Chapter 8: Tensions at the Threshold  

There was no other reason for Jeff’s grave expression.  

“It’s fine,” Gaon replied casually, masking his thoughts.  

Has Gardion’s prestige fallen so far?  

The Gardion Tower had been the continent’s greatest and most formidable magic tower, far surpassing others. Its dominance was so absolute that even rival towers rarely dared to challenge it openly. 

Those that did were crushed without exception.  

Yet, like the Varta Empire’s fall to a kingdom, Gardion’s standing had clearly plummeted. 

Otherwise, how could the Fire Tower and Rud Tower maintain branches in Tren? 

More telling was Jeff’s concern—not for those towers, but for Gaon.  

Gardion’s situation was dire.  

What happened?  

Gaon’s influence wasn’t the sole reason for Gardion’s supremacy; it had been unmatched even without his direct involvement. What could have eroded its status in just fifty years?  

“By the way,” Gaon said, breaking his silence, “do you know the levels of those two towers? Even just their branch leaders?”  

“The Fire Tower’s branch leader reached the 4th Circle a few months ago,” Jeff replied. 

“The Rud Tower’s leader hit the 4th Circle five years back. Rumor has it they’re a 4th Circle Master, aiming for the 5th within three years.”  

“I see,” Gaon nodded, understanding.  

No need to worry.  

At the 2nd Circle, Gaon’s power already rivaled a 4th Circle mage—not an average one, but his own past self at that level. 

Now, at the 3rd Circle, he was confident he could hold his own against 5th Circle mages. 

A clash with either branch leader posed no threat.  

“Hey!” 

Jeff, catching sight of a hill ahead, grinned broadly. 

“We’re almost there—just over that hill.”  

Gaon’s anticipation grew. 

How much had Tren Village changed?  

Crossing the hill, the village came into view, and Gaon couldn’t help but marvel.  

Wow…  

Tren was massive, unrecognizable from the modest village he remembered.  

At the entrance, a guard recognized Jeff. 

“Hey, Jeff! Where’s Wislin? Who’s this kid—”  

“Dallen, watch your mouth!” Jeff cut him off urgently, glancing at Gaon.  

Dallen paled, bowing deeply. “S-sorry!”  

“It’s fine,” Gaon said, unfazed. He did look like an eleven-year-old, after all.  

Following Jeff past the gate, Gaon entered the village.  

“This way,” Jeff said, still wary of Gaon’s mood, leading him to the Slayers branch.  

Soon, they arrived at a three-story building.  

“Here we are!” Jeff said with a faint smile, opening the door.  

Gaon scanned the first floor. A shop and a tavern?  

The left side held a counter selling goods, the right served drinks, and tables in the center hosted patrons sipping beverages.  

“Jeff?” A middle-aged man drinking beer at a nearby table looked up, puzzled.  

“Branch Leader!” Jeff’s exclamation revealed the man’s identity—Garga, the Slayers Tren branch leader.  

Garga glanced at Gaon curiously, then back at Jeff.  

“This is Gaon,” Jeff introduced. “He saved my life.”  

“Your lifesaver? What happened?” Garga frowned.  

“I’ll report later,” Jeff said. “Gaon has agreed to sell us the materials headquarters requested.”  

Garga’s eyes widened, shifting to Gaon, then back to Jeff with a meaningful look.  

Jeff understood. 

“Gaon, may I speak with the branch leader briefly?”  

Gaon nodded silently.  

“I’ll be quick,” Jeff said. 

“Jerina! A Slay Tea, on my tab!”  

He and Garga headed to the second floor.  

Gaon approached the shop counter, where various items, including sorcery-infused artifacts, were displayed.  

“Looking for something?” a sorcerer at the counter asked.  

Gaon pointed to some elixirs. “How much for those?”  

“Well…” The sorcerer hesitated. 

“They’re on display, but they’re not for sale. They were commissioned.”  

“I see,” Gaon nodded. 

