I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

“Please,” he gurgled. The word came out wrong. His tongue had blistered. “Please—”

The fire reached his eyes and it didn’t even take seconds before they burst.

First, the whites began to simmer, turning from white to yellow to brown. Then the irises boiled. The man’s scream had already died in his throat, replaced by a helpless, throaty choke. His pupils seemed to shrink, then swell, then collapse inward as the jelly inside his skull turned to steam.

pop pop

The sound was small—a soft double-pop. But everyone in the corridor heard it. The soldier behind him—the one who had reached for his sword—turned and vomited onto the floor.

The burning man made no more pleas. His mouth opened and closed, but the sounds that came out were no longer words. His hands had curled into fists, his armor plate now glowing cherry red as the burning reached fever point.

The smell was even more bizarre. Roasted meat. Burnt hair. Piss. Shit.

Julian watched without blinking.

The fire burned for another thirty seconds—though it felt like an hour to every person in that corridor—and then, finally, the screaming stopped. The body toppled sideways, still smoking like a burnt coal.

When it hit the floor, one of the arms came off at the shoulder—the joint had burned through completely. The arm lay separate, his palm facing up as if begging for mercy it would never receive. The torso had split open in places, and you could see the ribs beneath. The face was gone. Where a face should have been, there was only a skull, the skin burned away entirely.

What remained was not a man. It was a pitiful being.

Julian looked at the five remaining soldiers.

None of them met his eyes.

“The next person,” Julian said, in the same soft, gentle voice, “who speaks of my mother. Who speaks of anything that belongs to me or mine in a tone I do not like.”

He paused.

“I will take longer.”

He turned his back on them and began walking down the corridor.

Moth fell into step behind him after only a heartbeat’s delay. His face had gone pale, but his steps was steady.

Behind them, the knight stood frozen for a long moment. Then he looked down at the smoking remains and walked away in the opposite direction without a word.

The five soldiers did not move for a very long time.

**

They walked in silence for a while.

Moth stayed half a step behind Julian, keeping his distance, but he was clearly scared and uncertain. Who wouldn’t be? After witnessing a man being brutally burned right in front of them. The sight was enough to make anyone hesitate.

Julian noticed.

He said nothing for two full corridors, letting the young knight hold it. Then, without looking back, he said: “Toughen up.”

Moth said nothing.

“You’ll see worse,” Julian continued, his voice carrying no particular weight on the words. “If you’re going to be useful in this castle over the next few weeks, you’ll need to be standing properly when it matters.”

A pause.

“Yes, young lord,” Moth said. His voice was steadier than Julian had expected. Some of the earlier tremor had resolved itself.

Julian almost smiled.

“Good,” he said. “Take me to my room.”

“Yes, young lord.”

Words traveled fast, just as Julian had known they would. Servants who had walked freely between the halls now stopped in doorways or turned down side passages when he and Moth approached. Soldiers posted at the corridor junctions carried themselves differently than they had an hour before—more alert, more cautious.

Two of Liam’s soldiers passed them, and neither dared to look at Julian. They lowered their heads, tightened their grip on their weapons, and walked on

Moth watched this happen and said nothing, but Julian could feel the young knight processing it.

They climbed a staircase and turned into the residential corridor of the castle’s upper floor. The light here was warmer than the other section of the castle.

Moth slowed as they approached a door.

“Your room, young lord,” he said.

Julian looked up.

There was someone outside the door.

She was standing with her back partially to the corridor, facing the narrow window at the end of the hall.

The late afternoon light fell across her face, casting her profile in a way that made Julian take a moment to recognize her.

As they drew closer, she turned, and Julian saw her clearly for the first time.

She was striking. Her dress was deep blue, well-fitted, with none of the decorative extravagance that often came with wealth. Her hair was dark and pinned up with the same simple style as everything else about her. She was perhaps twenty, with eyes that were alert and currently moving between Julian and Moth.

This was Vanessa.

Kraven’s sister. The Crown Prince’s future wife. The woman who would be queen of the Hermes Kingdom.

Julian watched her expression as he covered the last few feet of the corridor.

First came the relief, which was genuine and arrived quickly. Then the confusion followed, arriving immediately behind it, because what she saw didn’t match what she had expected. And then something more careful. Study.

All of this in approximately three seconds, and then her expression was composed and she was simply standing there looking at him.

“Kraven,” she said.

“Vanessa,” Julian said.

He stopped a comfortable distance from her and looked at her without any of the things Kraven’s memories suggested he had once looked at her with. Just looked at her, as one person looked at another.

Something in her face shifted slightly at that.

“Moth,” Julian said, without looking back. “That will be all.”

“Young lord,” Moth said, and his footsteps retreated back down the corridor.

Vanessa watched the young knight go and then returned her attention to Julian.

“You came back,” she said.

“The king is visiting,” Julian replied. “Father wanted the family present.”

She nodded slowly. Then: “How have you been.”

It was a simple question and she asked it simply. A sister asking her brother how he had been, in a corridor, after a long time apart.

“Well,” Julian said. “Better than when I left.”

She studied him.