Eye of Poseidon!

Leonard was taken aback, though he didn't show it. 'Many nobles have wizard heritage?' He hadn't known that before. He always assumed that knowledge of wizardry was limited to a select few, but Dybala's casual mention of his identity as a wizard made it clear that this was far from the case. There were more people aware of wizards and their power than Leonard had imagined.

'Could my teacher, Alfonso, be a noble too?' Leonard thought, his mind racing. 'He did agree to take me to Bangor Harbor... Could his reasons be tied to the ship in five months?' Alfonso had disappeared after their arrival, leaving Leonard with an unsettling feeling. 'Is he planning something?'

Dybala, noticing Leonard's silence, leaned forward slightly, breaking Leonard from his thoughts.

"You might not think much of our family's inheritance, but I know where the real treasure is," Dybala said, his voice low but filled with conviction. "The ancestor didn't just salvage the statue. He found several other magical items along with it. I had them identified, and they're all enchanted objects. I know exactly where they're hidden."

Dybala paused, watching Leonard closely, his expression hardening. "The ancestor even left behind the address where he found the statue. He called it the Eye of Poseidon. In his later years, he sailed there alone; vanished without a trace. And every inheritor since has disappeared in their later years. I suspect they all went there too."

Leonard's eyes narrowed. "You've been tracking these movements?"

Dybala nodded. "I destroyed the inheritance statue. If they want to continue the legacy, they'll have to go back to the Eye of Poseidon. They'll need a ship for that."

His voice dropped lower, "And I won't take a single penny from them when the time comes. No, this time, I do it on my own terms."

Leonard listened carefully, his face neutral. The idea of the Eye of Poseidon intrigued him, but he wasn't ready to jump into any plans just yet.

Dybala leaned closer, as if reading Leonard's silence as skepticism. "You're not thinking about how to get rid of me, are you?" His voice held a hint of playful menace. "You wouldn't be so cruel, would you?"

Dybala placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be wounded. "Really? If I don't come back from this, the whole city will know about it. I'll make sure it's all over the papers by tomorrow. You don't want to be on the wrong side of that, do you, my good brother?"

Leonard's eyes remained cold, his expression unreadable. "You don't think you can control me, do you?"

Dybala quickly raised his hands in defense. "No, no, I'm not trying to control you." The playful smile vanished, replaced by something much darker. "I only need your help once, just this once." He leaned in closer, his eyes intense. "Think of it as a father who lost his child, a husband who lost his wife, begging you. Please, Leonard, just this once. After that, I'll leave you in peace. I'll never bother you again."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "Let me hear your plan first."

Dybala's eyes gleamed with renewed hope. "They're preparing a ship to go to the Eye of Poseidon. I've read all the family's books. I know exactly where it is. The Eye of Poseidon is near an island, and we can ambush them there. By the time they catch a lot of fish, we'll be ready. We just need to board the ship, deal with the extraordinary people on it, and the rest will be easy. Ordinary people can't resist us. Then, we'll sail back to Bangor Harbor, and it'll all be ours."

Leonard considered the plan. It sounded simple enough, too simple, in fact. A part of him wanted to test Dybala's resolve, see if he could be trusted.

"That sounds like a good idea," Leonard said with a smile, clapping his hands together.

The moment he did, a swirl of dust began to rise from his palms, swirling heavier and heavier until it became a thick smoke. Dybala, mid-sentence, was caught completely off guard. The dust cloud, hiding Leonard's true intentions, engulfed him before he could react.

"You—" Dybala choked out, disbelief and rage flooding his voice. "You don't care about your identity being exposed, do you?"

Bang!

Dybala collapsed onto the sofa, unconscious before he hit the cushions.

David stood by the door, a confused look on his face, as if unsure of what had just happened.

"Body search," Leonard said without emotion, turning to David. "Why are you standing there?"

David snapped out of his daze. "Oh, right!" He hurried over to Dybala's prone form.

Dybala was dressed in a simple brown linen robe with two large, loose pockets. As David rifled through them, he pulled out a half-eaten piece of dried fish from the outer pocket. Then, from the inner lining, a small silver ring was revealed, rusted and unremarkable at first glance.

Leonard's eyes narrowed as he took in the ring. It was the standard size for a human finger, but it didn't fit Dybala's thick, bony fingers. 'So that's why he kept it hidden,' Leonard thought, his mind already turning over the possibilities.

