Weapon seller in the world of magic

A moment later, they stood on the edge of the street, nearly seventy meters from Wester Silver’s residence.

Arceus swayed slightly but managed to remain standing.

The patrolling guards were far enough away not to notice them immediately, but the street was lined with lamp posts, and one glance in their direction would expose everything.

Noah acted without hesitation.

He summoned the attack helicopter from Kiara’s inventory.

The massive machine appeared silently like a beast emerging from thin air, its dark body gleaming under the moon.

Arceus stared, his mouth falling open.

Noah opened the door.

”Inside.”

Arceus obeyed.

The moment Noah took the pilot’s seat, he pressed a black button.

Stealth activated.

The helicopter vanished from sight as though swallowed by the night itself.

The skill consumed one percent of Kiara’s ether energy every second, but it rendered the aircraft invisible to anyone at the seven-star rank or below.

One hundred seconds.

That was the window they had.

The rotors hummed softly as Noah guided the invisible helicopter through the night sky at its highest speed, and before the skill expired, he already managed to land on the roof of Nexus Weapon Store.

Even then, the journey was not yet over.

Two guards stood at the entrance to the training grounds below.

Fortunately, Kiara had anticipated this.

Inside the building, she had already opened the rear window, the one that was never used because of the chicken farm behind the store. The place constantly smelled of feathers, grain, and droppings, while roosters announced their existence with irritating confidence from dawn to dusk.

Tonight, necessity outweighed discomfort.

Kiara stood waiting by the window.

She reached upward and helped Arceus climb inside.

Noah followed and quietly closed the window.

For several moments, Arceus stood bent over, drawing deep breaths.

His heart still pounded from the escape.

His legs felt weak.

And yet, beneath the fear and exhaustion, there was a strange sense of freedom, like a prisoner who had stepped outside his cell and found the stars still shining.

Looking at Kiara, he said softly, ”I never thought I would leave my home like this. Truly... if not for you and Noah, I do not know what would have become of me. I’m truly grateful, Miss Kiara.”

Kiara handed him a ceramic water bottle.

The cool surface pressed into his trembling hands.

”We can talk tomorrow,” she said in a calm voice. ”For now, drink some water and rest. Noah will show you your room.”

Arceus nodded gratefully.

Soon, Kiara returned to her own room.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts replaying everything Noah had done tonight, from infiltrating Holywell District to carrying Arceus safely out under the nose of House Silver.

She let out a quiet sigh.

”I should buy Noah some new books tomorrow,” she murmured, remembering how diligently he had carried out the mission.

Then Arceus’s grateful smile surfaced in her memory.

Without realizing it, a genuine smile appeared on her own face.

”All’s well that ends well.”

In another room that looked almost as grand as a noble suite, Arceus stood in awe.

The furnishings were elegant.

The bedding was soft.

The carved wardrobe and polished floor gleamed even under dim light.

”This room is even grander than the one I had in our old mansion,” he whispered.

Noah handed him a fresh set of clothes.

They were slightly ill-fitting, loose in some places and tight in others, but Arceus accepted them without complaint.

After bathing, he lay on the unfamiliar bed.

The sheets were cool against his skin.

The room was silent.

Yet sleep did not come.

Perhaps it was because he was in a stranger’s house. Or perhaps, he was in a girl’s house.

Or perhaps it was because, for the first time in many days, he was no longer trapped.

Staring at the ceiling in the darkness, he couldn’t help but think of Kiara.

When he had felt abandoned by everyone else, she had reached out her hand.

A faint smile touched his lips.

He whispered to himself, ”Kiara is truly different from any woman I know.”

*

The next morning, the atmosphere at Wester Silver’s residence in Holywell District was so tense that even the servants moved as though they were walking across thin ice over a frozen lake.

In the main courtyard, eight guards knelt on the cold stone floor with their heads lowered so deeply that their foreheads almost touched the ground.

