The Legend of Dungsworth

6. Cresty

“At last… someone has come, after eight years of my imprisonment!”

Inside the iron cage bound with golden chains, a middle-aged man with a ruined face rasped.

“The voice… it was yours?” Quincy Dungsworth tightened his grip on the Divine Staff, approaching cautiously. When he reached out toward the bars, the man cried out:

“Don’t touch it! The bars are coated with Fire Spiritual Energy. Bare skin will burn instantly!”

Quincy jerked his hand back. “Who are you, really?”

“I am the Headmaster of the Ironhart Institute—Neil Li. You may call me Neil.”

Quincy’s eyes widened. “I-It can’t be!” Suspicion clouded his face. Trusting a stranger so easily was dangerous.

Neil exhaled heavily. “I know… it’s not easy to believe.” His voice softened. “Eight years ago, I fought to defend the Central Lands against demons and beastfolk. I returned gravely wounded. On my way back to the Institute, I encountered Vice-Principal Benedict Kong. I never imagined… his treachery.”

He paused, breath ragged, before continuing.

“Benedict Kong opposed my ideals. He despised my decision to mix the weak with the talented. He claimed I tainted the Institute. I was already wounded, and he seized the moment. He struck me down, shattered my meridians, and sealed me in this place. You… are the first soul to find me in eight long years.”

Quincy listened, silent, his sharp young eyes analyzing every word. He could sense no falsehood.

“If your meridians were destroyed… how could you project your voice to guide me here?”

Neil chuckled hoarsely. “Not only observant, but clever too. I used the Wind Illusion Array placed on the hut’s white banner—originally meant to ward others away. And with a small mirror of White Spirit Stone, I could glimpse the surroundings. It was your wit that brought you here. A fool would’ve fled in fear.”

Quincy lowered his gaze. “No. It’s because I’ve given up on myself. I am the weakest student in the Institute, bullied daily. I didn’t care if following that voice led me to death. Last night, I only survived because of a relic… that staff.”

Neil’s dim eyes brightened faintly. “The Divine Staff of King Jigo?”

“You… know about it?”

“The staff would never choose a master without resolve. It saw the potential hidden within you—potential even you don’t yet see. You are no ordinary child.” He sighed bitterly. “If only my meridians were intact, I would’ve taken you as my only disciple.”

Quincy frowned, his expression earnest. “You have great knowledge. That’s a brilliant idea. Even if you cannot use spiritual power now, I’ll study herbs and medicines until I find a way to restore your meridians. As repayment for your guidance.”

He held up the book he had borrowed from the library. “Just as with this—tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

For Neil, it was like discovering a treasure worth more than diamonds. The boy’s sincerity shone through every word.

Then suddenly—

Flap! Flap!

A white cockatoo with a yellow crest swooped in, landing on the old wooden table.

“Benedict Kong is coming! Benedict Kong is coming!” it squawked loudly.

Neil’s eyes widened. “Cresty!” he muttered—the bird’s name. For eight years, this parrot had saved him from starvation, bringing scraps of food—an apple here, a banana there. When rain fell once a week, water dripped through the soil roof above his prison, pooling just enough to keep him alive.

“Damn it! The barrier’s destruction must have alerted him! If he finds you here, he’ll kill you without hesitation! Quick, hide!” Neil urged, panic in his voice.