Someone had already claimed them.  

At that moment, his senses sharpened, and he turned toward the entrance. 

Several figures in purple robes, openly radiating mana, entered. 

Their robes bore identical emblems.  

Rud Tower.  

Gaon recognized the insignia. 

Why were they here? 

Jeff had said their branch was far from the Slayers’ outpost. 

A group visit meant they had a purpose.  

Jerina, the tavern keeper, greeted the mages with a bow. 

Gaon turned back to the counter, browsing the items.  

Then, the mage with the strongest mana—likely 3rd Circle—approached, eyeing the commissioned elixirs with satisfaction.  

“Finally done,” he muttered.  

Gaon realized the Rud Tower had ordered them.  

The mage’s gaze shifted to Gaon’s pouch, and a bad feeling crept in.  

Sure enough, the mage stepped closer. 

“Kid, want to sell that pouch? I’ll pay well.”  

Gaon turned, noting the greed in the mage’s eyes.  

He recognizes the emblem. 

Not your average 3rd Circle mage.  

The pouch was no ordinary item—it was an artifact crafted by Kerhen, the continent’s greatest alchemist. 

Kerhen marked his creations with unique emblems, not his workshop’s symbol, categorizing them as Masterpiece, Supreme, High, Mid, or Low Grade. 

Gaon’s pouch bore a Mid-Grade emblem—something a typical 3rd Circle mage wouldn’t recognize. 

This mage likely had another identity.  

“How much?” Gaon asked bluntly.  

The mage frowned at his informal tone but quickly smoothed his expression. 

“Two thousand gold. You could buy a better spatial artifact with that.”  

Gaon smirked. 

He’d been checking the counter to gauge the market, not to buy. 

Prices hadn’t changed much in fifty years, and two thousand gold for a Kerhen Mid-Grade artifact was laughable—even twenty thousand wouldn’t tempt him.  

“Not selling? This isn’t an offer you get every day,” the mage said, his tone hardening.  

“Nope,” Gaon replied.  

“What? You little—”  

Meanwhile, upstairs, Garga gritted his teeth. 

“Those adventurer guild bastards! They charge a fortune and send scum like that?”  

“We need to protest formally,” Jeff said, voice thick with anger. 

“For Wislin’s sake.”  

“Damn right. If the guild brushes this off, I’ll tear them apart!” Garga took a deep breath, suppressing his rage, then asked, “Who’s this Gaon guy?”  

Jeff had called him a lifesaver, but his reaction seemed excessive. 

More importantly, Gaon’s presence felt dangerous, like someone not to be trifled with.  

“He’s a mage from Gardion Tower,” Jeff said.  

“What? Gardion?” Garga’s eyes widened in shock.  

“I told him about the Fire and Rud Tower branches,” Jeff added quickly. “He said it’s fine.”  

“Fine? It’s not fine, you idiot!”  

“Why?” Jeff asked, confused.  

“The Rud Tower’s deputy branch leader is coming today…”  

“What?!”  

“At four.”  

Jeff checked the time—3:55. Five minutes left, but the deputy could arrive early.  

Knock, knock!  

“Deputy Branch Leader Rapir from Rud Tower is here,” Jerina called.  

Garga and Jeff exchanged glances. No time to waste.  

“Take him to the reception room. I’ll handle the deputy,” Garga said.  

“Yes, to Reception Room 3,” Jeff replied.  

They hurried downstairs, but their faces darkened upon reaching the first floor. 

They’d hoped for no trouble, but it had already begun.  

Gaon and Rapir faced each other, the air crackling with tension.  

“Not selling? This isn’t an offer you get every day,” Rapir repeated.  

“Why’s this kid talking so disrespectfully?” Rapir growled, mana surging.  

Garga frowned. 

This could escalate, and the Slayers would get caught in the crossfire. 

He had no intention of getting involved in a tower feud.  

Channeling sorcery into his voice, he bellowed, “What’s going on here?!”