The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 64: The Rainy Night in the Forest

He retrieved his kill with practiced ease, slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way toward a nearby stream. The dagger in his hand gleamed under the dim light, flashing as he skinned and gutted the rabbit with smooth, practiced motions. Soon, he held a fresh portion of meat, ready for the fire.

By nightfall, the forest was swallowed in thick white mist. Rain began to fall in earnest, drumming against the leaves, forming rivulets along the tree trunks. Hutson reached into his spatial ring, retrieving a waterproof tarp, which he strung beneath a towering oak, creating a makeshift shelter. With quick, efficient hands, he gathered dry firewood, plucked wild vegetables, and foraged mushrooms from the damp undergrowth.

A snap of his fingers ignited the pile of wood. Flames roared to life, casting flickering shadows against the thick curtain of rain.

A simple application of fire elemental magic—a trick he had mastered since advancing as a second-rank wizard apprentice. Not a weapon, but a tool for survival.

The forest itself pulsed with unseen energies. Plant-aligned magic hung in the air, subtle yet ever-present, accelerating the healing of wounds and seeping into the very bones of the land.

Hutson took a wooden skewer, impaling the fresh rabbit meat before suspending it over the fire. From his pack, he retrieved oil and a handful of spices, carefully brushing layer after layer onto the roasting flesh. The aroma thickened, rich and tantalizing, mingling with the rain-soaked air.

The steady rhythm of raindrops against his tarp, the occasional crackle of burning wood—peace.

But the peace would not last.

He heard them before he saw them—two sets of footsteps crunching cautiously through the underbrush. Instinct sharpened his senses, his grip tightening around his dagger.

As the figures stepped into the firelight, their forms came into focus.

One was a knight—an older man with a thick beard, his weathered armor dull under the flickering glow. A longsword hung from his side, stained with fresh blood. His gaze, sharp and wary, flickered toward Hutson with measured caution.

Beside him stood a boy, no older than sixteen or seventeen. His golden hair and finely embroidered garments marked him as nobility—an heir displaced from the safety of his castle walls.

The knight spoke first, his voice steady but edged with weariness. "Greetings, traveler. I am Kieran Banks, knight of the Banks family.

This is my young lord, Joshi Banks, second son of the house. Might we share your fire? My lord is cold and weary from the road."

Hutson studied them in silence, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he gestured to the open space near the fire. "There’s room. Sit."

As Kieran guided Joshi toward the warmth, a translucent screen flickered to life before Hutson’s eyes.

Kieran Banks: Strength 4.2, Agility 3.2, Constitution 3.9. Unknown energy detected.

Another high-rank knight. The thought drifted through Hutson’s mind, unbidden. It reminded him of Baron Buck—an old acquaintance, now long gone.

Kieran and Joshi moved cautiously, their every step measured, as though fearful of provoking their host. The young noble shivered, huddling closer to the fire, his fine clothes offering little protection against the cold night air.

The rabbit meat sizzled, its glistening skin crisping under the flames. Fat dripped into the fire, sending up bursts of golden sparks.

Hutson leaned forward, gripping one of the roasted legs. The heat seared his fingers, but he ignored the sting, tearing into the tender meat.

The juices burst across his tongue, rich and smoky from the open flame. The warmth spread through his body, pushing away the cold.

Beside the fire, a small pot hung, filled with simmering broth made from wild vegetables and mushrooms. The AI chip had confirmed the ingredients were safe—an added precaution, but a necessary one.

Hutson finished his rabbit leg and reached for the pot’s lid. As he lifted it, a thick plume of fragrant steam billowed into the air, carrying the rich, earthy aroma of the soup.

Kieran’s sharp eyes flickered toward him as he retrieved a bowl from his spatial ring. The knight’s expression darkened slightly—a flicker of unease as he witnessed the casual use of space magic. His wariness of Hutson deepened, tempered now with cautious respect.

Then, a low, rumbling sound broke the silence.

Hutson glanced up. The source of the noise was unmistakable—Joshi, the young noble, his face flushing red with embarrassment as his stomach protested its hunger.

Hutson smirked but said nothing, turning his attention back to his steaming bowl of soup.

Kieran cleared his throat. "Sir, would you be willing to sell us some food? We will pay handsomely."

Hutson raised a brow, taking another slow sip of his broth. "A knight of your caliber can’t hunt?"

Kieran hesitated, shame flickering in his eyes. "We have been fleeing for days. Hunting was not a priority. Now, with the rain, I cannot ask my young lord to venture into the night."

Joshi spoke then, his voice steadier than expected. "Uncle Kieran, it’s alright. You’ve done enough. Missing a meal won’t harm me. We’ll find food at dawn."

Hutson chuckled. Without a word, he reached into his spatial ring and retrieved a thick, travel-worn biscuit. He held it up between his fingers, letting the firelight catch its rough surface.

"Ten gold," he said simply. "Do you want it?"

"Ten gold?" Joshi’s gaze flickered between the plain, unassuming biscuit in Hutson’s hand and the man himself. His lips pressed together in thought before he spoke again.

"No, I’ll give you ten thousand gold."

Hutson chuckled, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Ten thousand? Do you even have that much on you?"

Joshi shook his head but remained unfazed. "Not now. But once I return to Macphir City in the Tasonei Territory, I swear, you will receive every coin, down to the last piece."

The young noble had been watching Hutson closely—his composure, his skill, and the way Kieran, a seasoned knight, carried himself around him. This was no ordinary traveler. A man of this caliber was not just a passerby; he was an opportunity. And Joshi was not one to let opportunities slip through his fingers.

Hutson smirked. "So, I give you a biscuit, and you give me an empty promise?"

But Joshi’s response was unexpected.

In a swift motion, he dropped to one knee on the damp earth, heedless of the mud that clung to his finely tailored trousers. His right hand pressed firmly against his chest as he looked up at Hutson with unwavering determination.

"By the honor of House Banks, I swear—if we make it back to Macphir City, you will have your ten thousand gold."

For a moment, the only sound was the steady patter of rain against the leaves and the distant crackling of the fire.

Hutson exhaled slowly, his amusement fading into something more contemplative. "Hutson Merlin," he finally said, his name rolling off his tongue like an afterthought. "And ten thousand gold isn’t just the price of a biscuit, is it? You want me to deal with whatever trouble is chasing you, don’t you?" He shook his head. "Sorry, but I don’t like trouble."

"You misunderstand, Sir Hutson," Joshi insisted, his voice steady, sincere. "I am not asking you to fight my battles. All I ask is that you escort us safely to Macphir City. Nothing more." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Hutson’s brow furrowed slightly as he considered the offer. Macphir City... He mentally traced the route on the map. It was along the path he had intended to take anyway. And having these two with him—well, that might prove useful in ways they didn’t yet realize.

"Macphir City, huh?" He leaned back, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face. "If ten thousand gold is only for a simple escort, then I’d be a fool not to take it."

His gaze shifted toward the knight, Kieran, who remained silent but alert.

"Fine," Hutson said at last. "At first light, you lead the way."

A flicker of relief passed over Joshi’s face, but Hutson barely paid it any mind. He had seen enough noble games to know this was only the beginning.