The teenage girl stood completely frozen, her wide eyes locked onto the smiling young man before her.
Within a single fraction of a second, France was mesmerized by his looks and effortless temperament.
Draped in a plain, snow-white robe, Leylin possessed a devilishly handsome face, his perfectly toned muscles subtly visible through the clean lines of the fabric.
He radiated a serene demeanor capable of intoxicating even the most guarded of women. To a mere teenager with a fragile, romantic heart, the sight was overwhelming.
Leylin standing before her with an enchanting smile on his lips against the picturesque backdrop of the white flower bed, France felt her heart begin to beat rapidly.
Literal stars began to form within her eyes. Although her status as a city lord's daughter meant she had crossed paths with many charming, high-born men in her life, none could ever come close to the perfection Leylin embodied in her mind.
Breaking out of her self-induced trance, France flushed a deep crimson.
She forced her voice to remain soft, adopting a charming and polite melody as she stepped forward.
"Greetings, friend. My name is France Greg, of the Greg Family—daughter of Ramon Greg, the City Lord of Linthin town. May I ask who it is I have the honor of meeting?"
As she spoke, she gracefully performed a traditional noble bow, her entire aura radiating a warm, welcoming vibe toward the stranger.
Leylin, however maintained his calm smile, showing no immediate intention of answering her inquiry.
Because traditional noble etiquette strictly dictated that a lady ought to remain in her salute until the gesture was formally acknowledged and returned by the opposing party, France was forced to maintain her small bow, waiting in silence.
Watching the awkward exchange unfold her two guards grew increasingly restless.
Initially, they had refrained from interfering in their lady's interaction with the stranger. But as the seconds ticked by and Leylin continued to stand there like a statue, completely ignoring her formal greeting, their pride was pushed over the edge. To them, his absolute silence was a display of dishonorable, contemptuous behavior directly insulting their ladyship's lineage.
Shing!
The sharp ring of drawn steel cut through the quiet air of the hills. Eta stepped forward, his face contorted with a mixture of intense, unbridled anger and deep-seated personal jealousy.
He had clearly witnessed the star-struck change in France's expression the moment her eyes fell upon Leylin, a reaction that ruthlessly ripped his own childhood dreams of romance to pieces.
His heart was burning with a painful blend of hatred and utter helplessness, and he needed a target to vent his frustration upon.
"How dare you blatantly disrespect my lady!" Eta roared, his voice incredibly overbearing and spiteful as he leveled the tip of his longsword directly at Leylin's chest. "I will give you one single chance to bow before—no, kneel before her feet and beg for her absolute forgiveness, or else suffer the consequences!"
If the stranger standing before him had been adorned with the crest of a noble house, Eta would have been forced to swallow his bitter jealousy and keep his mouth shut.
But as his eyes swept over Leylin's snow-white garments, he found absolutely no lineage symbol, family crest, or tracking mark stamped onto the fabric.
Even though the white robe was undeniably pretty, its lack of heraldry made it appear subpar and unrecognized within the local hierarchy.
Confident that he was merely dealing with a commoner or a minor traveler, the young knight decided to unleash his full rage.
If he had known the truth, he wouldn't have dared to lift a single finger.
In reality, Leylin had completely suppressed his internal spiritual force undulations, masking his energy signature so perfectly that any casual observer would mistake him for a regular, mundane human.
Otherwise if a Rank 3 Magus chose to let even a fraction of his unmitigated energy leak into the atmosphere, his mere presence would cause ordinary mortals to instantly faint.
A single unshielded glance from him could easily fry the brains of low-tier warriors on the spot, such was the world-shaking aura of a god among men.
"Eta, stop this instant!" France shrieked, her voice full of sudden horror as her guard advanced.
Although she was deeply slighted by Leylin's silent treatment, her unique training allowed her to perceive a terrifying detail that her young guard was completely blind to.
The snow-white robes covering Leylin's body were far from simple. While the complete lack of a noble crest appeared unconventional and violated traditional local etiquette, she could distinctly detect a subtle, heavy atmospheric pressure radiating directly from the fibers of the cloth.
It was a specialized magical item. Based on her understanding of enchanted artifacts, she knew with absolute certainty that her own father wasn't even qualified to lay eyes on an object of this caliber, let alone own one.
The young man standing before them wasn't a commoner; he could easily be a visiting prince from an empire or a traveler backed by an extraordinarily ancient background.
'Oh no, I must stop Eta. Grandfather once told me about hidden ancient families that rarely appear in our circle. Let alone us, even royal family must be courteous to them. I hope he's not one of them.'
France's desperate evaluation was entirely accurate. The garment Leylin wore was a treasure, woven entirely from the silk of the legendary Tetra River Moth, a specialized species that had long since been driven to total extinction across the South Coast.
Leylin had plundered it from the Eternal River Plains. While it appeared deceptive and plain on the outside, the robe was light, exceptionally comfortable, and possessing defensive capability to effortlessly surviving a direct hit from a Rank 2 Magus's spell.
'Their phonetics and language structure sound slightly familiar to the ancient dialect of D'animaux,' Leylin mused silently, gently stroking his chin as he maintained his placid smile. 'However, my databases on that specific branch are far too limited to make a proper match. It could easily be a mere linguistic coincidence.'
To be completely frank, Leylin couldn't have answered France's polite introduction even if he wanted to, since he didn't comprehend a single word of their local language.
However, through their actions and emotional projections, their intent was transparent to him.
