Edward slipped quietly into the square and knelt by the well. The lock securing the lid didn’t stand a chance against the picks he had made from bent forks, combined with the lockpicking skill he had inherited from the great thief Arsène.
He drew water from the well and took it back to his study, where he used the alchemy equipment to analyze it. The results were exactly as he suspected—pure mana water, completely free of toxins. When he dropped Starwind into it, it glowed just like the so-called holy water from the temple.
With that preparation done, he returned to the well to show the villagers the truth.
“Th–that…?”
In front of the crowd, Edward took a sip of the glowing liquid. Nothing happened.
“This won’t harm you,” he said. “Who wants to try? Finish the glass and I’ll give you ten gold.”
Ten gold was a fortune for a poor farmer, yet no one stepped forward. The well water had long been feared as cursed.
“I’ll try,” a man said at last.
It was Logan—the same man who had earlier come at Edward, only to have a sword at his throat. His large frame and rough face made him stand out from the other farmers. He looked less defiant now, more conflicted.
“What’s your name?”
“Logan.”
“Good. Logan.”
Edward handed him the glass with a small smile. Logan’s hands shook as he took it.
“It’s the same as the holy water you’ve drunk before. I’ve tested it myself—there’s no danger.”
Logan drank, emptying the glass until only the Starwind remained at the bottom.
“This is…” He hesitated. The crowd waited.
“It’s holy water.”
The villagers murmured in confusion.
“What?”
“How?”
“So all you need is Starwind in the well water?”
“But the priest said it needed a blessing from the gods.”
“Then what have we been drinking?”
No one had an answer.
Edward stepped back up onto the well and looked around. The square fell silent.
“This water is mana water,” he said.
“Mana water?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s what knights and mages drink to restore their mana,” Edward explained. “You have a little mana in your bodies too. This water boosts it. That’s why you feel clear-headed and full of energy afterward.”
“Then what about the holy water from the temple?” Logan asked.
“It’s the same. Just this well water with a weed tossed in—fake holy water.”
“So we’ve been drinking fakes all this time?”
“Yes. Since you don’t use magic, all you got was a temporary good feeling.”
Logan ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had clearly paid dearly for the stuff.
“Come to think of it,” one villager said, “I once found some bits floating in my holy water.”
“Bits?”
“Yeah. Some plant matter.”
“That would’ve been Starwind,” another muttered.
“I should have realized…”
“And I paid so much for it.”
“Scam artist.”
“That priest is a fraud!”
The mood was turning ugly when…
“Lord Edward! What is the meaning of this?!”
Thomas appeared, leading temple guards. Four soldiers carried spears, and one knight in full plate armor stood beside them—a towering figure over two meters tall.
“I should be the one asking questions here,” Edward said calmly.
“What are you talking about?” Thomas replied.
“This water isn’t contaminated. You know that. That’s why you only gave me a small sip yesterday, isn’t it?”
“I… don’t know what you mean.”
“When someone with mana reflux drinks mana water, there’s a high risk of triggering it. That’s why you held back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Close that lid at once!” Thomas snapped.
“Why? So you can keep selling it? You didn’t purify this water for the church—you sold it to merchants and scammed the villagers.”
“Nonsense! Do you have proof?”
“I’ll show you.”
Edward dropped a piece of Starwind into the well water, and it glowed instantly.
“All it takes is a weed from the hill behind us. Simple, isn’t it?”
“That’s a fake,” Thomas shot back. “Without my blessing, it’s as deadly as poison.”
“Logan, how do you feel?” Edward asked.
“Exactly the same as when I drank the temple’s holy water,” Logan said.
Edward turned back to Thomas. “Aren’t you ashamed? You claim to serve a god of justice, yet you take advantage of people’s ignorance to steal from them.”
“The Black Mage Lord has fallen to the demons!” Thomas shouted. “His words are the whispers of evil! Remember who brought this drought upon us!”
The villagers, long accustomed to relying on the temple through years of drought, wavered under his influence.
“Perfect,” Edward said, facing the crowd again. “Let’s settle this here and now.”
He seized the moment. “We all know the drought began ten years ago. Does anyone remember when my health began to fail?”
Frederick stepped forward at his cue. “It was after the drought began, sir.”
