrow at the explanation. His gaze shifted to the captive, Benik, who stood slumped and shackled, drained of all magic and hope.

"Lock him up," Barty ordered, his voice flat. "The Grove has been informed. Someone will come for him tomorrow."

The outpost’s prison was built precisely for this purpose. Its cells, forged from enchanted anti-magic materials, were designed to hold even the most cunning of mages. No spells could be cast within, no energy could be gathered. It was a cage where sorcerers became mere mortals, stripped of their greatest weapon.

With the matter settled, Hutson returned to his patrol duties.

Days passed, then weeks.

Unlike that fateful night, the western mountains remained quiet. No further intrusions, no unexpected battles—just the steady rhythm of routine. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

And so, half a month passed in relative peace.

But Hutson knew better than to grow complacent.

The stillness of the world was merely the calm before another storm.