Their backs were drenched in sweat despite the cool morning air, and not one of them dared to breathe too loudly.

Before them, Wester Silver paced back and forth like a caged tiger, each step sharp and measured, the hem of his robe swaying with restrained fury.

In his hand was a folded letter.

The paper had been crumpled by his grip, though he had already read its contents several times.

It was a letter written by Arceus Silver himself.

The words were simple and respectful, but every line felt like a needle to Wester’s pride.

Arceus had written that he did not wish to marry into House Drake or Miss Jennifer. As he lacked the strength to openly oppose his father, he had therefore chosen to leave home rather than submit to his fate.

There was no strong accusation.

No bitterness.

No dramatic farewell.

Just a quiet declaration from a son who had chosen to walk away.

If this had happened a month ago, Wester might have sat in silence and wondered whether his son had eaten, whether he was frightened, and whether the world outside his protection would treat him kindly. After all, he did raise Arceus with care, as Arceus is not only his sole heir but also weak since birth.

But Wester Silver of today was not the same man.

Ever since Kiara had destroyed his residence, humbled him before the public, and exposed the cracks beneath his authority, something inside him had hardened.

His thoughts no longer flowed like water around his family.

They had become iron.

And iron, once forged in humiliation, did not bend easily.

He stopped walking.

His gaze swept across the kneeling guards like a drawn blade.

”Tell me,” he said, his voice low and cold, ”who assisted my son in escaping?”

A faint layer of ether energy spread around him.

The pressure rolled through the courtyard like an invisible storm.

The guards trembled.

Some bit their lips until they bled.

Others pressed their palms harder against the floor.

Not one of them spoke.

Wester clenched the letter tighter.

His anger was not directed solely at Arceus.

His son’s departure threatened to destroy everything he had carefully arranged.

If word spread that the heir of House Silver had fled to avoid marriage, then rumors would rise like crows from a battlefield. The alliance with House Drake would be questioned. Other noble houses would whisper that Wester Silver could not even govern his own household.

A kingdom may survive an external enemy, he thought, but many dynasties have fallen because of laughter behind closed doors.

He needed Arceus back within three days.

Not because he missed his son.

Not because he worried.

But because reputation, once cracked, spreads like a fracture through glass.

He exhaled slowly.

Killing these elite guards would satisfy his anger for a moment, but it would also weaken House Silver at a time when every strong hand mattered.

The arrow had already left the bow.

Breaking the bow now would serve no purpose.

”I will forgive everyone involved,” Wester said at last, his tone deceptively calm. ”Step forward and confess, and this matter will end here.”

The guards exchanged frightened glances.

None moved.

They truly knew nothing.

That silence, innocent though it was, only deepened Wester’s frustration.

For a few moments, he said nothing.

Then, as though a new idea had taken root, he pointed at one of the kneeling men.

”You. Stand up.”

The chosen guard, a middle-aged five-star rank expert from a branch family, jolted in shock.

”Me?”

Instead of rising, he bowed lower.

”Please show mercy, my lord. I swear upon the heavens, I do not know how the young master escaped.”

Wester’s eyes narrowed.

”Did I ask for your excuses?” he snapped. ”Stand up and come forward. I have a task for you.”

The guard hurried to his feet and stumbled to the side.

Wester selected seven more.

Three were five-star experts.

Five were four-star experts.

All of them stood together, pale and trembling.

Then Wester turned his attention to the head of security, a peak six-star expert and his distant cousin, Talcred Silver.

”Talcred,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of disappointment, ”you have failed me most of all. While my son was leaving this house, you were asleep.”

Talcred Silver lowered his head.

”I apologize, Lord Wester. I was careless.”

Wester waved a dismissive hand. ”What is done is done. Now, I need you to do one thing for me.”

Talcred looked up.

”Yes, my lord.”

Wester’s gaze shifted to the eight selected guards. ”Beat them.”