I Hate Cultivators: Becoming a Mage in the Cultivation World

Elongated shadows from the towers flanking the enormous city gate swallowed the throng below. Carriages and pedestrians snaked forward at a grudgingly slow pace. The clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the creaking of wooden wheels, and the murmurs of the crowd filled the air. Constantine, head covered by a straw hat, moved with the line. His eyes darted from one corner to another, heart pounding as he sensed threats lurking in every shadow, in every carriage.

"Check him!" A shout from the front pierced through the noise, followed by the clanging of guards moving. Constantine's pulse quickened as he strained to see through the thick crowd.

'The line is moving too slowly, even with today's extra traffic. The guards are too vigilant. They must be searching for someone.' Nervously, Constantine tugged down his straw hat, trying to blend in. A child cried out for his mother beside him, and a man laughed, adding to the chaos.

"Check that brat too!" Another shout sliced the air. Constantine shook his head and began pushing through the crowd—the guards were too vigilant, something was wrong. His lean frame slipped through the gaps, moving swiftly, retreating further and further away.

As he pressed forward, he collided with an ugly man whose face twisted in anger. "Watch where you're going, brat!" the man snarled.

Ignoring him, Constantine pressed on, paranoia tightening its grip with each step. He slipped out of the crowd, merging with those moving in the opposite direction. A fleeting sense of relief washed over him when he glanced back and saw the guarded gate receding into the distance.

'Maybe just extra security for the parade? No, that ended hours ago. Maybe I'm too paranoid?' He pondered, trying to make sense of the situation. 'No, I must be paranoid if I want to get out of this.'

Constantine was wanted by the gang, couldn't return to his teacher, couldn't hide amongst the beggars, and couldn't escape the city—and with how corrupt the guards were, he couldn’t even trust them.

He sped up, weaving through the thinning crowd, and turned into a side street where the people vanished entirely. Mana surged warmly through his arms and legs. 'I need a better view.' He eyed the facade of the building to his left.

Taking a deep breath, he leapt, his hands catching a small decorative parapet. Muscles straining, he pulled himself up, leaping higher to hook his fingers around a window frame. With another powerful pull, the ground quickly grew distant.

With a final heave, he vaulted over the roof's edge and landed on top. The cityscape of countless pointy roofs sprawled before him. The tall city walls, the central palace, and the city aqueduct dominated the skyline.

Lying flat on the roof, he peered toward the gate, carefully observing the traffic moving in and out. The guards, their sturdy leather armor and blue cloaks standing out watched the only way out. Among them, cloaked figures kept pulling boys aside. He immediately noticed what they had in common: the same hair color and stature as him—all of them similarly looking to him.

Relieved that his paranoia was well-founded, he muttered, "They bought the guards and are now watching the only escape route."

His attention snagged on a simple carriage loaded with crates rolling toward the gate. Many were moving in both directions. Silently, he remained observing, eyes slightly squinted against the sunlight. 'Maybe I can smugg—' His thoughts trailed away as a carriage was pulled aside, guards opening the crates and scribbling into scrolls. 'No, all carriages are checked to calculate tariffs.'

Glancing one last time at the guards and gangsters searching for boys like him, he made a plan. Climbing down from the roof, he joined the trickle of people heading toward the market. If he wanted to slip away, it had to be today, with the crowds of people filtering in and out of the city for the parade offering him the perfect cover. He wanted to get out as soon as possible, tired of looking over his shoulder and being scared by every shadow.

One hour later:

A boy, his reddish hair waving in the slight wind, freckles dotting his face, moved nervously with the crowd. His rotund belly bulged beneath his clothes, and his hair was cut short. The setting sun elongated the surrounding shadows. His heart pounded as the massive stone towers of the gatehouse grew nearer.

His observations gave him confidence in his disguise. The guards and the gang were overwhelmed enough by the influx of people that they could only check those with key features. Yet, sweat covered his palms. 'What if they notice something? What if I—'

His disguise was cheap, and improvised. He was sure it wouldn’t hold up under closer scrutiny. He slowed his steps, mingling into a larger group behind him, praying and hoping the guards wouldn’t notice him. He tensed at the sight of guards in capes and hooded gangsters overseeing the crowd from elevated stations. He couldn’t stop now. Steadying his steps, he marched down the narrow road. The gate's tunnel loomed like the gaping mouth of a beast, the raised portcullis its sharp teeth.

The shadow of the gate arc enveloped him, cooling his overheated head. He quickened his pace, confidence surging. 'No one is pulling me aside, no one is stopping me.'

The reddish sunlight blinded him as he finally stepped out of the gatehouse, his heartbeat calming down. He didn't dare to look over his shoulder as he continued down the road, green pastures and forests, and golden fields spreading before his eyes. The crowd thinned, dispersing over the wider road.

He couldn't believe his simple disguise—stuffing his clothes to change his figure, using rusty water to alter his hair color, and painting freckles on his face—had worked. Or perhaps it was just good enough to blend into the crowd. Relieved, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, his eyes widening in panic—his hand was covered in the rusty color. The improvised paint he used didn't hold up on his sweaty, overheated body.

Keeping his pace steady to avoid panicking, he looked over his shoulder. 'Maybe they didn't notice from a distance—' He froze, his eyes meeting those of a hooded figure at the checkpoint behind him, his heart skipping a beat.

A sudden yell jolted him. "You, stop right now!"

