The Good Teacher

The caravan progressed at a steady pace. It faced little opposition or cause for delays when traversing through the Maika Duchy, which was expected. Being one of the more commercially bounteous territories of the Solar Empire meant that they had to maintain a level of safety and security within their region so that money could 'flow' unhindered. To that end, the stringency with which the retainers of the Maika Duchy upheld their patrols and responsibilities was unparalleled. To top it off, the punishments and fines for illegal activities were many times more severe.

It was when the convoy crossed the Duchy's border and entered the Rasmus March that things started to get sketchier. In fact, Guy observed this in the demeanour of the members of the convoy first. Their neutral stance became more vigilant. Even the escorting group, who had been working with Dune Caravan Management regularly, had entered an alert posture.

"I wish Big Sis was with us," Markus commented with a low mutter. "I'm suddenly having a really weird premonition that I'd love to have verified by her."

"The atmosphere has grown palpably charged," Guy affirmed. "A conflict is imminent, I can just feel it."

"Matron Reva says that if we speak bad things then they will become real," Dora piped in with a matter-of-fact frown plastered over her face. Tucked under her right arm was a comic book that Guy had produced for her about monster tamers that stored powerful evolving beasts in palm-sized balls, which she was reading for the sixth time now.

"Although both the Maika Duchy and my Clan's territory border the Blackstar Kingdom, the former is in a better position due to the superior natural protection offered by the Dawnbreaker Mountain Ranges to the north. The border of the Rasmus March to the Blackstar Kingdom is fairly accessible, and it becomes difficult for my Clan to maintain strict control of that border at all times. Unwanted elements often sneak in as refugees... it's not like we can turn away those unfortunate..." Jean explained.

"That's why this slave suggested informing the Marquis about the Young miss' travel itinerary-" Josie tried to point out worriedly, but Jean immediately interrupted her.

"If we informed my father, he would have redirected an incalculable number of resources for my sake. It would leave the rest of our territory unmanned and prone to danger. This would then lead to the Clan questioning my father's capacity to lead. I cannot let that happen."

"But-"

"That's enough, Josie," Jean warned sternly.

Josie wanted to try one more time to convince Jean when suddenly her senses captured a group of men approaching the convoy. Jean read the change in Josie's expression within the second of the shift and immediately grabbed her by the arm.

"Young miss-"

"You mustn't interfere," Jean reminded. "This is our responsibility as members of the True World Sect, not yours."

Following the passing of another minute, the approaching threat entered the senses of the other escort members, who then armed themselves with their weapons and signalled for the caravan to halt. After another tense minute, the threat made itself known.

"Leave your cargo and scram! Do not make a move if you wish to live!" A gruff voice scoffed. From behind the low shrubbery, a group of individuals leapt out and blocked the caravan's path. At the same time, all around them, a secondary force of thugs revealed their presence and formed a tentative formation to block any form of retreat.

The threatening voice belonged to a heavy-set individual, garbed in a worn-out, mud-caked peasant's attire. A pair of cotton trousers that showed visible signs of age and restoration, with off-coloured patches stitched in to mask the torn sections. He wore a rough sleeveless jacket over his nude upper body, with his rotund belly peeking out. With one of his gelatinous, fat arms he held a large machete made of haphazardly hammered metal. The metal's surface was marred in brown due to a combination of rust as well as dried and caking blood. The man ran his free hand over his matted beard and said, "Let's make it quick and easy, shall we?"

"We won't be doing that," a response brimming with arrogance shot off from the centre of the convoy. The source of the retort exited the comfort of the carriage and with a few long and consecutive leaps, position himself in front of the thug leading the confrontation. "You're not from these parts, are you?"

"Who the fuck are you?" The thug grunted. The man in question wore immaculate leather armour fully covering his form, barring his joints. Unlike the common fashion of men growing longer locks, his hair was trimmed to military length. His appearance matched that of someone in their mid to late twenties.

"Figures that you Blackstar scum wouldn't know who we are," the man snorted. He pointed at the crest embossed on his chest armour, "This is the symbol of the Whispering Dusk Sect."

That revelation elicited a mild flinch from the leading thug, though the man redoubled his confident and aggressive posture. "That supposed to mean something to me? Stop wasting everyone's time and get lost! Or it'll be your head next. I'm feeling generous today, leave your cargo and women and I'll let the rest of you live."

