My Magic Has No Upper Limit

But Zelir just turned his head and asked politely.

"By the way, if I may trouble you with one more question, where is Patriarch Vance now?"

"At this hour... At this hour, he should have just woken up, right?"

Gare replied, a little too eagerly, even pointing the way.

"He’s probably having breakfast or something... Just go straight down the corridor. It’s the largest residence there."

"You’re not lying to me, are you?"

"Of course not!" Gare immediately promised.

"Thank you."

Zelir nodded, then waved his hand. "Let’s go!"

The squad continued to advance quickly.

Gare froze for a moment, still holding his hands up against the wall.

He watched their departing backs, clicked his tongue, and muttered quietly.

"Surprisingly polite..."

Only after the squad disappeared at the end of the corridor did the tense atmosphere in the courtyard gradually dissipate.

To the sound of pained groans, the guards who had been playing dead in the flowerbeds—or had been genuinely knocked senseless—began to get up one by one.

"Oh god..."

A young guard who had just crawled out of a flowerbed straightened his helmet, his voice trembling.

He looked at the scorched mark on the front of his Chest Armor, his heart still pounding with fear.

Even through the thick metal, he had felt the scorching heat the moment the Fireball struck.

"What is going on...? Who in the world did Patriarch Vance piss off? That was terrifying..."

"Isn’t it obvious? You idiot!"

Another, slightly older guard winced in pain as he rubbed his nearly broken ribs.

"Look at their composition! That was an Elite Adventurer Squad, complete with a Vanguard Swordsman and a Ranger. They’re all Middle Level, and they even have a Mage!"

"If you ask me... Patriarch Vance must owe them money!"

Someone declared with utter conviction.

"He probably hired them for some shady job and then stiffed them on the payment. And it must be a lot of money, too!"

"Think about it. The Patriarch is late on our wages, and we only make a few Silver Coins. What do you expect for a high-priced Adventurer Squad like them?"

As soon as this theory was proposed, a chorus of agreement rose from the surrounding guards.

"That must be it!"

"Well, he deserves it then!"

Just then, someone asked weakly.

"Captain... why didn’t you try to fight back just now?"

"Fight back with what? How was I supposed to fight back?"

His sore spot having been poked, Gare immediately started glaring, spit flying from his mouth.

"If I died, were you going to pay my family a death benefit? Didn’t you see how murderous they looked?!"

"Er... You’re right. A wise decision, Captain." The greenhorn immediately shrank back and fell silent.

"Alright, enough nonsense!"

Gare waved his hand irritably. He picked up his Horse-Cutting Saber from the ground but didn’t sling it back over his shoulder, instead using it to lean on.

"So, Captain... what should we do now?"

Another guard asked cautiously, "It’s our duty, after all... Should we follow them and provide support?"

"Support my ass!"

Gare felt his blood pressure rising because of these guys. He was fuming.

"Follow them for what? Are you going to take their Magic with your head or dodge their arrows? You trying to get yourself killed?"

"Uh... so we just wait here?" the guard asked, scratching his head.

"We can’t just wait around doing nothing... That would be dereliction of duty."

Gare frowned deeply.

’This is a real problem.’

But he quickly came up with a solution.

Gare took a deep breath and spoke with a grave expression.

"This matter is beyond the scope of our duties. We need to have more professional people handle it."

Gare gestured grandly toward the main gate.

"Quickly! You, you, and you... Straighten your helmets! Go to the Security Team in town and file a report immediately! Have them come handle this! Run!"

The few guards who were singled out nodded vigorously.

"Yes, Captain! I’m on it!"

The remaining guards exchanged glances. After a brief, silent conversation with their eyes, they all reached a tacit understanding to "stand guard on the spot."

As for Patriarch Vance...

He would have to fend for himself.

Good luck to him.

...

Wenmir’s Main Residence.

The Dining Hall.

In stark contrast to the biting morning frost outside, the inside was pleasantly warm.

The fireplace was filled with fine pinewood and fragrant kindling. Flames danced merrily behind the cast-iron grate, warming the entire room to a comfortable temperature.

The faint aroma of baked bread filled the air.

At the long mahogany table, which could seat twenty people, only a single figure was present.

Vance sat upright at the head of the long table.

He had a white napkin tucked into his collar, and his silver knife and fork clinked delicately against the bone china plate.

Before him was a breakfast spread worthy of a holiday feast.

Ordinarily, given the Wenmir Clan’s dire financial situation, he would never have been so extravagant.

But today was different. Vance was in an exceptionally good mood, so he had specifically instructed Sangmik, the butler, to prepare a lavish meal.

On his plate were large, pan-seared lamb chops, the cut revealing a tempting pink interior, drizzled with mint sauce.

Alongside were numerous soft-boiled eggs, crispy buttered toast, thick slices of ham, and a small basket of freshly baked blueberry muffins.

Vance cut a piece of ham, dipped it in the runny yolk, and popped it into his mouth, his eyes narrowing in pleasure.