Leonard stood over Dybala's motionless form, his face cold and expressionless. "I just want to carry out my experiments, why do you insist on dragging me into this?" He muttered under his breath. 'Why can't you just take your revenge quietly, like any normal person?' His gaze flickered toward the headless body, his thoughts darkening. 'Why involve me in this mess?'

Dybala's claims about loyal followers seemed laughable. 'How could someone locked away in a water dungeon for who knows how many years possibly have any loyal followers?' Leonard sneered, his mind turning over the absurdity of it all. The man had barely survived on dried fish; probably stolen and didn't even have a copper coin to his name. 'If he had any die-hard followers, they would've found a way to free him by now.'

As for Dybala's so-called inheritance of Poseidon or the treasure, Leonard wasn't interested in the slightest. 'The sea, huh?' Leonard thought. 'What if something goes wrong, and I can't escape? Am I supposed to swim my way out?' He scoffed. The idea of putting himself in a position with no way out was completely unappealing. He wasn't about to risk it for some mythical treasure.

'Still, it might be interesting to borrow from the Bolt family one day,' Leonard mused, glancing at Dybala's headless body. 'As for interest, I suppose I'll just have to deal with that later.' He sighed.

"Your story is moving, really," Leonard said aloud, his voice flat. "But I have people I need to protect too." With a smooth motion, he drew his staff and began casting a spell.

Acid missiles.

The spell hit Dybala's exposed neck, instantly dissolving it. The body twitched as it collapsed to the floor, now just a headless corpse. The surrounding ground bubbled and hissed as the acid ate through it, leaving small, charred holes.

Leonard's eyes narrowed as he observed the twitching body. 'I wonder if he'll survive without a head...' he thought. 'He's no ordinary man, after all.' With a sigh, he decided to be extra cautious. A second acid missile shot out, aimed at Dybala's heart. The powerful corrosion left a small crater, but Leonard felt a sense of relief. He'd taken the necessary precautions for now.

It would be better if I could learn a more precise spell that kills without damaging the body so much, Leonard thought, as he gingerly placed Dybala's now-mutilated body into the alchemy lab. 'Perhaps that's something for later.'

Turning to David, Leonard spoke, "Let's go. See if you can track the way he came here."

The mist outside had lifted, the streets now clear under the pale glow of the moon. David nodded, his nose twitching as he picked up Dybala's lingering scent.

They walked for half an hour in silence, the night air thick with the smells of salt and decay, before they reached a dilapidated hut near the old pier. David slowed as they approached, his eyes scanning the ground.

"The smell is strongest here," he said, his voice low.

Leonard took in his surroundings. The cabin was in bad shape. A hole in the ceiling had been corroded by some unknown substance, and the walls were full of wormholes. The air inside was damp and stank of fish. In the overgrown grass outside, remnants of fish bones and scales were scattered across the ground. It was clear Dybala hadn't been living well.

"Master, look," David called, crouching down next to a pile of debris. His hand reached into a shadowed corner, pulling out a small, weathered glass bottle. The bottle was smooth, rubbed clean of dust, and inside, something moved.

Leonard stepped closer as David gently removed the cork, revealing a piece of yellowed paper inside. He pulled the paper out carefully, and Leonard's sharp eyes noticed the childlike handwriting.

"I asked my mother why other children have fathers. My mother said that my father turned into a fish and went into the sea. If I write a letter to my father, will he come back to see me after receiving it?"

The drawing on the paper was crude, but Leonard could still make out a small boy holding an adult's hand in one and a fish in the other. A bloodstained scale, marked by a dark streak of red, was stuck near the fish's eye.

Leonard stared at the drawing, his thoughts racing. The boy's father, a fish? The fish's eye, bloodied? It seemed strange, almost eerie, and it gnawed at him. What kind of twisted legacy was this? What kind of family had Dybala come from?

"Did he...?" Leonard trailed off, his words hanging in the air as he turned to David. The connection between Dybala's history and this boy seemed too strange to ignore.

David, who had been silently observing, simply shook his head. "I don't know, Master."

Leonard tucked the paper back into the bottle, his mind still swirling with questions. 'What exactly is going on with this family?' He thought. 'And why does it all feel so… wrong?'

Turning back toward the cabin, Leonard's eyes narrowed. "Let's head back. We've got more to think about." The night was far from over.