The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 74 - 75: Departure

"I found it on the only mountain road leading out of Creek Valley Town," Robert said, cautiously watching Hutson’s reaction.

Seeing no immediate shift in Hutson’s expression, he continued, his tone slightly defensive. "I swear, I only picked it up. That sorcerer’s death had nothing to do with me."

Hutson observed Robert’s unease and realized he was misunderstanding the situation.

"I have no connection to that sorcerer," he said evenly. "I don’t even know who he was. I’m not here to blame you for his death."

Relief washed over Robert’s face, and he let out a slow breath.

"Creek Valley Town...?" Hutson murmured. The name was unfamiliar to him.

Turning back to Robert, he asked, "Where exactly is it?"

"It’s east of Stormhold. If you travel on horseback, it takes about three days to reach." Robert spoke with certainty, clearly familiar with the geography.

Hutson’s gaze narrowed. "Is there anything unusual about the place?"

Robert scratched the back of his head in thought. "Not that I know of. It’s just a quiet mountain town. Small population, nothing particularly special about it."

"Any local legends? Ghost stories?" Hutson pressed.

Robert shook his head. "I can’t say for sure. Every town has its share of ghost stories, but I’m not from there. If you want real answers, you’d be better off asking the locals."

Hutson shifted his approach. "Does the Adventurers’ Association have any records on the area?"

Robert nodded. "They should. The Association keeps detailed archives on all nearby settlements."

Hutson rose from his seat. "Stay here. You may need to guide me there."

Robert tensed slightly but nodded.

Word traveled fast within the Association, and Milo Kaller arrived soon after, leading Hutson and Robert to the fourth floor of the Adventurers’ Association—a vast records hall resembling an ancient archive, lined with towering shelves filled with documents.

Milo scanned the cabinets, murmuring, "Creek Valley Town... should be here."

After a few moments of searching, he halted before one of the shelves, pulling out a thick folder of parchment-bound records.

Milo handed it to Hutson. "All recorded information about Creek Valley Town over the past thirty years."

Taking the file, Hutson seated himself at a nearby wooden bench, flipping through the contents.

Creek Valley Town was over two hundred years old.

Its population never exceeded three hundred—a simple, unremarkable village, its history largely mundane. The most severe incidents recorded were landslides and occasional natural disasters. Nothing in the records hinted at supernatural disturbances.

"Could it really be this ordinary...?"

Hutson had initially suspected that Creek Valley Town might be linked to the cursed doll, possibly serving as a source of magical resources or rare arcane materials. In such places, strange occurrences were inevitable—what commoners would call "hauntings" or "omens."

But according to these records, it was nothing more than an isolated mountain settlement.

Hutson closed the file, deep in thought.

Turning to Milo, he asked, "Do you know anything about the town?"

Milo pondered for a moment before shaking his head.

"Apologies, but I don’t. As far as I know, it’s just a regular small town."

Hutson’s eyes sharpened.

"A sorcerer died there recently. Were you aware?"

Milo’s brows furrowed in genuine surprise. "A sorcerer? I’ve heard no such thing."

Hutson glanced at Robert. "He’s the one who found the body."

Robert nodded quickly. "I saw the corpse on the mountain road outside the town. He was clutching that cursed doll. I assumed he was a sorcerer based on his robes, but I can’t be certain.

After that, I never heard any rumors about it—so maybe he wasn’t a sorcerer after all."

Milo’s expression darkened. "That’s strange. No reports of a body ever reached the Association."

He turned to Robert, his tone sharper. "When did you find it?"

"About two months ago."

Milo immediately shook his head. "That’s impossible. If someone had died there two months ago, we would have heard about it."

The Adventurers’ Association was known for its far-reaching intelligence network. Even the most isolated villages reported unusual deaths, monster sightings, or strange occurrences—especially a small town with only one road in and out. If a body had been found, someone in Creek Valley Town would have noticed and reported it.

But no one had.

Hutson’s eyes glimmered. "So, we finally have an anomaly."

Was this a mere cover-up? A murder someone had erased? Or was this tied to something far more arcane and sinister?

Either way, it was time to uncover the truth.

Hutson rose to his feet, his decision made. "Robert, you’re coming with me. Lead the way—we’re heading to Creek Valley Town."

Robert stiffened but gave a curt nod. "Understood." He dared not refuse.

Hutson had already committed the town’s records to AI chip, yet nothing of real value had surfaced. Still, something about this place warranted an investigation.

After returning the documents, he descended the stairs, where Sid waited at the entrance.

"I’ll be heading out for a while," Hutson informed him. "You should return for now."

Sid straightened. "My lord, should I not accompany you?" He was eager to prove himself, to be of use.

But Hutson shook his head. "You’re too weak. If anything happens, I won’t have time to look after you." His words were blunt, leaving no room for debate.

Sid scratched his head awkwardly before relenting. "Then I’ll head back, my lord. Safe travels."

Milo had anticipated their departure, preparing two strong warhorses along with rations and water for the road ahead. Though both Hutson and Robert were formidable in combat, basic supplies were still a necessity.

Wasting no time, Hutson mounted his horse and spurred it toward the city gates. Robert followed without question.

Within Stormhold’s walls, they kept a steady pace, mindful of the crowded streets. But the moment they cleared the gates, Hutson drove his heels into the horse’s flank, urging it into a full gallop.

The landscape blurred past them, stone roads giving way to rugged wilderness.

Before long, the towering mountains of the east loomed ahead, marking their descent into untamed lands.

As the terrain grew rougher, their swift pace slowed. The road twisted through winding cliffs and shadowed valleys, forcing them into a careful rhythm of climbing steep ascents and descending narrow paths.

Here, in the wilds, there was no law but survival.

Two days later, Creek Valley Town came into view.

The town was small, nestled within the embrace of towering peaks, barely a speck against the vast wilderness.

A single mountain path wound its way through the rocky cliffs—a narrow passage known as One Line Sky for the sheer stone walls that loomed on either side, leaving only a sliver of sky above.

It was along this road that Robert pulled his horse to a stop, his expression shifting.

"This is the place," he said, dismounting.

Hutson followed, stepping onto the trail. The sound of chittering filled the air—a squirrel perched on a nearby branch, watching them with beady, unblinking eyes.

"Shut up," Robert snapped. His irritation was clear as he barked at the creature.

The squirrel startled at the sudden noise, its tiny frame darting across the branches before vanishing into the treetops.

Hutson ignored the exchange, scanning the earth beneath his boots.

Robert took a breath, his tone more measured as he continued. "It was here."

He pointed to a spot on the road, his eyes darkening with the memory.

"That night, I found him here. He was lying on his back, eyes wide open—dead. But even in death, he refused to let go of that damned doll."

Robert gestured to his hands, mimicking the effort it had taken. "I had to pry it from his fingers—it was like he had died clutching it with every last ounce of strength."

Hutson remained silent, staring at the ground where the sorcerer had fallen.

Something about this place felt wrong.

And they were about to find out why.