As Elio reached the gates of the lonely mansion, covered by the thick forest, an uneasy silence hung in the air. The gravel path beneath his feet, softened by the recent melted snow, gave off a damp sound the only sound in an otherwise silent world.

  He paused in front of the tall iron gate, noticing immediately that the guard who was usually stationed there was nowhere to be seen.There was always someone at the entrance not because Robertson needed protection. Despite his age, the man had a reputation of being one of the strongest guy in the country. In his adventurer phrase, Robertson was a force, someone you didn’t cross lightly. The guard was more a symbol a warning, a presence to ward off intruders and discourage curious wanderers and visitors who disturbed his retirement.

  But today, there is nobody here .

  Elio hesitated for a moment, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. He pushed open the gate and stepped inside.

  He scanned the surrounding. No movement in the windows. No sound of conversation from within. Usually, there was at least a servant tidying up or one of Robertson’s disciples training in the yeard.The mansion had always felt alive in its own quiet way.

  But they're are trace of people in the yeard. When he looked around closely,he noticed the yard and garden was neat and cn. And there are demp cloth hanging. Although no guard in front door but servents are present Which means the owner of the house is here. Maybe they're inside discussing some important matter,who knows?

  He might have to go to the main house if he isn't here. But for now he don't have to go back.

  Elio moved slowly toward the front door, his footsteps echoing across the stone. He reached out and knocked.

  Instead of a response coming from within the house, Elio suddenly heard a voice inside his mind.

  “Elio… it’s you. I was wondering who would dare to knock on my door. Follow the path beside the house and come to the back.”

  He startled and froze for a moment.

  But then he recognized the voice it was Mr. Robertson. Speaking directly into his thoughts.

  Elio had heard that absolute masters could communicate without any medium, but he had never experienced it himself until now.

  What surprised him even more was that Robertson had sensed his presence and identified him without even seeing him.

  Strong people really are frightening, Elio thought, a chill running down his spine.

  Elio followed the narrow path running alongside the mansion. He remembered this road faintly . He came here with his grandfather once when he was a child.

  The memory was distant, like a photograph left out in the sun, but he still recalled the scenery from back then.

  The path opened up into a vast stretch of ft nd behind the mansion, clear of trees and bordered by a huge cliff. From here, the sea stretched endlessly into the horizon, waves crashed far below against jagged rocks. The salty wind rushed past him, cold and clean, tugging at his coat.

  As he drew closer, he noticed the Sharp sounds of metal ringing in the air.

  The unmistakable sound of swords cshing.

  Elio quickened his pace, turning toward the noise. Just ahead, in the open clearing, several of Robertson’s disciples were engaged in fierce sparring. Their movements were swift and disciplined, the kind of precision only years of training could produce. Sparks flew as bdes struck, and shouts of effort echoed across the cliffside.

  So that was it.

  That’s why the mansion had seemed empty. Everyone was out here training under the open sky, just as Robertson always preferred.

  Steel cshed with a fsh of light, bdes sparking as two figures collided in a blur of motion. Magic pulsed with every strike arcs of lightning ced through the air, exploding on impact, while waves of the spells aftermath chased across the ground, destroying whatever they touched.

  One moved like a storm, twin bdes crackling with electricity. Every swing left scorched lines in the earth, each strike followed by bursts of blue energy. The other danced around the blows, a glowing staff swirling in wide arcs, every movement trailing shards of ice and wind.

  A bolt of lightning shot forward fast, blinding. But it met a shimmering barrier just in time, crackling against it before turning into smoke. The ground trembled under the force.

  Then silence.

  For a breath, they stood still, steam curling in the space between them frost and fire collide as they met in the air.

  And then they moved again.

  A sudden csh bde against staff. A sharp cry. They parted, panting, circling.And it wasn’t over yet.

  As Eliocontinue watching the duel something caught his eye.

  Just beyond the training ground, in a small makeshift hut, sat Mr. Robertson. The old man looked as calm as ever, his arms resting zily on the armrests of the wooden chair. A few servants moved quietly around him, one preparing tea on a low table nearby.

  Their eyes met.

  Robertson lifted a hand and signaled Elio to come over. The motion was subtle, but there was no mistaking its authority.

  Elio approached the small hut, respectfully bowed his head. “grandpa Robertson,”.

  The old man smiled, “You seem to have brought something good for me,” he said, nodding toward the bag in Elios hand.

  Elio handed it over to the butler with a grin. “its the best wine i have” he said. “Thought you’d enjoy it.”

  Robertson chuckled softly, his voice show the sign of again but full of warmth. “You’ve got taste. Sit. Enjoy the match.”

  They both turned to watch the duel continue, silent now, except for the distant ring of weapons and the occasional grunt of effort from the fighters below.

  For a time, they said nothing. Just sat together, watching.

  Then, without warning, Robertson’s voice rang out across the training ground loud and sharp like a crack of thunder.

  “Enough!”

  The disciples froze mid action. Without hesitation, they sheathed their weapons, bowed toward Robertson, and began making their way back toward the mansion. Their movements were precise, respectful. Not a single word was spoken.