’Sure enough, when you’re in a good mood, everything tastes better.’

At this moment, his thoughts had already drifted to the Rose Castle on the outskirts of town.

Soon, he would receive his most handsome payment yet from the man in the black robe.

With this money, the restoration of the Rose Castle could finally be put on the agenda. Vance had even envisioned where the new family crest would hang.

His own reputation would surely soar.

Wenmir, this ancient and noble name that had lain dormant for so many years, would finally return to its rightful place and receive the respect it deserved!

This was the long-cherished wish of his ancestors.

’And I, Vance, will be the patriarch who revitalizes the clan!’

Two steps to Vance’s side, the old butler Sangmik stood ramrod straight like a javelin in his crisp tuxedo.

He held a stack of documents, taking advantage of the lull in Vance’s meal to report on various household matters in a low voice.

"My Lord, Jeff, the stone merchant from town, sent another collections notice yesterday. He said if we don’t settle the payment for the last batch of wall repairs, he won’t make any more deliveries next week."

"Also... the leak in the east tower’s roof has worsened. We must hire professional craftsmen to renovate it..."

In the past, hearing such news would have made Vance throw down his knife and fork in a fit of rage.

But today, he just waved his dinner knife dismissively.

"Tell that snob Jeff to shut his mouth. In a couple of days, I will throw double the Gold Coins in his face, with interest."

Vance took a sip of his black tea.

"And that damn roof, go hire the best craftsmen, use the best materials... From now on, don’t bother me with trivial matters that only cost a few Gold Coins."

"Yes, my Lord," Sangmik the butler replied obediently.

Finally, Vance set down his knife and fork.

But more than half of the food on the table remained untouched.

"I’m full."

Vance elegantly dabbed his lips with his napkin and casually tossed it back onto his plate.

"Take this to the kitchen and divide it among the servants. They deserve to eat something good for a change."

"You are truly magnanimous, My Lord," Sangmik the butler said with a slight bow.

Vance gazed out the window.

The heavy, crimson velvet curtains were drawn open, letting in the bright but not warm morning sunlight.

The distant mountains were faintly visible through the thin mist, and the ground was covered in a beautiful carpet of golden-red maple leaves.

This scenery was precisely where Falling Leaves Town got its name.

"The weather is quite nice today..."

Vance held his black tea and leaned back comfortably in his large chair.

’On such a fine day, it would be a terrible waste not to do something.’

"Sangmik."

"I am here, My Lord."

"Go to the stables and tell them to prepare the horses. And feed my hounds."

A smile played on Vance’s lips.

"I’ve been feeling full of energy lately. I’m going hunting this afternoon. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted wild venison."

"Very good, My Lord."

Sangmik the butler acknowledged the order. Just as he was about to call the attendants from outside to clear the table...

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP... PATTER-PATTER...

A chaotic drumbeat of footsteps broke the mansion’s solemn silence.

The sound grew closer, showing no signs of slowing down.

Vance’s hand, raising his teacup, froze in mid-air. His brows knitted together.

His good mood was quickly overshadowed.

"Have the servants gone mad?"

Vance slammed the bone china teacup back onto its saucer, splashing a few drops of tea.

"Don’t they know this is the main residence? What’s all this commotion? Is there no sense of propriety? Have they forgotten the dignity of the Wenmir Clan?"

"My deepest apologies, Lord Vance."

Sangmik hurriedly bowed his head in apology. "It is my failure to discipline them. I will handle it at once and ensure the person responsible is punished!"

He had just turned around when the doors to the main hall were violently thrown open.

A young male servant stumbled in, panting for breath, his chest heaving violently.

"It’s bad... It’s bad...!"

"What is the meaning of this?! Who let you in!" Sangmik the butler bellowed, furious.

"Something’s happened outside...!"

The servant pointed behind him in terror. "Someone has forced their way into the residence!"

"Someone has forced their way into the residence?"

Vance was stunned for a moment, then found the idea absurdly comical. "Who would be so bold?"

’This is the residence of the Wenmir Clan! A territory protected by the laws of the Kingdom!’

No sooner had the words left his mouth than heavier footsteps approached from outside the door.

They weren’t the steps of someone fleeing in a panic; they sounded more like an oppressive, deliberate approach.

And it sounded like more than one person!

’What’s going on?’

Vance was truly baffled.

’Someone actually dares to trespass on my territory?’

Falling Leaves Town may not be very prosperous, but public order has always been good.

Even a band of robbers wouldn’t dare attack the residence of Nobility in broad daylight.

’Are they looking to die?’

BANG!

The doors that had just been closed were violently kicked open.

As the dust settled, the faces of several people came clearly into Vance’s view.

Vance’s eyes slowly widened, his pupils trembling. His body, which had been leaning back in the chair, snapped upright.

’This...’

’How is this possible?!’

’It’s them?!’

"Well, well..."

Standing in the doorway, Zelir dusted himself off, a cold smile touching the corners of his lips.

"Look at that... we really caught you, Vance."