The days following Ju Min's escape from the rooftop encounter were tense. The Iron Circle's presence wasn't a passing warning—it was a signal. The High Sorcerer had taken notice. And when he noticed something, it meant that the shadows would begin to move.
Maerun's warnings became more urgent.
"They won't strike right away," he said one night while packing their hidden shelter with supplies. "They'll watch. They'll test. They want to know if you're truly dangerous."
"I don't want to be dangerous," Ju Min replied, his voice low.
"But you already are," Maerun said, locking eyes with him. "And now, you need to decide what to do with that."
Ju Min knew he couldn't stay hidden much longer. Every time he stepped out into the open, he felt eyes on him. Some curious. Some hostile. Some... familiar. His small victories—the duel, the shield, the illusions—had turned into a silent threat against those who believed magic belonged to the elite alone.
One evening, as Ju Min was walking back from a side alley market, a strange tension settled in his chest. The sky had turned a deep violet, and the air shimmered with unnatural quiet. No footsteps. No chatter. Just silence.
Then he saw them.
Four figures. Masked. Clad in cloaks darker than night. Their movements were precise, rehearsed. They didn't belong to any local gang or random cultist faction. Ju Min felt it in his bones—these were the Iron Circle's agents.
He ran.
Through alleys and rooftops, past sleeping beggars and shuttered shops. He leaped a broken fence and darted through a tunnel only the street kids knew. But they kept up, gliding behind him like wraiths. His lungs burned. His legs ached.
At the edge of the industrial quarter, they caught up.
Ju Min turned and raised his hands, calling on the light. A flare burst forth, blinding. He spun and released a wave of energy meant to knock them back.
It barely staggered them.
One figure moved fast—too fast—and slammed Ju Min into a wall. Another grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. Pain lanced through his side. His magic was unraveling.
Then a voice—cold, female, and calm.
"So. This is the boy?"
Ju Min looked up and saw a tall figure step from the shadows. She removed her mask slowly. Her face was sharp and pale, her eyes glowing faintly violet. No warmth. No curiosity. Only control.
"You don't belong to the cultivators," she said. "And yet you fight like one. Crude. Undisciplined. But dangerous."
He didn't answer. He was too busy trying to keep the blood from running down his sleeve.
"Tell me," she continued, crouching beside him. "Where did you learn this magic? Who taught you the Old Way?"
He met her gaze, jaw clenched. "I taught myself."
Her smile was thin. "Lies. But brave ones."
Before she could strike him again, a blinding light erupted from behind. The wall exploded outward, sending debris flying. A wave of power rushed through the alley.
Maerun.
He stepped into the scene like a storm given form. One hand raised, one lowered. The runes on his robe shimmered faintly in the dim light. His face was hard.
"That's enough," Maerun said.
The woman stood slowly, eyes narrowing. "So the traitor still lives."
"We all have our disappointments," Maerun said calmly. "But harming this boy? That's a mistake."
With a hiss, she vanished into the shadows, her agents disappearing behind her like smoke. The alley was silent again.
Maerun helped Ju Min to his feet, inspecting the wound. "You're lucky."
"I didn't feel lucky," Ju Min muttered.
They returned to the shelter, this time not underground but to a secluded chamber hidden beneath an old shrine. Maerun applied herbs to Ju Min's bruises while speaking in short, sharp sentences.
"They know your face now. We'll need to move. But more importantly, you need to be ready for what comes next."
"I thought I was ready," Ju Min said.
"No," Maerun replied. "You've just been reacting. From now on, you lead."
Ju Min didn't know how to lead. But he knew this much: running was no longer enough. The shadows had found him, but he had to push back.
In the days that followed, Maerun introduced new spells. Defensive barriers that didn't just block but absorbed energy. Light-based weapons that took form in his hands. And something more dangerous—something forbidden.
Soulfire.
"It's pure energy drawn from within," Maerun said. "But it comes at a cost. Too much, and it burns you as well."
Ju Min practiced in silence, drawing on his pain, his anger, and his quiet hope. Every strike, every flash of power, felt like a whisper of who he was becoming.
One night, after hours of training, he sat on the shrine steps, staring at the stars.
"I'm not who I used to be," he whispered to himself.
"No," Maerun said behind him. "You're not. But you're not finished, either."
They sat in silence, mentor and student. The world outside spun in chaos, but in that small corner of the city, something powerful was awakening.
The city still didn't know his name.
But it would soon.