The black thorn, sharpened at both ends, was about one meter long.

Leon stared at the thorn, his eyes following the flow of mana being drawn into it.

The earthen wall it had embedded itself in had long since crumbled. Yet, the thorn remained unmoving, continuing to siphon mana from both Leon and Zirkar. It seemed that the wall had only served as a catalyst to intensify the thorn's effect.

Leon then noticed that the tip of the thorn was beginning to swell, as though it were expanding like a pouch, absorbing the mana flowing into it.

As the tip swelled, its sharpness dulled, becoming more blunt as the mana was absorbed. The pouch-like expansion continued to grow from both ends of the thorn, perfectly balanced without favoring either side.

With all of his mana being drawn into the thorn, Leon could do little else but observe.

The thorn’s ability appeared to be limited to draining mana, and aside from that, there were no other unusual effects.

A phrase spoken earlier by his opponent crossed Leon’s mind.

"Turn you into a slave, huh?" Leon muttered to himself. The man in front of him, Zirkar, a high-level sorcerer, let out a chuckle upon hearing his words. Zirkar was a large man with curly brown hair, not exactly fitting the image of a typical slave trader.

According to Jubel’s information, Zirkar had once attended the Imperial Academy as a gifted magician but had left for reasons unknown, never completing his studies.

"I wonder how long you can keep that calm expression on your face."

Zirkar merely stood there, observing Leon, as three traders behind him placed their hands on his back, nervously supplying him with mana.

Leon’s core continued to drain rapidly, feeding the black thorn, but so did Zirkar’s.

Yet, despite their standoff, Zirkar made no move to attack.

Leon found it strange.

While Leon had his mana suppressed, rendering him unable to act, Zirkar—having initiated the thorn’s effect—seemed to be in the same situation. Was it possible that he, too, couldn’t attack while using this bizarre artifact?

‘And why hasn’t anyone else attacked me? They could easily overpower me in this state.’

Leon had never encountered a battle like this before.

But despite the strange nature of the situation, Leon didn’t feel particularly threatened. Even though his mana was being drained, he could always retreat into his orb, effectively escaping. In fact, he was somewhat relieved that Zirkar hadn’t fled, making the situation more manageable.

However, Leon still couldn’t fathom what Zirkar’s ultimate goal was.

“You’re holding out quite well. Curious, aren’t you?” Zirkar said, smirking at Leon’s silent response, his arrogance growing with each passing second.

“All you have to do is wait for your mana to run dry. Enjoy the feeling of helplessness as it consumes you!” Zirkar laughed mockingly.

After a brief pause, Leon calmly asked, “...How are you so sure my mana will run out first?”

Zirkar stopped laughing abruptly, his expression twisting into disbelief.

“Kid, can’t you see the magicians behind me?”

Leon glanced behind Zirkar, where several mages stood, looking visibly exhausted as they channeled their mana into Zirkar.

“They’re giving you mana?”

“Hmm… Not just for decoration, I see. Do you think you can handle not only my mana but theirs as well?”

Zirkar’s confidence was absolute.

However, Leon remained unfazed and asked again, “What if I can?”

Zirkar burst into even louder laughter.

“Hah! You wouldn’t be the first fool consumed by his arrogance. Plenty before you thought they could stand against me. They all ended up as my slaves. You’ll meet the same fate.”

“...So, if someone’s mana is depleted first, they become the other’s slave?”

“It’s too late to understand now.”

Zirkar’s laughter was filled with disdain and mockery, but as time passed, the atmosphere began to shift.

Mana continued to flow into the thorn from both sides, causing the pouch-like ends to swell. However, Leon’s mana showed no signs of running out.

Leon couldn’t help but suppress a smile.

Unlike most magicians, Leon had consumed thousands of elixirs to enhance his mana over the years, leaving him with a pool of mana far larger than the average mage.

It would take at least five high-level sorcerers to match his mana reserves.

In the past, using SSS-ranked spells like The Light of Creation and Curse of the Black Night had left him feeling drained, but compared to most mages, his mana was anything but ordinary.

Additionally, small mana crystals hovered around Leon, slowly replenishing his spent energy.

And if things became dire, he could retreat into his orb to restore his mana. The moment he entered the orb, he would be outside the range of the thorn’s ability, freeing him from its influence.

As Leon grasped the situation more clearly, he looked at Zirkar with an intrigued expression.

It felt almost like a competition to see who had more mana.

What would happen if Zirkar’s mana ran out first? Would he become a slave, as Zirkar claimed? Or perhaps the thorn would withdraw before that point?

A long silence passed.