“That’s right,” Edward said. “I spent years looking for a cure. Not one priest or potion worked. I turned to black magic out of desperation. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
The villagers stayed silent.
“Logan?” Edward pressed.
“The priest said the drought was because you turned to black magic,” Logan admitted.
And the villagers believed him. They needed an explanation for their desperate situation, and they needed someone to blame.
“The drought began long before I ever studied black magic,” Edward said. “So how can you claim black magic is the cause?”
The villagers lowered their heads. Like people forced to face an unpleasant truth, none of them looked pleased.
“You—” Thomas started, but Edward’s sharp voice cut through his words.
“Silence!”
The priest flinched and shut his mouth.
“You’ve insulted the name of Griffith. In Griffith territory, no less.”
“Blasphemy!”
“Blasphemy?” Edward’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who’s mocked the divine. Do you think Theos will forgive a man who lines his pockets with a fraud like this?”
“Arrest him!” Thomas barked, his voice rising as he pulled his last card.
Logan had once been among the most devout in the village. In this harsh reality, faith had been the only way to keep going. He believed that if he offered enough tribute, he might one day reach paradise after death.
The holy water, which cleared his head and lifted his spirits, had seemed like proof of that paradise. He’d even gone into debt to buy it.
But now, the “holy water” he trusted was nothing more than well water mixed with a weed.
The sacrifices he had made for it came rushing back to him, and rage followed.
“You swindler!” Logan shouted. “Give me back my money!”
“All of it!” someone else yelled.
“Fraud! Charlatan!”
The villagers’ mood flipped in an instant. The respect they had once felt was now betrayal, and that betrayal turned to anger. They surged toward Thomas.
“Stop them! Do whatever it takes!” the priest ordered his guards.
There were only five, but they were trained soldiers in full gear.
The temple knight stepped forward first. His towering figure, over two meters tall and clad head to toe in plate armor, made the crowd hesitate. He raised his heavy mace.
Logan froze as the weapon came down toward his head.
A metallic clang rang out.
Edward stood between them, having blocked the blow. Logan stared at him in shock. One moment Edward had been standing on the well, and the next he was here.
“M–my lord…”
“They’re not your match,” Edward told him. “Stand back.”
Logan stepped away awkwardly.
“Kill the heretic!” Thomas screamed, his voice cracking with rage.
The knight moved again, thrusting his shield toward Edward. But Edward stepped back a fraction faster.
“How dare you raise your hand against the people of Griffith?” Edward’s voice was cold as he closed in.
The next moment happened too fast for Logan to follow. There was a flash, and Edward’s sword pierced the knight’s visor, slipping through the eye slit and deep into his head.
The armored body fell with a heavy crash. The square went silent. No one had believed Edward could defeat a temple knight.
It had taken only a single exchange after blocking the first blow. The knight had the advantage in size, armor, and training—while Edward had never even completed knightly instruction. What had just happened seemed impossible.
Thomas was the most shocked of all. “Stop them!” he shouted, pushing the soldiers forward before turning to run toward the temple.
Edward’s gaze swept over the remaining guards. Pale-faced, they backed away with their spears raised. Once they were far enough, they turned and fled.
Edward spat on the ground. Blood followed.
Logan recognized the sign—mana reflux. He’d heard that when someone with the condition exerted themselves too hard, it could trigger a dangerous reaction. That was why such people were rarely trained with weapons.
Edward had risked his life to protect him.
My lord…
Logan remembered all the insults, the nickname “Black Mage Lord,” the resentment he had nursed. Edward had never truly wronged him—he had studied black magic only to search for a cure. That same knowledge had just exposed the priest’s fraud.
Shame, regret, and gratitude welled up at once.
“I’m sorry, my lord!” Logan dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground.
“We’ve committed a grave sin! Please forgive us!”
One by one, the villagers followed his example until all were prostrated.
Edward had succeeded in changing their minds. But instead of satisfaction, he felt uneasy.
What… is this?
The image of the knight’s death flashed in his mind. His body, driven to the edge by the strain of the fight, was already recovering.
He hadn’t even used the Black Soul—yet somehow, he had absorbed the knight’s spirit.
Cliche Novel 