CHAPTER 57: CHAPTER 57

As Clayton and the others were deep in conversation, someone seated nearby suddenly stood up and hurried away.

Meanwhile, Clayton continued celebrating with his father’s old friends late into the night. Just past midnight, the party finally came to an end, and Clayton’s group parted ways with Henry’s.

As Henry watched Clayton disappear into the distance, a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

"What’s wrong, Henry?" Vorax asked.

"Ah, it’s nothing..." Henry replied quickly, beginning to clean up the empty wine bottles in front of him.

...

Clayton, now heavily intoxicated, staggered along the road home. He regretted drinking so much—especially in the freezing night air. If he passed out or fell asleep on the street, he might not survive the cold.

With the help of Dingo and his tiny skeleton minions, Clayton struggled to stay awake and kept walking carefully. At first, everything seemed fine. It was nearly New Year’s Eve, after all, and people were still roaming around despite the late hour.

But as he entered a quieter part of town, Clayton felt a sudden chill—not from the cold, but from the creeping sense that someone was watching him. His senses sharpened.

As he passed through a deserted alley, Dingo suddenly growled, just like he had before when danger was near.

Clayton immediately went on guard, scanning the shadows. At first, he saw nothing—the darkness was too thick. But slowly, pairs of glowing eyes began to emerge from the gloom.

Clayton tensed. Around twenty sets of eyes stared at him—sharp, hungry, and unblinking. Even in the dark, he could make out their gaunt figures—hollow-eyed and desperate.

"What do you want? Why are you blocking my path?" Clayton asked, his tone sharp.

These weren’t ordinary robbers. There was no bluffing in their stares—just raw intent to take.

"Leave everything valuable you’ve got, and we’ll let you live," one of them said flatly.

"I can do that," Clayton replied calmly. "But you have to swear you won’t hurt me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever! Just drop your stuff!" one of them snapped.

Clayton complied. He removed all his valuables, one by one, making sure nothing was hidden. He knew that if they found anything on him later, they might kill him without hesitation.

It took a while—Clayton moved slowly and cautiously.

"There. I’ve given you everything. Can I go now?" he asked.

The leader of the group examined the items, then gave a small nod. "Alright. You can leave."

Clayton exhaled slowly and began walking away, still alert, wary of any sudden attack.

Step by step, nothing happened. He started to relax—just a little.

Then, without warning, they lunged at him like wild animals.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

Magic spells flew through the air, lighting up the alley in brilliant flashes. Clayton panicked and tried to dodge, but one spell hit him directly.

"ARGHHH!" he cried out in pain.

The drunken haze vanished, replaced by sharp, searing agony.

"Why are you attacking me?! You promised to let me go!" Clayton shouted, furious.

The gang leader scoffed. "Kid, you’re too naive. Who lets a threat walk away? You die here—now."

Clayton’s face twisted in bitter disbelief. "So you were lying from the start..."

He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the betrayal fueling his anger—but either way, his fury surged.

"Heh. Back at the restaurant, you said that girl was naive," the leader sneered. "Turns out, you’re even dumber."

Clayton clenched his jaw.

"Get him! Don’t let him escape!" the leader roared.

Spells flew one after another. Clayton dodged what he could, but he was still injured from the sheer volume of attacks.

Backed into a corner, Clayton made a quick decision—he’d use Dingo as a distraction.

"Go, Dingo! Take them down!"

Woff!

Dingo dove underground and erupted among the attackers, sowing chaos. Their formation collapsed. Clayton finally had a moment to think.

"Focus on the kid! Ignore the damn dog!" the gang leader yelled in frustration.

Suddenly, Dingo burst from the ground and slammed into the leader, knocking him over. The man cursed and launched attacks at Dingo—none of which connected.

But the relentless magic barrage began to take its toll. Blood seeped from Dingo’s body. He was slowing down. He couldn’t hold on much longer.

Clayton realized time was running out.

He quickly formulated a plan—to use his Abyssal Vortex, one of his forbidden spells. But it required a massive amount of water.

Without hesitation, he ordered his skeleton minions to spread water across the battlefield. He also drained the last reserves of water he had purchased at the festival.

The gang leader noticed Clayton pouring water but didn’t think much of it—at first.

Then, a pillar of fire shot toward Clayton.

Boom!

He barely dodged it.

"Finish him off!" the leader shouted.

Dingo was down, hiding in the shadows, too injured to fight.

But Clayton stayed calm, weaving between spells while continuing to soak the battlefield.

Eventually, the entire field was muddy and wet.

"NOW!

" Clayton roared.

His skeleton minions immediately began channeling magic into the ground. A faint tremor followed—then a blinding light surged upward.

The gang leader laughed dismissively. There were twenty of them—even if only one-star mages, they could overwhelm one boy.

But then the air grew thick. A towering vortex of water surged from the ground.

"Where the hell did all that water come from?!" the leader screamed.

Only then did he realize—all that "wasted" water was part of Clayton’s plan.

But it was too late.

The vortex howled to life, sucking in everything around it. Screams echoed as bodies were shredded inside the spiral.

"AAARGHHH—!"

No one survived. All that remained were blood, tatters, and silence.

Clayton stood there, breathing heavily.

Thankfully, he had mastered the Abyssal Vortex spell—and with his upgraded Entry level, its power had intensified, even without a full lake.

After a brief rest, he quickly gathered his belongings and fled the scene. He didn’t want any more trouble that night.

Fortunately, he made it home safely.

...

The Next Morning...

Clayton woke up late, his head pounding and body sore from the drinking and battle.

"Ugh... This is hell. I’m never drinking again," he groaned, vowing to himself.

After lying in bed for a while, he finally got up, washed his face, and went to prepare breakfast.

But the noise outside caught his attention.

Curious, Clayton stepped out of the house.

Outside, a group of people were gathered, chatting excitedly. Their faces sparkled with hope and enthusiasm.

Clayton walked over.

"What’s going on? Why do you all look so fired up?"