"Help～～"

"Please let us go."

"Water～water～I need water～"

The voices spread and echoed through the corridor, becoming blurry and ethereal, like echoes from hell.

They came from the people locked in the pens.

For five years, Logan Bennett had been trapped in White Stone Castle, so he naturally had no idea where Fiona Carter got these people from. The only thing he was sure of was that they were all unlucky souls abandoned by fate.

These people were kept in a dark, sunless basement all day, given only a tiny amount of food and water, and every so often, the one-eyed ogre Grod would take one or two from the pens.

When he first crossed over, Logan Bennett was in the pens himself. He knew that place was hell on earth.

Suddenly, a loud female voice came from the pens.

"I want to see the lord～I want to see your lord～Someone come～Take us to see your lord!"

Logan Bennett heard it clearly and couldn't help but sigh.

"Her voice is strong—she must be new here, still hasn't realized her situation."

Logan Bennett didn't want to meddle; he didn't have the ability anyway. He simply walked into his small room, closed the door, braced it with a stick, and groped around in the dark to light a whale oil lamp. The bean-sized flame temporarily drove away the darkness, bringing a trace of warmth back to the room.

Strangely enough, even in the wilderness, White Stone Castle could use whale oil, and it seemed cheap enough that even he could afford it.

"This world must have a fairly developed maritime and whaling industry. Sigh～～I wonder when I'll be able to leave this damned place." Logan Bennett sighed again.

There was very little in the room.

A big pile of dried reed stalks was spread on the floor in the corner—that was Logan Bennett's bed. In the middle stood a large tree stump covered in brown mold spots, serving as a table, and in front of it, a palm-sized cobblestone was the stool.

On the stump were two charred small animals—one was a rat, the other a large forest frog—Logan Bennett's dinner. These weren't provided by Fiona Carter; Logan Bennett had caught them himself with some effort.

Fiona Carter never provided food for Logan Bennett; for daily meals, he had to fend for himself.

Logan Bennett had long since gotten used to it. After a busy day, he was hungry. He sat on the stone, picked up a roasted rat, and began to eat.

"Heh～the rats in White Stone Castle are pretty fat. This one must weigh at least half a pound. Come to think of it, if Vera Smith had to live like me, she probably wouldn't have such a good opinion of Fiona Carter."

Fiona Carter treated Vera Smith much better than Logan Bennett. It wasn't luxury, but at least she didn't have to worry about food and drink every day.

He slowly chewed and ate the plump rat, even crunching up the bones, then rested for half an hour.

"Alright, time to exercise!"

Logan Bennett walked over to the reed mat, lay face down, and did push-ups.

"One～two～three～four...100."

Then he lay on his back, hands behind his head.

"One～two～three～four...100."

He got up, pretended to hold a rope, and started jumping.

"One～two～three～four...1000."

After about 20 minutes, Logan Bennett felt his whole body was hot, all his muscles burning, and a light sweat had broken out on his forehead.

"That's enough physical training."

Logan Bennett walked back to the reed mat, knelt on one knee, rested one hand on his forehead and the other on his lower back, closed his eyes, and held the pose without moving.

This was meditation.

According to Fiona Carter, meditation could increase magical power and was a lifelong practice for spellcasters.

At first, Logan Bennett used the basic meditation method taught by Fiona Carter. It had some effect, but was only slightly better than wasting time. Over the next year, with the help of his mental laboratory, Logan Bennett kept improving it and invented the "Contemplator's Meditation," which was more than three times as effective as the basic version.

Three times the effect, practiced continuously for over four years, meant that Logan Bennett's magical power was almost three times what Fiona Carter expected. This was Logan Bennett's biggest trump card for now.

Time passed unnoticed in meditation; it seemed like just a blink before it was three in the morning the next day.

Logan Bennett woke up on time, still remembering the task Fiona Carter had given him.

At four in the morning in winter, in the back garden of White Stone Castle, he had to collect pure dew—at least one bottle a day, or he'd get whipped.

The whip wasn't an ordinary one; it was a magical whip. One lash brought excruciating pain, so intense it seemed to shake the soul. Logan Bennett definitely didn't want to get whipped.

He got up, finished the roasted forest frog on the table, then groped his way to the enchantment room in the dark. After grabbing a crystal bottle, he headed toward the castle's side door.

As he neared the side door, Logan Bennett saw a blurry figure standing on each side.

The figures held long spears, heads drooping as if asleep.

When Logan Bennett got within about five meters, the figures suddenly raised their heads, making a 'crack-crack' sound as their bones rubbed together. Two crimson glows lit up in their eye sockets, staring intently at Logan Bennett's body.

They were the castle's skeleton guards.

Logan Bennett felt a chill under their gaze. He stopped, raised his hand, shook the crystal bottle, and said, "Pure dew."