When the word "Mage" was uttered, both sides changed color simultaneously, a flicker of fear mingling with suspicion in their eyes.

*Hmph. Mages must hold high status in this world. And I’m no fraud.* To prove it, I murmured an incantation. A yo-yo-sized fireball danced lightly on my fingertip.

The next moment, a burly, bearded man from the mercenary group leapt from their defensive line. He rushed toward me, his expression as ecstatic as if he’d just seen his mother resurrected after thirty years: "Honored Mage! You’ve finally arrived! Thank the stars the captain kept you as a last resort. I’m Seth of the Red Wolf Mercenaries—we’ve been waiting desperately for you!"

*Huh? Do I even know this bearded guy?*

Seth leaned in, his voice dropping to a rapid whisper: "Save us, Your Honor. We’ll repay you handsomely afterward." He even shot me a meaningful glance.

*What a sly old fox. Trying to drag a neutral party like me onto their side.* But then I reconsidered: I’d already been mistaken for their ally, and these bandits clearly feared me. Why not do a favor and earn some coin?

Clearing my throat, I turned toward the bandits and spoke in a low, grave voice: "I’m in a generous mood today and wish to avoid bloodshed. Leave now, if you value your lives."

The bandits huddled together, whispering nervously. They were wary but reluctant to abandon such rich prey. Silently, I cast an eavesdropping spell to catch their words.

Bandit A: "Boss, our informant said this cargo’s worth at least 500 gold coins! We can’t just let it go!"

Bandit B: "But they’ve got a Mage backing them. This is risky."

Bandit A: "He hasn’t attacked yet—he’s probably all bark. Might even be an apprentice. We can take him."

Bandit B: "You fool! Killing a Mage? The Mages Association will hunt us to the ends of the earth. Those old bastards in the Mage Towers? They’d dig us out of our graves if they had to."

Bandit A: "Ignore this coward, Boss! He wouldn’t even mount a whore in a brothel. Strike now while they’re unprepared! Kill them all, bury the bodies, sell the goods, and scatter!"

The bandit leader remained silent, his face shifting between doubt and resolve.

My heart pounded. True, I was a Mage—but with barely a month of training and zero combat experience. If they charged, I’d be torn limb from limb.

Thankfully, my plastic mask hid my panic. I forced my voice steady: "Hmph. Vermin mistaking mercy for weakness. Seth! Withdraw immediately. I won’t have your corpse mangled by my magic."

I raised my hands and bellowed an incantation: "Abracadabra! Hocus-pocus! By the power of the heavens—*perish!*"

Wind howled violently around us. Nearby creatures scattered in terror. Both mercenaries and bandits paled, eyes wide with dread.

In truth, I was only vibrating air molecules with raw mana—no real damage. But these fools knew nothing of magic.

Seth, the quickest thinker, gaped at me and shrieked: "By the Morganite God! It’s the legendary *Scorching Sky Cataclysm*! Run! Don’t get caught in the blast!"

He bolted faster than a rabbit. His panic infected the bandits. Cowards broke ranks and fled. Their leader finally waved his hand—and the entire gang vanished into the forest like smoke.

I cut the mana flow, relief flooding my chest. I spat theatrically. "Pathetic rabble. Daring to challenge me? If not for my grandfather’s death anniversary forbidding bloodshed today, they’d all be fertilizer for the forest."

Behind the mercenaries’ makeshift barricade lay a merchant caravan of over ten wagons. The merchants, who’d been cowering behind carts, now peeked out with awed stares. None dared approach. Among them, a young woman with a glimpse of delicate features watched from the shadows.

Finally, a plump, richly dressed middle-aged man hurried over, bowing repeatedly. "I’m Leonard, owner of this caravan. Honored Mage, you’ve saved our lives—"

"No need for formalities." I flicked my sleeve, the picture of a reclusive master, then turned to Seth. "Remember our agreement."

"Of course! Absolutely!"

Seth whispered urgently to Leonard, who nodded vigorously. He returned moments later with a small pouch, beaming. "A humble reward for your valor. Might we learn your esteemed name?"

*An alias fitting this world...* I recalled a fantasy novel protagonist from my high school days. "Raelin," I declared. "Raelin Black."

Unbeknownst to me, the name *Raelin Black* would soon echo through the Araliem World—teetering between infamy and glory.

Leonard’s eyes widened in exaggerated realization. "The *great* human Mage Black! Forgive my blindness! I’ve longed to meet you—my admiration flows like a surging river—"

*This flattery is disgustingly thick. Raelin Black doesn’t even exist here.* Yet, flattery never failed. I waved a hand dismissively. "I prefer humility. Spare me the praise."

"No exaggeration, I swear!"

"Leonard, you’re... remarkably earnest."

His flattery had purpose: "Honored Black, we escort precious cargo to Saxton City. But our route was leaked. The roads ahead..."

I was headed to Saxton City anyway—the nearest human settlement to Moonlight Forest. "Very well," I conceded smoothly. "I have business with the Mages Association. I’ll accompany you."

"Endless gratitude!"

"Though... my funds run low lately. You understand."

"Ah! Naturally! Of course!"

I joined the caravan. To honor their "esteemed Mage," Leonard surrendered his largest carriage.

Spacious despite being a wagon, it held a plush bed, a small desk, and bookshelves. I flopped onto the bed and gleefully counted the gold coins in my pouch. Each bore a crowned man’s profile on one side, seventeen tiny stars encircling the reverse. The weight, the sheen—pure gold.

Like a miser, I counted them again and again. *Real gold. Worth a fortune back on Earth. A new gaming rig. All-you-can-eat hotpot every day...*