"I’m getting the information I want whether you like it or not," Noah said, his voice dropping slightly.

He didn’t have to shout, his tone always making it clear that there was no room for debate.

"And after that, you can take her to the Magus Order."

He let the words hang there, making it clear that Lunge wasn’t being given a choice. He was being given a concession.

Noah was essentially telling the representative of the most powerful magical body in the land that he would allow them to have the scraps only after he was satisfied.

With a slight flick of his fingers, the crushing mana pressure vanished.

The change was instantaneous. One second, the air was as heavy as lead; the next, it was light and clear.

Lunge stumbled forward, his boots scraping against the stone floor as the sudden lack of resistance caught him off guard.

He gasped for air, his lungs burning as they expanded to take in the oxygen that had felt so thin just moments ago.

Lunge clutched at the fine fabric of his robes, his hand pressing hard against his chest.

His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, and a thin sheen of cold sweat had broken out across his forehead.

He didn’t look up immediately. He couldn’t. His body was still trembling from the sheer exertion of trying to stay upright under Noah’s gaze.

This was the second time he was being subjected to Noah’s mana pressure, and it was even more terrifying than the last.

’How?’ The question screamed in his mind. ’How is his mana pressure so strong?’

Lunge was a man who prided himself on his senses. He had spent decades refining his ability to read the mana signatures of others.

From the moment he had entered the room, he had been measuring Noah. From everything he could sense, Noah was only a low Arch Magus.

Lunge, on the other hand, was a high Arch Magus.

There was a fundamental gap between their ranks—a chasm that should have made any attempt at mana pressure by a lower rank laughably ineffective.

Yet, reality had just slapped him in the face.

The mana pressure Noah had exerted wasn’t just strong; it had been practically impossible to dispel.

His own power had felt like water crashing against a cliff side.

Noah’s mana was so refined, so unnaturally dense, that it didn’t just push against Lunge—it seemed to override his own control over the surrounding air.

It was a violation of the laws of magic that Lunge had spent his whole life studying.

As he slowly regained his breath, his mind raced back to the reports he had seen before arriving.

’ I also saw the ice mountain left behind by his attack,’ Lunge thought, a shiver running down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. ’To think he even has the capacity to change an area’s geography also!’

To create ice was one thing, but to spontaneously generate a mountain of frozen material so massive that it altered the literal landscape of the region? That required a reserve of mana that was terrifying to contemplate.

It wasn’t just about output; it was about the sheer quality of mana required to manifest something so permanent and large.

Lunge’s eyes drifted briefly toward the back of the cell.

Behind the heavy iron bars, Tara remained bound in her chains. She was a high-ranking threat that the Order had been tracking for months. She was a monster, yet there she was, slumped and defeated.

The reports had been clear: Noah had defeated her by simply channeling his raw mana out of his body.

He had overwhelmed a high-level combatant with nothing more than the pure, unadulterated force of his presence and a direct release of energy.

’All of these are things that are normally considered borderline impossible,’ Lunge realized, his throat feeling tight.

Even for the most talented Arch Magi in the capital, what Noah had done was the stuff of legends.

Channeling raw mana without a spell structure usually resulted in a messy, inefficient explosion of power.

It was like trying to throw a bucket of water at someone—it might get them wet, but it wouldn’t knock them out.

But Noah had used that raw mana like a spear, precise and lethal.

He was looking at a man who defied the very definitions of their craft. A man who sat at the level of a "low" Arch Magus but wielded power that could suppress a "high" one without even breaking a sweat.

Lunge’s frown deepened, the lines on his forehead etching into a map of confusion and dread.

The more he analyzed Noah’s impossible display of mana, the more a single name began to surface in his thoughts—a name that was spoken only in hushed tones within the highest circles of the capital.

’The last person I remember doing all of this...’ Lunge thought, his heart skipping a beat, ’...is the last Supreme Magus.’

The thought alone felt like heresy. To compare this masked man in a run-down guild basement to the pinnacle of magical history was absurd, yet the evidence was right in front of him.

The weight of the mana, the absolute authority over the surrounding atmosphere, and the sheer efficiency of the output—it all mirrored the legends of the man who had once stood at the absolute top of the world.

Not much was known about the last Supreme Magus who had died two hundred years ago.

To the general public, he was more of a myth than a historical figure.

The official records were sparse, and the history books used in academies were curiously vague about his specific abilities and his ultimate fate.

Most people knew he was powerful, but they didn’t know how or why. Information about his personal life, his specific combat style, and his research had never been released to the public.

However, a few people were still around who possessed the truth and Lunge was one of them.

Lunge was actually hundreds of years old. He had seen the man with his own eyes. He had felt that specific, soul-crushing pressure that felt less like a spell and more like the world itself was bowing down.

Magi were known to have far longer lifespans than normal humans. It was one of the many ways they were separated from the "lowly creatures" Kael so often despised.

The mana within a magus was not just a tool for destruction; it was a source of constant, internal preservation.

As a magus practiced and refined their core, the mana flowed through their veins and organs like a restorative balm.

It reinforced the cellular structure of the body, slowed the degradation of the heart, and kept the mind sharp long after a normal human would have faded into senility.

This internal saturation of mana was the reason Lunge could look so relatively young despite having lived through centuries of political upheaval and magical wars.

The stronger the magus, the more mana they could hold, and the longer they could theoretically survive.

For those at the level of an Arch Magus, living for three or four hundred years was not just possible; it was expected.

They became living monuments to their own power, their bodies preserved in a state of perpetual maturity by the very energy they commanded.

Ironically, the last Supreme Magus, who was meant to be at the very top of this power hierarchy, had not enjoyed such longevity.

It was a contradiction that had baffled the magical community for generations.

By all laws of mana theory, a Supreme Magus should have been able to live for half a millennium or more. Their bodies were essentially made of mana; they should have been nearly immortal.

Yet, he had barely lived up to eighty years before dying. To the rest of the world, eighty years was a respectable age for a human, but for a magus of his caliber, it was a tragedy—an unfinished life. He had passed away at what should have been the prime of his magical existence.

Till today, the true cause of his death remained a mystery.

The Order had claimed it was a natural death but Lunge, who had been there, knew that the official story was a lie.

Lunge looked at Noah, the mask’s blank stare reflecting his own inner turmoil.

It was the same sensation Lunge had felt when standing in the presence of the Supreme Magus centuries ago.

It was a quality of mana that shouldn’t exist in a "low" Arch Magus. It shouldn’t exist in anyone currently alive.

’Could this man be a descendant? A secret disciple? Or something even more impossible?’ he thought, his mind running wild at the numerous possibilities.

Lunge felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. If Noah possessed the same type of power as the man who had died prematurely, then the Magus Order wasn’t just dealing with a talented adventurer.