Which Came First, the Chicken or the Egg?

Bang!

As the invisible hand vanished, Galan fell flat on his backside on the ground outside the Palace.

"Hey, Mr. Galan, are you alright?"

Seeing Galan suddenly fly out of the hall, even the guard who had led him in seemed somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected that Lady Serie's distinguished guest would have such a refined and elegant way of leaving... No... it seemed as if he had been kicked out again.

Could it be that they had a falling out?

Seeing the guard's constantly changing expression, Galan knew that his current predicament could easily lead to suggestive thoughts.

It has to be the matriarch... She's quick to resort to violence at the slightest provocation, and her temper flares up faster than anything else.

I never expected that just mentioning it would lead to me being kicked out without any explanation.

He slowly stood up from the ground, patted the dust off his backside, and looked utterly helpless.

I thought this trip would be a good opportunity to make a positive connection and leave a good impression, but now I guess I won't need to come back again...

He now regretted bringing it up, but figured it was pointless anyway. So he glanced at the Palace one last time, then turned and headed towards the Inn. In any case, he had achieved his goal. The only thing that bothered him was Serie's final answer that she had intended to intervene.

But why didn't they make a move in the end?

Did we encounter some other trouble at the time?

However, this is not something that can be figured out by thinking alone, Serie obviously didn't give me a chance to ask... Oh well, I should go back as soon as possible.

Right now, everything about Lia flooded his mind again, making him feel confused.

Serie sat on a chair in the main hall, watching Galan's presence gradually fade away before letting out a long sigh. She shifted her position from the chair, one leg dangling above the ground and gently swaying.

Yes... I did intend to make a move, but why haven't I?

It wasn't because Galan had encountered any trouble, as he suspected, but rather because at that moment, Serie had a deep-seated feeling that she couldn't intervene.

She didn't know why, but at the time she felt she should stand by and do nothing.

In addition, having lived a solitary life for thousands of years, he had little affection for other members of his race. It was just the death of an Elf, which was not uncommon in the past thousand years.

Because of the war with the Demon King's Army, countless humans and Elves have died over the past hundred years. If everyone had to ask her, Serie, to save them, even with her immense power, it would be impossible for her to directly choose to eliminate the Demon King.

That's even more impossible; it doesn't align with her principles.

He prefers conflict to peace.

Only in times of constant conflict can more powerful magic be born.

With that in mind, she felt at ease choosing to sit back and watch the situation unfold.

But now, when Galan stood before him and asked about this, he had some guesses, and that feeling was precisely because of Galan in front of him.

Was it because something within that Elf had created a causal entanglement between him and the community?

If it wasn't like that, she couldn't think of any other possibility.

If that's the case, then she almost has a clear understanding of the matter.

"Teacher."

After Galan left the palace, the gilded doors remained wide open, and the old man slowly walked in from outside, stopping at the steps and respectfully bowing to Serie.

"Well, tell me, what did you hear? Or what questions do you have now?"

She waved her hand gently, signaling her disciple to dispense with formalities, and gazed dreamily at the distant flower field, casually asking a question.

Even though she knew from the beginning that the old man was listening outside the door, she wasn't angry about this overstepping of boundaries. After all, if she hadn't become interested in Galan's sudden visit, he wouldn't have taken the time to wait outside just to open the door for him.

Given his status, he would never easily stoop to do such a thing.

Serie sometimes indulges her disciples' unruliness, because capable people are often not the kind of people who follow the rules.

Only those who are unconventional and unexpected can she perceive as having potential for development.

The person before him was indeed the strongest disciple under his command.

The old man knew this very well, which is why he dared to eavesdrop.

"I've also dabbled in research on [Return Magic], but unsurprisingly, it all ended in failure."

"If I could use the [Goddess's Stone Monument] as a medium, perhaps I could also travel back to the past like Galan..."

,"Then what?"

Faced with her disciple's uncharacteristically incessant Serie simply asked in a low voice, without any hint of coercion, as if it were just a casual question, which made the old man stop talking.

"Foolish disciple... why did you return to the past...?"

She turned her gaze away from the flower field and focused intently on her disciples below.

"In order to master this profound magic."

The old man gave this answer almost without hesitation.

As he had done countless times before, he had a fervent interest and obsession with learning powerful magic, and it was this ambition that made Serie extremely satisfied with him, and he had not disappointed her too much.

Even if he couldn't compare to himself, the old man had been one of the strongest Mage among humans for many years.

Do you know why Galan has been able to survive until now without being rejected by the world?

This disciple does not know.

The old man adopted a humble attitude towards the person before him, his teacher, the strongest great Mage in history, Serie. It was not shameful for him to lower himself no matter how low he wanted to be.

"Because this world has its own 'cause' for him, and the future is the 'effect' for him."

"The world operates on cause and effect, and so does time. If he hadn't returned to the present, there would be no future for him, so his existence in this moment is inevitable."

Serie spoke slowly, seemingly having gained a full understanding of what had happened to Galan.

"But if that's the case... why can't my present, the 'future of this moment,' be the 'effect'?"

After listening to Serie's story, the old man pondered for a long time before raising this question.

If Galan can do it, why can't I?

Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?

Suddenly, Serie asked a seemingly nonsensical question, which the old man merely frowned at, then understood her meaning: Who knows which came first, the chicken or the egg?

This is the current situation for Galan; who knows how his "cause" and "effect" correspond?

In other words, his situation is not something that others can replicate.