Warlock Of The Magus World FF: Dark Lord

"You don't need to think so much and hurt your stupid brain." Ourin sneered, arms crossed. "Don't forget what happened last time. I am not requesting you, I am commanding you, give your magic crystals otherwise I will show you, your place!"

Leylin didn't move. He simply looked up, meeting Ourin's gaze with cold indifference.

"My place?" he repeated, his tone getting heavy. "And what place would that be?"

Ourin's smirk widened. "At the bottom." His voice turned darker. "Hand over your magic crystals, Leylin. Now."

Leylin let the words hang in the air.

Then he laughed—a slow, deliberate chuckle.

Ourin's expression darkened. "Something funny?"

Leylin exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "You're a fool." His tone was flat, unimpressed. "You think because you and your pack of mutts jumped me once in the wilderness, you can do the same here?"

Ourin took a step forward, but Leylin didn't flinch.

Instead, he spoke again, voice turning cold and sharp:

"Tell me, Ourin. Do you think the Black-Robed Knights would just stand by if you attacked me here?"

For a moment, there was silence.

The Black-Robed Knights—the enforcers of the Magi, their mere presence enough to keep order in the camp. They had ignored the scuffle last time because it happened far from their sight. But here? Right under their noses?

Ourin snorted, but there was an edge of hesitation in his eyes. "They don't care about you. Last time, they almost let you die."

Leylin tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing sharper.

"You're absolutely right," he admitted. "They don't care about me. But do you know what else they don't care about?" His voice dropped to a whisper, laced with icy amusement.

"Your lives."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Ourin's face.

Leylin leaned in slightly, voice calm, measured. "You beat me once when we were away from the camp. The knights couldn't be bothered to investigate a fight between some brats. But if you attack me now, in their presence? Right in their territory?"

He let the words settle.

"The Magi may not care whether I live or die," Leylin continued, voice turning almost mocking, "but to disrespect them? To fight like common street thugs under their noses? That would be a slight against their honor."

He saw it then—the hesitation creeping into Ourin's eyes.

Leylin pressed on, voice dropping lower, sharper.

"They would kill you. All of you. Without a second thought."

Silence.

The fire crackled in the background, the only sound in the thickening tension.

Ourin's fingers curled into a fist, his jaw tight. He wanted to dismiss Leylin's words, to call his bluff—but he couldn't. He knew, deep down, that Leylin might be right and he didn't want bet with his own life to prove him wrong.

Leylin smiled faintly. "So I ask you, Ourin. Do you really dare?"

The silence stretched.

Then—a growl of frustration.

Ourin's eyes burned with barely restrained fury, but he did not move. His gang shuffled uncomfortably behind him, their earlier confidence crumbling.

Finally, Ourin spat on the ground.

"You're dead, bitch," he snarled. "I'll make your life a living hell."

Leylin simply leaned back, unconcerned.

"Try."

Ourin glared at him for a few seconds longer—then turned on his heel and stalked away, his gang following behind, muttering curses under their breath.

Leylin watched them go, his expression unreadable.

Ourin and his lackeys disappeared into the darkness, their retreat a silent admission of defeat. He didn't let his guard down—they would try again. But not here, not now.

As he exhaled, a familiar voice cut through the night. "That was… impressive."

Leylin turned.

George Borunin, a tall, broad-shouldered youth with an easy confidence in his stance. Unlike most of the other noble children, George had the bearing of a natural leader— his movements carrying the weight of someone who expected to be respected.

And behind him? His own small group of followers.

Leylin gave a faint, unreadable smile. "Was it?"

George chuckled. "Oh, absolutely. Ourin's an idiot, but he's not that much of an idiot. You backed him into a corner with just words, and he backed down. I doubt he'll forget it anytime soon."

Leylin shrugged, feigning indifference. "I simply reminded him of reality. Nothing more. And even if I were wrong, and he did attack me, you my good friend wouldn't have watched silently."

George studied him for a moment, then smirked. George had the strength of a preparatory Knight, and with his leadership status amongst this bunch of nobility youths, if things were to take an ugly turn he could have easily settled Ourin.

George replied, "But you handled that well. You have a sharp mind."

Leylin gave a small chuckle. "You flatter me."

George laughed. "I'm just stating facts."

There was a pause before George spoke again, his tone turning more serious.

"Listen, Leylin. You've clearly got a brain—and your strength is also not bad. But on your own?" He gestured vaguely. "You're a target."