The exact moment Eta pointed his bare steel forward, Leylin's smile widened, transforming into a playful, predatory curl.
He parted his lips, uttering a sequence of smooth, calm syllables in a foreign tongue that the three natives could not comprehend.
"Interesting... What exactly should I do with the three of you? I happen to be in an exceptionally good mood today, so I shall graciously allow you to keep your lives. However, an offense against my person always requires a price. Take them."
Swish!
A series of strange, distorted whispers rippled through the shadows behind them.
Before the three travelers could even begin to turn their heads, the surrounding space warped violently, and half a dozen pitch-black, spectral figures materialized out of thin air directly behind their backs.
The coordination of the ambush was shocking. Behind each of the two armored knights, two towering undead summons solidified, their expressions cold as they instantly pinned the warriors in place, one phantom pressing a cold blade directly against the guard's neck, while the second locked a spear tip against his spine.
Simultaneously, the remaining two summons materialized directly behind France's back. Their dark arms were extended forward, their fingers crackling with the erratic, shimmering light of an offensive spell held mere inches from her, venting a bone-chilling aura that froze the air.
Although the three natives possessed zero knowledge regarding traditional Magus classifications, but suffocating pressure leaking from these Rank 1 undead summons was more than enough to make them want to piss their pants.
Any single one of these dark phantoms felt immeasurably stronger than any apex predator they had ever encountered in the wilderness.
Now, surrounded by six of them simultaneously, their bodies shivered uncontrollably under the heavy weight of the spiritual suppression.
Stumbling back against the blades, the trio looked at one another, their faces drained of all color as they hesitantly lifted their gazes to examine their captors.
The phantoms possessed black faces, their eyes gleaming with a menacing, hollow light that carried absolutely zero human emotion.
"What... what is this nightmare!? Where did these monsters come from?"
"Could he be a legendary, unique type of beast tamer?"
"But... to control so many of them simultaneously when each one possesses such terrifying power... Just how monstrous is his true strength?"
"Or does he originate from an extraordinary lineage being protected by such a force?"
Terrified to their very bones, the three natives frantically mumbled amongst themselves in a series of broken whispers.
At this point, they were certain that the white-robed youth standing before them was a prestigious high noble from a legendary family.
Only a descendant backed by a mountain of wealth and unbridled power could possibly possess an elite guardian team of this caliber.
Their arrogance evaporated, replaced by a desperate desire to throw themselves onto the dirt, beg for his forgiveness, and undo their offense.
Looking at the dark phantoms, Gill's mind snapped into absolute clarity; he finally understood the origin behind the massive field of decaying beast bones they had discovered earlier in the forest.
He realized with dread that let alone a veteran like himself, not even their master back in the city could hope to survive a single exchange with one of these monsters.
"Cut off the hand of the loudmouth." Leylin commanded casually, his tone entirely conversational.
Alas, the travelers were granted absolutely no opportunity to make amends. The summon standing directly behind Eta moved with blinding speed.
Its dark blade flashed through the sunlight, cleanly severing Eta's right arm at the wrist before the young knight could even attempt to dodge.
The severed hand, still gripping the hilt of the sword, thudded heavily into the dirt, and a second later, a piercing, agonizing shriek of pure torment erupted from Eta's lungs as blood sprayed across the white flowers.
France and Gill watched the sudden mutilation in horror. Realizing their lives hung by a single thread,
Gill completely abandoned his martial posture; he dropped his weapon and fell directly to his knees, pressing his forehead flat against the earth in a deep, desperate bow.
Broken pleas for life poured frantically from his mouth, his eyes locked onto his own feet as he trembled.
With a cold, mechanical movement, the summon casually clicked its dark fingers. A spark of black flame ignited across the severed hand resting in the grass, incinerating the flesh and the steel sword, reducing them to a pile of fine white ash in a matter of seconds.
Leylin casually waved his hand, and upon receiving the silent command, the six summons took a synchronized step back, lining up directly behind his white robes.
They crossed their arms behind their backs, standing in a state of flawless, absolute military discipline.
Only now did the three traumatized natives have the luxury to study their forms clearly, they were entirely featureless, draped in sweeping dark garments, their hollow eyes radiating a permanent, freezing spiritual aura.
Years ago, Leylin had briefly debated the idea of weaving illusion spells across his undead army to make his summons appear human, but he ultimately chose not to bother with such tedious cosmetics.
Throughout the wider magus world, there existed countless schools of summoning magic utilized by Abyss masters, demon lords, and purgatory entities that produced similar breeds of spectral thralls.
However, the singular variable that rendered Leylin's Soulbound Devourer trait completely unique and superior was its absolute finality: once a soul was successfully bound to his internal domain, there was a zero percent chance of spiritual backlash or rebellion.
Traditionally, a regular summoner had to pay a physical toll, offer expensive blood sacrifices, and continuously expend a massive chunk of their spiritual force just to sustain such powerful entities in the material plane for a few minutes.
Leylin, however, merely had to invest a single point of his spiritual force to summon a creature anchored to his soul domain.
Furthermore, following his recent breakthrough to the Rank 3 Warlock level, the power of his entire undead army had scaled in synchronization with his soul, allowing him to sustain their physical manifestations in the world for prolonged durations simply by channeling his mental energy.
Leylin looked down at the cowering, shaking trio with his pitch-black eyes, with a wave of curiosity within his pupils as he stepped forward over the white ozanama flowers.
"Now then... it seems we should finally have a nice little chat," Leylin murmured softly. "Oh, Yes—it appears I should probably learn your local language first."