Three years ago, Locke graduated from the Mage Academy and was conscripted into the Fifth Legion of the Frost Empire, serving as a battalion mage.
However, a week ago, the Fifth Legion's chief mage was defeated by the Light Temple's Inquisitor, leaving the entire legion exposed to the Inquisitor's assault.
A forbidden spell of Sanctuary-level destroyed much of the Fifth Legion.
Relying on his modest skills, Locke fled for his life.
The thirty or so knights of the Light Temple were not the first batch to hunt him.
And they most certainly would not be the last.
With the Fifth Legion shattered, only if Locke reached another legion's territory could the Frost Empire muster enough forces to resist the Light Temple's invasion.
"Ugh…"
Letting out a quiet sigh, Locke sprinkled some seasoning onto a rabbit roasting over the fire.
After a hearty meal, he waved his magic wand, and a thick water mist immediately engulfed the fire, extinguishing it in an instant.
Checking his direction, Locke pressed onward toward the Frost Empire.
Truthfully, Locke disliked war.
Especially wars between gods, spreading across countless planes in pursuit of faith.
If he had a choice, Locke would rather train in a quiet, undisturbed place, studying the vast Profound Laws and experiencing a life he had never known.
But there was no choice.
At this time, the gods' understanding of faith-harvesting was primitive.
The divine emissaries they sent to material planes would forcibly demand all mortals to pledge allegiance to their master god.
For followers of other gods, there was only one response: kill.
To these deities, anyone who did not believe in their master was a "heretic," worthy of death.
Locke did not know how long this battle on the Wakanda plane would last.
Nor did he know if more emissaries from other gods would arrive in the future to compete for faith.
All he could do was survive and grow stronger in the cracks of this war, to protect his family.
Forget the nonsense about having memories of a past life and being indifferent to his current parents.
A small house, three bunk beds—spending days calling each other father and son—how could the two elders who cared for him selflessly during his weakest years not be like his real parents?
Unless a transmigrator was inherently cruel and selfish, thinking that any kindness from others was owed and that any kindness he gave was a reward.
Night deepened, and the forest grew alive with rustling sounds.
Nocturnal hunters were moving silently, observing their prey.
Suddenly, Locke stopped.
In front of him, dozens of pairs of red-glowing eyes appeared.
Level-2 Pack Beast: Gale Demon Wolves!
A pack of Gale Demon Wolves always numbers over ten, led by a Level-3 Gale Demon Wolf King.
These wolves were more dangerous than some high-level beasts.
After all, a wolf pack needed far more food than a solitary high-level beast.
Once a pack spotted prey, almost none would escape their attack.
And now, Locke had drawn the attention of this pack.
"Water Mist Technique!"
As a master mage, Locke would not fall into a passive defense.
Concentrating his mind, a thick fog instantly enveloped a hundred meters around him.
"Celestial Dance Treasure Wheel!"
"Visual Deprivation!"
"Auditory Deprivation!"
Locke struck without mercy. His soul power spread through the mist, instantly stripping the vision and hearing of the dozen Gale Demon Wolves, turning them into blind, deaf animals.
"Awwooo—awwooo—"
Panicked without sight or hearing, the wolves scattered wildly. Blue wind blades shot from their mouths, severing trees, cutting companions' legs, or slicing through their waists…
Within mere breaths, half the pack lay dead, and the rest were hardly in better shape.
"Ice Blade!"
With a wave of his wand, three ice blades formed in the mist. Guided by Locke's willpower, they obliterated the remaining wolves.
Shaking his head, Locke noted: not a single one of the Level-2 beasts had a magic core.
Fortunately, beasts Level-3 and above always carried magic cores.
He retrieved a blue crystal from the shattered skull of the Gale Demon Wolf King and placed it in his space ring.
A Level-3 magic core could fetch roughly one gold coin—enough for a family of three to cover basic expenses for a month.
The next day, three soldiers from the Light Temple arrived.
Quickly, one knight, relying on his experience, deduced the direction Locke had fled and led two mages in pursuit.
…
At dawn, Locke awoke from meditation.
During his flight, he had replaced sleep with meditation.
His tense focus made his energy more concentrated than ever, and the effects of meditation had improved severalfold.
Locke estimated that, in at most six months, he could breakthrough to Level-7 Grand Mage.
Having grasped a fragment of the Profound Mystery of Illusionary Fog, Locke could fuse his will with the law, entering a state of unity between self and world, allowing the law's essence to gradually refine and strengthen his mental power.
Unfortunately, maintaining this state consumed enormous mental energy, unsustainable for long periods.
During his flight, Locke dared not enter it, fearing he might not be at peak power if pursued.
A night of meditation fully restored Locke's mana and mental energy.
Stepping out of the cave, he stretched—and his expression immediately changed.
The traps he had set the previous night had been triggered!
One… two… three…
Too fast!
Even the Sixth-Level Warrior he had encountered before was not this quick.
"I can't escape."
Locke's second thought.
At this speed, he would soon be caught.
Rather than fleeing and exhausting himself, he decided to see if he could fight his way out while at his peak.
(End of Chapter 3)