An Unfulfilled Journey

"Ho ho! Galan my boy's healing potion is truly a miracle! I feel like I've been favored by the goddess right now."

"Just properly tend to your wounds, you wounded patient."

Reed wrapped his chest in thick bandages, leaning against the stone chair he had created, rambling as he laughed and patted Galan on the back.

When Duncan and Galan defeated Charas and turned back to tend to the unconscious Reed, they found his breathing already extremely weak, hanging by a thread with one foot already stepped into heaven.

Fortunately Galan had brought the trump-card healing potion he brewed last time, feeding it to Reed with the mindset of treating a dead horse like a live one.

It was quite a distance from here to Rogley, and even if they used flight magic the whole way, by the time they entered the city and found a church with priests, he would probably have gone stone cold.

Fortunately, however, Reed was saved in the end.

To survive a direct blow from a Greater Demon, one really had to say he was a man of great luck.

It seemed this medicine was indeed stuff that could save lives... What a pity a bottle was used up after such a short time.

In stark contrast to Reed, who roared with laughter and shouted to the night sky, "Heaven will not let me die," Galan's mood at the moment was depressed to the extreme.

Not only did he lose most of his life savings, but he also used up a precious bottle of potion.

That heartache was something only he could understand.

He was clearly just going to look for the Red Mirror Flower, so how did he run into this kind of business.

"It's fortunate the one who saved you wasn't a priest, otherwise hearing you talk like this he'd definitely regret not sending you to hell."

Duncan sat by the burning campfire, speaking faintly.

His monocle gleamed under the firelight, holding half a piece of bread in his hand.

He was always in the habit of breaking a loaf of bread into two sections, yet every time he only ate one half, not knowing who he wanted to save the other half to share with.

The crackling firewood burst into sparks, and a warm physical sensation returned under the baking, dispelling the chill of the night.

It was now late autumn, and after the sky darkened it still made people feel somewhat cold.

"Well, anyway, being able to kill a Greater Demon and survive, this life of mine was worth it. It's just a pity there are no other witnesses to spread our mighty name—don't you think so, Galan my boy."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Galan really didn't want to keep discussing this nagging middle-aged man; if he had known his mouth was this shattered he wouldn't have saved him.

My potion...

"I didn't think Rogley would have an apothecary as skilled as you,"

Duncan, who had been sitting to the side and listening to the two chat, suddenly spoke softly.

He hadn't spoken much from the end of the battle until now, seeming to be thinking about something.

"You flatter me, you flatter me, I only brewed this medicine because of good luck, I don't have any stock left."

Galan repeatedly belittled himself, fearing this future Chief Mage of the Empire would want to make bulk purchases from him.

This kind of medicine wasn't something that could be mass-produced, as Locke had scoured every nook and cranny around Rogley just to get him back a single stalk of Purple Moon Dragon Grass.

"I've thought for a long time and don't remember ever seeing you, but why is it you seem so familiar with me."

Unexpectedly, his words took a turn, and he suddenly turned his head to meet eyes with Galan.

The sharp gaze beneath the monocle seemed capable of seeing through people's hearts.

Was his intuition actually this terrifying... One really had to say he was worthy of being Duncan.

He was clearly only in his thirties right now, yet in viewing people and affairs he revealed a ruthlessness inappropriate for this age.

No wonder he could fight his way out of the backstabbing, sword-glinting imperial court to reach a position second to none, holding the power and might of this political game in his later years.

Should he tell him the truth directly?

Galan lowered his gaze, his brain thinking at high speed.

No, it was better not to expose his identity.

Whether as a transmigrator or a warrior in the shadows, neither identity was something that could be displayed out in the open.

"In my early years I traveled across various places in the north, gathering various herbs, and went to many cities. Once I was in Weise, and there, I seemed to have seen a boy wearing a monocle just like you, practicing magic by the lake with his teacher."

Galan met Duncan's gaze, speaking very naturally without revealing a single flaw.

For a warrior in the shadows skilled at living under a forged identity, achieving this degree was still quite easy.

Upon hearing the three words [Weise], a rare trace of confusion appeared on Duncan's face, or perhaps... reminiscing?

"Is that so, it seems we really have a deep affinity, that boy was indeed me."

He turned his head away and didn't ask further, seemingly not wanting people to perceive the intense emotion rising within his heart.

Indeed... As long as his hometown was mentioned, those surging memories were enough to drown this boy who had wandered in place for most of his life, stopping him from continuing his questioning of himself.

The early death of his wife Lecktire and Weise, turned into the [Golden Land] by Macht using the [Diagoldze], were like a door covered in years of dust, sealed deep within his heart.

Outside the door, there was forever a tender boy with a medal of honor pinned to his chest, his hesitant hand raised and then lowered, unable to face his own heart.

"What did Duncan come here for? Are you traveling?"

Galan turned his palm over by the campfire, changing sides to bake.

"No... I'm just passing through here by chance. My original plan was to go to Weise to pay my respects to my deceased wife, but now the remnants of the Demon King's Army seem to be frequently creating trouble, and wanting to enter the northern plateau requires a first-class mage's certificate, otherwise the guards watching the city gates won't let you pass the checkpoint at all."

"It seems recently is the time for the first-class mage exam to be held, aren't you going to participate? The next one will make you wait three years."

Hearing this, he didn't answer, only quietly looking at the campfire. His stern profile was illuminated brightly by the firelight, seemingly plunged into thought once more.

"...Perhaps I still need some time to prepare... It's better to go back after a few years."

"Is that so."

Galan originally wanted to say something more, but that hesitant tone and expression also couldn't help but make him feel sorrowful for Duncan.

What a tragic first half of his life; he clearly could have had a bright future and a happy family, yet the goddess played such a joke on him.

But at least over thirty years later, his purpose this time would still be realized.

After a long wait, the wish also turned into an obsession, pushing that white-templed, stooped old man to march toward his hometown regardless of everything.

Even if the abyss lay ahead, he would not hesitate.

"It hasn't been easy, Duncan my boy, you must have experienced a lot of hardship to get to today."

Reed, sitting on the stone chair, heard the two men's dialogue and unusually did not act crazy.

"Come to think of it, I'm also very irresponsible. My wife just gave birth to a child yet I couldn't go back to properly take care of her, and could only write a letter to give the child a name—Oh oh—since it's a boy I named him Richter..."

Big brother, how come this topic of yours feels a bit derailed? Compared to that, your life is truly considered complete alright, don't come and stimulate Duncan.

The emotion that had just arisen was completely disrupted by Reed's ramblings, and Galan couldn't help but massage his forehead in self-pity.

Wait... You said your son is named Richter?

Suddenly, he seemed to recall something.

After carefully savoring this name, amidst his shock he closely sized up the bandaged face beneath Reed's wraps.

It really did look a bit similar.

Yet in some aspects there were still certain differences.

In terms of personality they were even two completely different people.

However, was this also a joke played by the goddess?

Galan suppressed the strange emotions in his heart, looking at Duncan and Reed with a meaningful gaze.

If he told them that in the first-class mage exam over thirty years later, Duncan would fight side by side with Reed's son Richter, what kind of thoughts would they have?