I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Chapter 672: Kraven’s memory - part 2

The invitation arrived three days later.

It was a single card with date, time and four words beneath the royal seal.

Come alone. Tell nobody.

Kraven told nobody.

The gathering was held not in the main castle but in a separate building on the royal grounds. This castle was rough and seemed way older than the royal castle itself. There were no guards in sight, no announcement — Just a door that was slightly open.

Kraven stepped inside.

The room held perhaps fifteen people. All of them were young and all were carrying the particular aura of someone who were used to being the most talented person in whatever room they usually occupied. They moved around the hall, carefully assessing one another.

The food was extraordinary. The wine was better. Servants moved through the room, and the King himself circled among his guests — laughing at things people said, asking questions, making each person feel briefly like the only one in the room.

Kraven watched this and found it impressive.

An hour passed. Then other.

The King finally appeared before Kraven.

”Come,” he said quietly. ”There’s someone I would like you to meet.”

He led Kraven toward the far end of the room where the light was slightly lower and the noise of the gathering slightly more distant. A man stood there alone, holding a glass of wine, his eyes wandering through the hall.

He was unremarkable in every possible way. Medium height, medium build, somewhere between thirty and fifty in age depending on the light. He had no cultivation pressure whatsoever — or rather no detectable presence.

”This is an old friend,” the King said warmly. ”A scholar of cultivation philosophy. I think you’ll find his perspectives interesting.”

The man turned and looked at Kraven.

Julian, inside the memory, went completely still.

He knew that face.

That cold stare.

Julian had been searching for the man since the day he died. Now, at last, he had found him—buried deep within Kraven’s memory.

The servant of Death extended his hand.

Kraven shook it.

Their conversation lasted perhaps forty minutes.

The servant was an extraordinary communicator. He presented magical theory the way a good teacher presents mathematics — building each concept cleanly and never moving forward until the foundation was solid.

He talked about the fundamental laws governing cultivation. About the nature of elemental mana, and why fire, specifically, was very powerful. He talked about the history of grand mages, the history of kingdoms, and why Hermes was a very special kingdom to be born in—though he skipped the part that made it special.

Kraven had never heard it framed that way.

The servant moved on. He talked about why certain mage throughout history had hit ceilings that their raw talent should have made it possible, and why others with considerably less talent had broken through that same ceilings without any effort.

The difference, he said, was never ability. It was always conception.

Kraven was leaning forward by the fifteen minute mark without realizing it.

The servant kept going. Historical examples, weird breakthroughs and all other possible evidence that proved his point.

For Kraven, who had spent his entire life being talented and privileged by birth, it was like someone had opened a window he hadn’t known was closed this entire time.

He forgot the feast entirely. Forgot his sister across the room, forgot the other guests and even forgot the wine in his hand. He just listened as if this conversation was exactly what he was waiting for his all life.

Forty minutes passed like ten.

Then the servant smiled and extended his hand. Kraven shook it without thinking.

And that was when it happened.

Julian watched the black flame seep into Kraven through that contact. It was subtle, almost invisible but definitely there.

One moment Kraven’s sea of consciousness was entirely his own. The next, it carried something new.

The servant said something pleasant in farewell.

Kraven smiled back and turned toward the hall, carrying his new gift without the faintest idea of what was about to happen.

The rest of the memory moved quickly.

Kraven rejoined the gathering. Found the other young cultivators — there were perhaps eight of them clustered near the far table, and the conversation that developed was exactly the kind Kraven enjoyed most. Competitive but informational, each person countering the others’ theories without sounding rude or arrogant.

For the first twenty minutes, nothing was different.

Then it started.

His eyes moved across the room in a new pattern — lingering on the female guests, the maids serving the tables and even other female attendees of the party.

He noticed one of the maid refilling glasses near the window. Looked at her. Looked away. Looked back.

Frowned slightly, the way you frown at a thought that doesn’t quite make sense.

Then across the room, a young man was surrounded by girls. He was another guest and was certainly very handsome and charming.

Kraven saw him and the restlessness sharpened immediately into something akin to jealousy.

Julian watched the phenomenon begin. The black flame seemed to find a new source to feed on, growing stronger and stronger as Kraven’s agitation increased.

Kraven set his glass down and crossed the room.

Julian couldn’t hear the exchange, but he didn’t need to. He could read its shape clearly—Kraven saying something rude to the young man, the young man firing back with something just as rude. The verbal battle continued, and the tension between them was rising quickly.

The other guests nearby went quiet, watching the sight before them with interest.

Then the King was there.

He teleported between the two and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. He was still smiling, but his aura was flaring violently—it was a warning. A few words were exchanged, and within sixty seconds both young men were shaking hands. They forced smiles and went their own way. The guests resumed their conversations as though nothing had happened.

Because for the King, Julian realized, nothing unusual had happened.

This must have happened before. It was not surprising that someone was corrupting the genius of the kingdom in front of the King without the King being willingly involved in it.