Rin strode through the lands of Duskwind Barony, his eyes sharp and observant. Three villages lay within his territory:

  Brimwood Village – Nestled near Duskwind Forest, home to hunters, herbalists, and adventurers.

  Stonebrook Village – A bustling mining community, extracting iron and mana stones.

  Willowshade Village – A quiet farming village, the backbone of Duskwind’s food supply.

  His first stop was Willowshade. Yet, as he crossed its threshold, a chill settled over him.

  The air was heavy, thick with despair. Once-fertile fields lay cracked and barren, the soil as lifeless as ash. Wilted crops clung desperately to the ground, as if unwilling to surrender. Farmers moved sluggishly, their eyes hollow, bodies thin from months—perhaps years—of hunger. Even the livestock, bones jutting from their frail bodies, mirrored the village’s agony. “This land… it’s not just dying. It’s screaming,” Rin murmured, his gaze hardening as he took in the withered fields and hollow-eyed villagers.

  Behind him, Elysia and Lucien followed in silence, their expressions darkening with each step.

  Rin finally approached an elderly farmer, his back bent from years of toil. His hands, rough and cracked, gripped a rusted hoe that had long lost its strength.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Rin addressed softly. “Why is the land in such a state?”

  The farmer’s weary eyes lifted to meet Rin’s. “It wasn’t always like this, Young Master…” His voice was laced with exhaustion. “Five years ago, this land was alive. But then… the mana began to fade.”

  “Five years ago?” Rin’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

  The old man’s gaze drifted toward the cracked soil, his voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t know. We’re farmers, not mages. We begged the last baron for help… but he ignored us.”

  Rin’s jaw clenched. “He turned his back… on his own people?” Rin’s voice was quiet, but the undercurrent of anger was unmistakable.

  The farmer nodded slowly. “When no help came, we stopped asking. What else could we do?”

  Rin’s fists tightened. That bastard… He let his own people rot.

  Without hesitation, he turned to Ronin, his most trusted mage.

  “Ronin, I want a full magical analysis of this land. Every crack, every trace of mana. I want answers by dawn.”

  Ronin bowed. “Understood, Young Master.”

  As Rin continued through the village, a faint golden light flickered in the distance—near an abandoned farmland.

  What is that?

  The glow was soft, ethereal… yet strangely, his system remained silent.

  If it’s important, the system should notify me… But it’s not reacting.

  “Young Master?” Lucien’s voice was cautious, but Rin didn’t respond.

  Drawn by instinct, Rin moved toward the light. His steps quickened. Elysia and Lucien exchanged concerned glances before following.

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  The light led him to a desolate patch of land, where the soil was even more cracked than the rest. Rin grabbed a rusted shovel nearby and began digging.

  “Rin, wait!” Elysia’s voice echoed with alarm. “What are you—”

  “There’s something here,” Rin said firmly, his hands never stopping.

  Lucien sighed but crouched down beside him. “If you insist… We’ll help.”

  After half an hour of relentless digging, as the sun began to set, they finally unearthed an old, charred ring.

  A faint golden aura still shimmered around it.

  Yet… the system was silent.

  “System, appraise this ring.”

  [This item cannot be appraised.]

  What?

  “Is this… a divine relic? Or did I just unearth Dominara’s version of the Green Lantern’s ring?”

  Rin murmured, his gaze fixed on the vibrant green jewel embedded in the band.

  Rin’s brows furrowed. His system had never failed to identify anything before.

  “For now…” Rin murmured, storing the ring within his system’s inventory. “I’ll hold onto it.”

  The next morning, Rin sat in his study, his expression composed but his mind restless. The village’s suffering haunted him. The sight of those empty fields, the hopeless eyes of the farmers—it gnawed at his resolve.

  The door creaked open, and Cain and Ronin entered. Their faces were grim.

  “Young Master…” Cain hesitated.

  Rin’s sharp gaze locked onto him. “Speak.”

  Ronin stepped forward, his voice steady but weighted. “We’ve found the source of Willowshade’s suffering.”

  “And?” Rin’s tone was cold, but a storm brewed beneath his calm.

  Ronin’s next words shattered the silence.

  “There’s a mana vein beneath Willowshade Village.”

  Rin’s breath caught.

  A mana vein…?

  Mana veins—natural sources of pure, concentrated mana—were rarer than legendary Elixirs. Only eight existed in all of Everhart County. And now, they had discovered another… in a dying village.

  “Are you certain?”

  Cain nodded grimly. “Beyond doubt.”

  “Then why—”

  “Because Young Master…” Ronin’s voice darkened. “A bandit group has taken control of it.”

  Silence.

  Rin’s knuckles turned white. “Bandits?”

  Rin’s voice was low, almost dangerous. “Daring to drain a mana vein…?”

  “Yes.” Ronin’s jaw tightened. “They’ve been siphoning mana from the vein for their own gain. That’s why the land is dying.”

  Mana Veins, like underground rivers beneath Dominara, flow with pure mana that nourishes the land, empowers mages, and sustains entire regions.

  Strictly Forbidden to Exploit

  By Imperial decree, tampering with mana veins for personal gain is a grave crime, punishable even for the highest nobles.

  Chain of Command

  Upon discovery, the vein must be reported up the chain: Count → Duke → Royal Family.

  Only after reaching the Emperor/Empress does formal management begin.

  The discoverer is rewarded with mana stones but cannot claim the vein.

  Law Maintains Balance

  This system prevents chaos, ensuring no one disrupts Dominara’s delicate magical balance.

  Power with Consequences

  Controlling a mana vein brings immense power—but those who defy this order,

  They do not live to tell the tale.

  “How many?” Rin’s voice was deathly quiet.

  Ronin’s eyes hardened. “Two 3rd Awakening-class bandits.”

  “Thirty 2nd Awakening-class.”

  “Fifty-five 1st Awakening class.”

  Elysia’s breath hitched. “That many…?”

  Lucien’s eyes darkened. “No wonder the village was withering…”

  Rin’s mind raced. A 3rd Awakening-class bandit who had been absorbing pure mana… He could rival a noble of the same rank.

  “Why would such talented individuals join bandits?”

  Ronin answered before Rin could ask.

  “Because mana purity and mana quantity make all the difference. Even if two mages are of the same class, the one with purer mana will always have an advantage. More mana… means more spells.”

  “They sold their souls for power.”

  Rin’s fingers trembled as they gripped the edge of his desk. His nails dug into the wood.

  “A mana vein is a land’s blessing,” he murmured, his voice cold, controlled—but beneath that control burned a growing storm. “It belongs to its people… not parasites.”

  Lucien stepped forward. “We’ll need reinforcements.”

  Rin’s eyes sharpened. “Lucien, draft an official report to my father. We’ll need Everhart County’s forces.”

  Lucien bowed. “At once, Rin.”

  Rin turned to Cain. “Gather every report on their movements. I want to know where they eat, where they sleep… where they breathe.”

  Cain smirked. “Consider it done, young master.”

  As they left, Rin remained alone in the dimly lit study.

  He stood before a map of Duskwind Barony. His gaze traced the borders of Willowshade Village, his expression unreadable—yet his heart pounded with unyielding resolve.

  “Duskwind belongs to its people.”

  “Not to thieves.”

  “Not to cowards.”

  “And certainly not to bandits.”

  His grip hardened, trembling with a silent promise of violence.

  “By the time my father’s forces march… the ground will be soaked in their regret.”

  “Those bastards won’t even have time to beg.”