Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

Kenelm Bowman deeply looked at the raven-haired youth, his eyes flickering with conflicting emotions.

He couldn’t fathom how a young man who carried himself like a drunken vagabond could possess such profound understanding of the philosophy of the Way.

In fact, he himself had known Berger for a very long time, but never knew the gnome to be well-versed in this esoteric philosophy.

So, just how was Adam able to learn about such things then?

Given that he was only a young man no older than thirty-five years old, it was quite astounding that his comprehension of the Way was deeper than aged men centuries older than him.

Just where did he learn it?

Bowman thought to himself as he deeply observed Adam.

Suddenly, he noticed something peculiar. Despite the raven-haired youth downing cup after cup of wine, his eyes remained clear as crystal.

In other words, they gleamed with unmistakable sobriety!

Bowman’s eyes narrowed.

What a crafty little bugger, he thought with a hint of amusement.

He’s definitely someone raised by that gnome…

However, this still didn’t change the fact that Adam had arrived quite late at this gathering. And that was something Bowman, a traditional and conservative Magus, would not accept.

While everyone silently tried to understand the meaning behind Adam’s seemingly casual words, Kenelm Bowman broke the silence.

Although he was no longer as furious as before, he still had an extremely stern look on his face.

The air in the chamber was once again drowned in heavy oppressiveness. The Mana Liquefaction magi had begun sweating again. Most of them had even begun wondering if they should even be here.

Having thirteen Mana Vortex Magi in one room was already oppressive enough, but now Magus Bowman was proactively making the atmosphere more tense.

But little did they know, most of this oppressive weight, this crushing heaviness, was directed solely at Adam.

What they were experiencing were merely faint side-effects, echoes of the true pressure bearing down on him.

”Now, tell me, boy,” said Bowman in a low and heavy voice. ”What took you so long? You better have a good reason.”

Adam saw the faint ripples being produced on the surface of the wine in his cup. He arched an eyebrow, then turned to him.

This palpable pressure… it would appear that he has participated in numerous battles with his life on the line, he thought to himself.

It wasn’t magic. This pressure was something far more primal.

This was the aura of a man who had stood at the edge of death more times than he could count. It was a presence honed through countless life-or-death battles.

Bowman’s very being radiated the echo of those struggles. This was no ordinary individual. This was someone who had lived through hell and carried a piece of it everywhere he went.

Others may or may not be able to tell, but this Magus… Kenelm Bowman was the most dangerous man in this room!

Even Adam’s own presence wasn’t as sharp as Bowman’s. After all, this was something that was only born out of countless experiences and the vicissitudes of life.

He was only thirty-five years of age.

However, that didn’t mean the pressure would affect him. No, of course not. He was someone who trained his body under the effects of six times gravity!

Thus, he simply brushed it off as air.

This boy… Kenelm Bowman’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

The next moment, he retrieved his aura. Suddenly, the Mana Liquefaction Magi felt as if a rope had been loosened around their necks.

Yet, the pressure hadn’t completely vanished. It merely lingered in the air, coiled and waiting, like a storm ready to explode at any moment.

”Speak, boy!” Bowman growled. ”I don’t have any more patience.”

Another important thing to note was that while Bowman spoke, no one interrupted or even attempted to speak.

There was a silent, mutual understanding among all the Twilight Wardens: Kenelm Bowman was their leader.

Adam also realized this.

He turned to Bowman and, with the same smile, muttered, ”I was investigating the Cult of Bones.”

Hearing his words, the angry old man’s eyes narrowed even further. The other Magi at the table shifted in their seats, all of them fully focusing on the raven-haired youth’s next words.

”What about them?” Bowman’s voice was cold.

Adam didn’t reply immediately. He first scanned the Magi sitting at the table, then the Magi standing by the walls.

Secretly, he had already activated his Sphere of Resonance. Every change in expression, shift in body language, or even a hint of negative emotion would not be able to hide from his enhanced senses.

If there were Cult spies hidden within this very room, then now was the time to root them out.

Turning his attention back to Bowman, Adam continued, ”I’m sure you and everyone else here have heard about the murder of Hayes Ballard.”

The elderly Magus nodded, and so did the rest of the people in the room.

”Yes, the rumor is he was attacked by the remnants of Umbra Thieves,” Bowman said evenly. ”Therefore, by association, the Cult is also connected to his murder.”

Adam chuckled coldly. ”Ah, yes, the Cult is connected to him. But it’s not in the way you think.”

There it was!

His eyes narrowed.

Sudden blinking and the subtle shift in weight from his left foot to his right, he thought.

While his eyes were on Bowman, Adam had already noticed a singular person exhibiting extremely faint signs of restlessness within his Sphere of Resonance.

”What do you mean?” Bowman asked coldly. He had a vague idea what Adam was referring to… but he didn’t like that theory one bit.

The raven-haired youth calmly poured himself another cup of wine. Then, he said, ”Hayes Ballard was working with the Cult of Bones. No, to be more precise, it is his father… the Councilor of Ravenfell, Ives Ballard, who is working with them.”

At once, the chamber erupted into a tempest of shocked whispers. Meanwhile, the Twilight Wardens had grim expressions on their faces.

”Magus Constantine, are you certain of this?”

”I hope you realize the weight of this statement!”

”How did you come about this knowledge?”

”You must tell us all the details, Magus Constantine!”

Adam ignored all those questions directed at him and slowly poured the wine into his cup.

Amidst the commotion in the room, his senses honed in on a middle-aged man with an unremarkable appearance.

The jaw, yes, unmistakably clenched, Adam thought.

There it is, the faint, telltale sound of gritting teeth.

Anxiety, he noted silently.

The man’s eyes were shifting. Not in astonishment like the others. No, this was different.

Calculated. Nervous. Searching.

You’re not reacting, you’re assessing, Adam thought.

He then raised the flat cup and leisurely took a sip of wine. His dark eyes flickered with a dangerous light, and he finally dropped the hammer.

”Oh, and by the way,” he added casually. ”I have also come across the leader of the Cult. He is hiding somewhere in the city as we speak.”

And there it was…

The man with the unremarkable appearance clenched his fists without realizing it and involuntarily swallowed hard.

A bead of sweat forming just above the brow sealed it.

Adam’s lips curled ever so slightly.

Got you.