His pulse hastened along with his steps, deliberately ignoring the command, hoping it wasn't aimed at him, even though he knew he had just screwed up again.

"I told you to freeze!" He heard again, sets of heavy, armored steps quickly approaching. He continued walking, warmth gathering within him, ready to strike at the moment of notice. His heart raced, his steps faltering.

"Get him!" He heard, the heavy steps behind him accelerating. He felt a cold gloved hand on his shoulder, firmly holding him in place. Directing the heat of mana into his leg, he kicked backward, a crunching sound and a scream of pain following. He launched forward, mana shooting him forward with the speed of a leopard. He was exhausted, muscles strained from his earlier escape, but he couldn’t relent.

The crowd scattered, people fleeing in all directions. Shouts echoed behind him, the clanging of metal fading into the distance. He dashed down the road, his eyes locked on the looming silhouettes of trees in the distance, the forest being his best hope to lose his pursuers.

'Fuck!' He cursed, his mana gathering onto his legs as he gained speed, his muscles burning in pain, his lungs hurting from overuse, the warmth quickly cooling down, his mana reserves vanishing. Each step he nearly flew, each one propelling him two meters forward, the immense speed making his colored hair fly in every direction.

Leaping off the road, he ran across a sea of green. The grass bent beneath his steps, the guards' shouts and footsteps fading behind him. Without mana, they couldn't catch him.

He glanced back, terror widening his eyes. Riders on horses burst from the gate, their capes snapping in the wind as they rapidly closed the distance. ‘Damn it!’ He could outrun a man, but not a horse. He kept running, the trees drawing closer, the thud of hooves echoing behind him.

The pain in his legs intensified, but he couldn't give up.

"You little turd! Stop, or I will fucking run over you, crushing your bones!" He heard, far behind him. He could already see the shadows of the trees, so he gathered even more heat into his legs, his speed, as well as the searing pain, increasing even further.

The sound of hooves grew fainter. In a few strides, he reached the forest, each step propelling him meters ahead. He leapt over a bush, swerved around a tree, vaulted over a root, and redirected the heat from his legs to his arms, gripping the nearest tree trunk and pulling himself up.

The ground receded as he leapt into the branches. He held back his ragged breath, heart pounding so fiercely he feared it might burst. The pain in his legs was so intense, he ground his teeth to stifle a scream.

'Did they see me climb up here?' He prayed, hoping the bushes and tree trunks covered his climb.

The hooves drummed closer, yelling of men and neighing of horses echoing below him. He cautiously peeked down; riders passing below, vanishing deeper into the forest. At last, he released his breath, panting in ragged breaths to catch up with his oxygen deficit.

'I can't, I need a break.' He couldn't believe how close he was to being caught.

Hugging the tree closer to make himself smaller, he sighed. His life was heading in the right direction, his identity as a young genius slowly gaining prominence, but now he had to throw it all behind his back due to a single mistake.

He was tired, tired of being so weak, forced to always run away.

Climbing higher into the tree's branches, the boy quickly reached the denser part of the tree. He rested his head against its trunk, catching his breath. His legs were sore, his breath ragged, and the warmth within him was extinguished, leaving behind only emptiness and coldness.

'I will wait until sundown.' With the riders still around, searching for him, it would be foolish to move out in the open. Even though his hideout wasn't perfect, it was good enough—at least he hoped, his legs too weak to carry him any further.

Two Hours Later:

POV ???:

The bulky man smashed his hand against the armrest of his velvet-draped throne, the bang resounding through the dark basement room. His eyes, reddening with fury, drilled into the scarred man kneeling before him. His rageful scream echoed between the four walls, "You can't catch a single brat?"

"Boss, he was fast and strong, almost like—"

The boss cut him off furiouselly, "Damn you, I don't give a fuck about your excuses!” he calmed down a bit, ”At least you got the book." His gaze greedily ogled the old leather-bound tome resting on his lap, calming his nerves. "You are lucky. This time, I will let you off."

His trembling lieutenant bowed deeply, scraping his forehead against the stone tiles. "Boss, thank you for your immense generosity."

"Do not bother me anymore. You can go." Humungus waved impatiently, ogling the cultivation manual in his hand. "And you can stop chasing that brat. It's too much effort to hunt him outside the city. We already got what we needed."

Humungus gritted his teeth in anger at his men's incompetence—allowing the brat to escape not once but twice. But as he looked at the book, he calmed down. 'You got lucky this time, brat. But you have no idea what you've left behind.'

He couldn't comprehend where that boy had found such a treasure—a treasure that could change one's life. 'This book is the key to power, the key to dominance,' he thought, his pulse quickening with excitement. 'With this, I will rise above all the other gangs. I will rule over the slums.'

Visions of unparalleled strength and fearsome influence swirled in his mind. 'Who can challenge me when I unlock the secrets of immortality? Who will dare to stand in my way?' His mouth twisted into a malicious grin, revealing his missing teeth. 'Today marks the beginning of a new era. An era where I rule supreme.'

As he turned the pages of the manual, the ancient symbols and diagrams filled him with a sense of destiny. His fingers traced the lines of script, absorbing the knowledge within. 'The brat was a fool to leave this behind. Now, all its power belongs to me.'

With renewed resolve, he clutched the manual tighter, envisioning the unstoppable force he would become. 'The world will soon know the name Humungus, and it will tremble in fear.'