The escort leader bellowed with mirthful laughter and said, "What a coincidence! I too am feeling generous today. Half of you surrender and I'll let you have a painless death, the rest... well I can promise that you will definitely beg for death to take you into its sweet embrace."

With those final words, the man exuded pressure over his mana domain, focusing primarily on the interlopers before and around him. In response, the leading thug scoffed and said, "You ain't the only one with tricks up his sleeve, pretty boy."

The thug exuded his pressure and competed with the escort leader for control over the mana domain. As Guy observed the tug-of-war, he realised that the two were both in the same cultivation realm - the Internal Stage of the Foundation Establishment realm. Although, the escort leader's control and cultivation felt more robust and stable compared to the thug, whose control was sort of all over the place.

"Impressive cultivation," the escort leader commended sarcastically. "Though it seems you've overestimated your chances. I don't sense any other mage amongst you. However..."

On cue, four more pressure sources flared up from the convoy, though these were only at the peak of the Late stage of Mana Condensation Realm. They belonged to the other escort members from the Whispering Dusk Sect.

"We'll see," the thug declared before bursting into action. With a wide sweep, he brought the machete towards the escort leader's neck. The leader pulled in his mana domain and coated his form in a dark mist. The machete collided against the wispy dark gas surrounding the leader, but contrary to common rules of physics, it started to lose its momentum and slowed to a halt.

The thug spat out in annoyance and continued his onslaught. Meanwhile, his fellow bandits rushed into action. One of the other escort members sliced their hands with a quick jab, their palm coated in the same dark mist the leader had, and managed to separate the head of one of the incoming thugs from their bodies. This sudden manslaughter caused the other attacks to hesitate, but their gaze glazed over in an instant and they resumed the assault like mindless drones. It was at that instant that Guy realised the implication behind the thug's final comment.

"He intends to swarm us!" Guy shouted. "The others seem to be under some form of mind control."

These words of warning were summarily ignored by the other escort members. Instead, they continued the seemingly one-sided massacre while the thug and escort leader continued their intense melee.

"Mister Larks, we need to stop them," Jean pleaded with a trace of discomfort in her voice. "The other bandits may not be complicit."

Guy contemplated for a quick second before jumping into action. He circulated the mana from his core and released the translucent mist into the atmosphere.

Once the mist had encompassed everyone, he steeled his resolve and declared, "Everyone, stop fighting!"

A throaty and hoarse voice echoed within the fighters' minds, as they ground to a complete halt.

"W-What are you doing?!" The escort leader screamed, half in fear and half in anger upon suddenly losing control of his body.

Guy ignored the man and looked straight into the leading thug's eyes, "Answer me truthfully: Are you in control of these other attackers?"

The fat thug tried his hardest to keep his mouth shut, but his body just would not comply, "YES!"

"Release your control over these people!" Guy commanded. He expected the thug to cast a spell of some sort. He did not expect the man to bring the machete towards his own heart and plunge it in without hesitation. Guy's eyes nearly flew out of his sockets in shock. This was never his intention! Although, he could see the other thugs suddenly gaining clarity and entering a fearful trance. Guy immediately retrieved the dissipated mist filled with his mana and collapsed onto his buttocks.

"NO! Don't attack them," Jean pleaded as one of the Whispering Dusk Sect members ignored the cowering thug's words of surrender and threw a dark mist-coated dagger at them.

The dagger reached just ten centimetres away from the crying thug's forehead before another small, much darker circle formed in front of his eyes and swallowed the blade in its entirety. The billowing black ball burst upwards into the sky and disappeared before an ear-shattering boom resonated. The escort leader followed the source of the attack and found Markus pointing a piece of wood with multiple spell circles rotating around it.

He downed an audible gulp as his eyes moved between the stick-pointing boy with such precise spell-mastery, and the humble man around the same age as himself with the power to play everyone like puppets.

"W-Who exactly are you folk?" The escort leader inquired.

Guy quickly centred himself, albeit haphazardly, and introduced himself once again, "I am the Sect Leader of the True World Sect, this here is my Disciple Markus Reva. This is Jean Rasmus, a member of our Sect."

"Did you say Rasmus? As in THE Rasmus?" Another Whispering Dusk Sect member coughed.

Jean offhandedly nodded in affirmation before approaching the injured thugs spread out all over the place.

'Who the hell are these people?' The escort leader muttered internally as he apprehensively accepted Guy's greeting.