Predictably, Zirkar’s side began to show signs of weakness first.

The black thorn started tilting slightly toward Leon’s side.

Zirkar’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You… What kind of mana reserves do you have?”

“Is it already over?”

Leon had only expended about one-third of his mana—this was after enduring two battles prior. His mana crystals continued to replenish what he had lost.

Zirkar’s face hardened as he realized the gravity of the situation. He raised his hand and commanded:

“Come out.”

From the dark room behind him, five individuals stepped forward silently.

Their wrists and ankles were shackled, their expressions filled with despair. Without saying a word, they moved behind Zirkar, placing their hands on his back.

Their mana, too, began flowing into Zirkar.

The original group of magicians, now fully depleted, collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

Leon tilted his head in curiosity and asked, “Why aren’t you attacking me?”

Even in this strange situation where both sides’ mana was being drained, it seemed odd that none of Zirkar’s allies tried to attack Leon.

“…”

Zirkar avoided answering, his gaze shifting away.

‘Could it be that the thorn prevents interference from third parties?’

Leon wondered if this might be one of the thorn’s abilities.

“We’ll see how long you can keep that smug look on your face,” Zirkar spat.

Leon smiled and retorted, “Didn’t you say that before?”

“You insolent brat…”

Zirkar’s expression grew serious. He seemed to finally realize that there was more to Leon’s calm demeanor.

With a grim look, Zirkar pulled out a small vial and swiftly downed its contents.

Leon immediately recognized the potion as one of the temporary mana-boosting items he had encountered as a reward. It was a consumable artifact that increased mana for a short time.

‘So external mana sources work too… I suppose that makes sense, considering my mana crystals are functioning as well.’

Leon eyed the new individuals behind Zirkar, estimating their strength based on the flow of mana into Zirkar. They were certainly stronger than the first group.

‘Were these people made into slaves through the thorn as well?’

If so, the number of slaves the thorn could create wasn’t limited to just one.

Zirkar began to grow uneasy as he noticed Leon’s unshaken confidence. His eyes darted toward the mana crystals floating around Leon, and his expression darkened as realization set in.

“Impossible…”

“Do you have more people hiding somewhere?” Leon asked.

“…”

Zirkar didn’t respond. His face grew pale, and it seemed he had no more potions left to rely on.

The flow of mana into Zirkar steadily decreased.

Finally, the black thorn tilted completely toward Leon’s side.

One by one, the people behind Zirkar collapsed, unable to endure the drain on their mana.

At that moment, the mana pouch at the tip of the thorn burst with a pop, sending dozens of black branches shooting toward Zirkar.

The branches wrapped around Zirkar’s chest, piercing his body in a circular pattern.

“This… can’t be…” Zirkar groaned.

Unable to resist, his face contorted in pain.

The thorn’s tendrils burrowed into his flesh, writhing across his skin, creating grotesque markings. These markings swelled and darkened, turning black as they spread across his body.

At the same time, the mana pouch on Leon’s side detached and flew into his hand, shrinking down to the size of his palm. It transformed into a black sigil identical to the markings on Zirkar’s chest.

As Leon grasped the sigil, he felt his mana return under his control, filling him with a sense of liberation.

He retrieved the scattered swords that had split into ten, now returned to their original form.

Leon activated a detection spell to understand the sigil’s abilities.

What he discovered left him astonished.

The black sigil was a tool that granted complete control over its marked slave—Zirkar.

But that wasn’t all.

The sigil’s holder could command the slave to do anything, even order their death. Once marked, the slave had no choice but to obey.

Leon’s gaze shifted to Zirkar, who was now kneeling on the ground, gasping for breath.

As Leon infused mana into the black sigil, he gave his first command.

“Come to me.”

“Nngh…”

Zirkar, gritting his teeth, struggled to his feet. His massive frame trembled as he staggered forward, stopping in front of Leon.

His rigid posture resembled that of a golem. Yet unlike a golem, Zirkar was still a sentient being, fully aware of his situation.

Leon used basic telekinesis to lift the fallen black thorn and bring it before his eyes.

“Explain it to me.”

Leon’s voice was cold and steady.

“This black thorn… is an artifact called the Mana Scales. It forces the one struck to compete in mana, with the loser becoming… a slave…”

Zirkar tried to resist as he spoke, his body twitching as if convulsing, but his will no longer mattered.

He knew, better than anyone, that resistance was futile.

“So, it all comes down to mana?”

“…Yes…”

“And how long does this enslavement last?”

“…For… life…”

Zirkar’s eyes were filled with despair as he uttered those final words.