Leylin raised an eyebrow. "And you're suggesting…?"

George grinned. "Join my Furze Alliance. With me."

Leylin remained silent.

George leaned in slightly. "The way things work here is simple—either you're strong, or you're with the strong. You proved you can handle yourself, but why fight alone? Ourin's an idiot, but he's persistent. He'll come after you again. And next time? He won't be so careless."

"I set up this small federation to guarantee that every single acolyte from our Furze Alliance would safely reach the academy and become a well-respected Lord Magus."

Leylin glanced at the group behind George. They weren't weak— each one stronger than the average noble in camp.

"You want me in your alliance," Leylin stated, more than asked.

George smirked. "I am the Borunin heir. I've been leading people since I could walk. And I'm offering you a spot—because I like competent people."

Leylin considered it, he needed allies. That much was certain. Strength alone wouldn't be enough to navigate the power struggles of the camp. Not when he was still months away from the academy.

And George? He was strong. He had influence. And—most importantly—he wasn't a fool.

After a long pause, Leylin smiled, "Very well. I accept."

George grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good. You won't regret it."

Leylin nodded, tilting his head down. As he gave his agreement, a dark, sly glint flickered in his eyes—gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Leylin had accepted George's invitation, trust was another matter entirely.

George was pragmatic—he valued power and intelligence, nothing more. If not for Leylin proving himself with words and previously demonstrating his strength in a spar, George wouldn't have given him a second thought. He hadn't cared for the original Leylin, after all.

Leylin knew better than to mistake camaraderie for security.

Strength dictated relationships in this world. He had seen it in Ourin's gang, and he saw it now in George's alliance. These were not friends, but predators circling one another, gauging who would last the longest.

I'll use them.

He would play along, build his footing, and make himself indispensable. Until he was strong enough to stand alone—until he no longer needed them.

"Right Leylin! We're going to organize a barbeque banquet; it'll be for our Furze Alliance. Do you want to join?"

George extended an invitation.

Leylin internally grunted as he nodded to George's invitation. With now his identity as a noble from the Furze Alliance, he could only join this circle.

___

Next evening

The scent of roasting meat filled the air as flames crackled in the makeshift firepit. The barbecue banquet was in full swing.

Some nobles have secretly brought dried meat with them and some liquor. Leylin did raise an eyebrow looking at teens drinking but eventually didn't care, such is the tradition of this world. Apparently they are considered adults but to him they were merely kids pretending to be adults.

Soon laughter, conversation, and the occasional clinking of wooden mugs echoed through the camp.

Leylin sat at the edge of the gathering, an easygoing expression on his face as he observed the Furze Alliance in its element.

George had taken it upon himself to introduce him to the rest of the members—noble children, each with their own ambitions and expectations.

Leylin, however, was not interested in them. And neither were they in him.

Introductions were exchanged, nods given, but no more. These were people who judged worth by strength and influence, and Leylin, in their eyes, was still unproven.

Which suited him just fine. Leylin wished to engage with others as less as possible, his eagerness for magic and current predicament has made him very irritable but he unfortunately have to keep it all under grasp hidden from everyone, hiding himself in fake smiles and polite gestures, thankfully he had good practice of it from Hogwarts.

The conversation drifted between idle gossip—whispers of Black-Robed Knights, the rumored alliances between noble houses, scandals, and noble couples entangled in secret affairs.

Leylin listened, his expression calm but uninterested. None of it mattered.

Then—his ears caught something that did.

"—the Great Plains of Death," George said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to pull attention.

Leylin's fingers twitched. His eyes, which had remained half-lidded and indifferent, sharpened ever so slightly.

The Great Plains of Death, that was new. And it sounded important.

Leylin straightened subtly, for the first time, truly paying attention to the meeting.

George went on to explain about the dread and rumors of Great Plains of Death. This piece of plains was filled with all sorts of dangers, and had always been a restricted zone for humans!

'That sounds....'Leylin almost let out a sinister smile listening about the tragedies of The Great Plains of Death.

Rumor was that the plains were filled with all sorts of beasts; even the most ferocious bandits didn't dare to enter the plains. Every part of the plains was filled with corpses of mercenaries, adventurers, and travelers!

Right now, the Magus acolyte aspirants-filled travelling party was about to pass through this Great Plains of Death, to the coastline.

___

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