Wild Mage

Shadow Realm.

Gawain had no idea what the human nations of today understood about the Shadow Realm, but in the inherited memories, the Gondor Empire of over seven hundred years ago had conducted considerable research in this field. Those scholars, gray-haired from their endless studies, spent day after day poring over dry tomes and data, staring at the lattice gauges buried in Magic Wells as they tried to deduce the world's true form. One classic model was used to describe the world's "layers."

In this classic model, scholars believed the world was divided into several "realms." The uppermost was the most stable Material Realm, where everything followed discernible laws, could be directly touched, and was easy to observe. It was also the realm inhabited by the vast majority of living things. Beneath the Material Realm lay the Shadow Realm, which most humans could not directly access. The Shadow Realm was a distorted reflection of the Material Realm. Ordinary humans could neither touch nor observe it directly, but they could sense and measure it through magic and techniques of the spiritual domain. Beneath the Shadow Realm was the Umbral Realm, an even more illusory and mysterious region, a reflection of the Shadow Realm. It had reached a point where no magic or Mental Power could probe it. Only when some fortunate mages captured a few Shadow Creatures with basic intelligence and the ability to communicate did they infer the existence of the Umbral Realm from those creatures' fragmented words.

Some more radical scholars extended this classic model even further. They believed that deeper realms might exist beneath the Umbral Realm, but that layer belonged to the domain of the gods—the "Foundation of Origin" laid down by the Creator when this world was made. It was no longer something mortals could study.

In Gawain's understanding, this model was like layers upon layers of translucent parchment. The real image of the world lay at the very front, while its shadow was cast upon each successive sheet, becoming blurrier and more distorted the farther back it went.

He and Amber were on the reverse side of the first sheet—the Shadow Realm.

Even as merely the second layer, it was already a place most humans had never set foot in.

Wisely, he did not ask Amber why she possessed the ability to enter the Shadow Realm at a time like this. From what Amber had just said, he could tell that this was also her first time "entering somewhere this deep." Pressing her would probably get him no answers.

This world still held many secrets worth exploring. There were many things that could not be understood just by hanging in the sky for many years.

After some simple consideration, Gawain felt that following Betty's footprints was their only lead.

But before leaving the scene, he still turned back uneasily. Heti, Rebecca, and the others remained frozen there in the state of "porcelain dolls." Their actual bodies were resisting the Vengeful Spirit Mist in the real world, but their projections in the Shadow Realm had been frozen at the instant of the attack, while black mist seeping up from underground continuously eroded them.

Fortunately, judging by the speed at which the mist was corroding them, they still had some time.

"Maybe this is what the Vengeful Spirit Mist really looks like." Amber followed Gawain's gaze, then shook her head. "How much do you think we could sell this discovery for to the Arcane Society or the Starcaller Association?"

"They'd force-feed you a pile of potions, tie a recording crystal to your head, then cast a banishment spell and throw you into the Shadow Realm as a living probe," Gawain said, rolling his eyes at Amber. "Keep up. We have more important things to do."

Amber trailed after Gawain, still muttering, "But you could be the one to approach them. You're the founding ancestor of Ansu, after all. They wouldn't dare force potions down their ancestor's throat, would they?"

"What do you think?" Gawain tugged at the corner of his mouth. "They'd be happy to hang me on walls, write about me in books, put me on altars, and even have the king lead his entire family to lay flowers for me every year, while conveniently giving himself three days off. No risk, and they get a good reputation out of it. But if this ancestor actually jumped out of his coffin, the first thing those people who put me on a pedestal would do would probably be to shove me right back into it, hammer more than two hundred nails into it from every direction, and the crueler ones would likely pour in molten lead..."

Amber stared at him in shock. "Why?!"

Gawain glanced at the Half-elf who simply could not take a hint and snapped, "Because the whole country would lose its three-day tomb-sweeping holiday!!"

After saying that, Gawain strode forward, leaving Amber behind to process it for quite a while before she suddenly shouted, "Wait! You got it wrong! There's no holiday when they visit your grave! The three-day holiday is only for commemorating the founding kings! You died too early, so you wouldn't know..."

Gawain nearly face-planted.

Still, although he had dismissed Amber's idea of selling information about the Shadow Realm, Gawain had plans of his own. He was filled with curiosity about this Shadow Realm—or rather... about this entire world.

So one day, he would figure it all out.

That trail of footprints did not extend very far.

Perhaps because the Shadow Realm's environment was so unusual, the usual sense of distance from the Material Realm did not work here. Gawain and Amber had only followed the footprints for a short way when a wooden cabin abruptly appeared before them.

The cabin was small and dilapidated, and no one knew how long it had stood here. A broken fence surrounded it, though from how sparse the fence was, it probably could no longer serve any defensive purpose. At one corner of the cabin, Gawain noticed a patch of color.

It was the color of moss, especially conspicuous in this black-and-white world. As time passed, that tiny patch of color was rapidly fading.

Betty's footprints extended all the way to the cabin door.

Amber drew her small dagger and nervously gestured with it before her chest. "In a moment, sir, you just charge in with Divine Descent and cut them down like vegetables. I'll cover you from behind..."

Gawain thought for a moment and restrained the urge to grab Amber by the collar and throw her inside to test for Landmines. Instead, he placed one hand on the hilt of the Pioneer's Sword and cautiously pushed open the gray-white door with the other.

Yet no attack came.

The cabin's interior was simply an ordinary room, old and shabby, like a black-and-white photograph from long ago.

But someone was inside.

A bearded man in a tattered short robe sat behind a square table in the middle of the cabin. He looked so haggard and weathered that Gawain could not determine his true age. Behind him stood two wooden shelves filled with bottles and jars, as well as an old alchemy table.

Magical experiment equipment could be seen everywhere in the room, but all of it was piled together with even more broken clutter. Any normal mage who saw this impoverished and miserable sight would probably feel the urge to cry.

The man behind the square table raised his head and looked in Gawain's direction. He gave a stiff smile. "Ah, guests... It has been a long time since guests came to my laboratory. And there are two of you?"

Amber poked her little head out from beside Gawain. The Half-elf girl's face was full of wariness. "N-no fighting?"

Gawain did not draw his sword, but neither did he let his hand stray far from the hilt. Maintaining a posture that allowed him to attack at any moment, he stepped into the cabin. "We're passing through and looking for someone—a girl around fifteen or sixteen years old. She was carrying a frying pan..."

Yet the man behind the table seemed not to have heard Gawain at all. He merely smiled dully and nodded slightly. "Please, find somewhere to sit. Annie is preparing lunch. There's nowhere to rest in these deep mountains and forests, so if you don't mind, stay and eat with us."

"Annie?" Gawain asked instinctively.

"My daughter," the man said with a smile. "She's very obedient."

Just then, a girl cried out from nearby, "My lord?"

Gawain followed the voice and saw Betty standing beside a small door in the corner of the cabin, her face filled with surprise.

"Betty? It's good that you're all right." Gawain immediately breathed a sigh of relief. "I came to take you back."

But Betty shook her head slightly. The man behind the square table also turned toward the little girl and asked gently, "Annie, is lunch ready?"

Betty nodded obediently. "Almost, Father."

The little girl turned and slipped back into the kitchen. Gawain and Amber exchanged a glance. After confirming that the strange man behind the table had no reaction, they followed her inside.

Betty was cooking in the kitchen with her treasured frying pan. A cluster of pale Flames danced in the stove, while sausages sizzled in the pan.

Amber's attention was focused somewhere unusual. "You can actually cook in the Shadow Realm?"

"What's going on?" Gawain came to Betty's side and asked quietly.

From the little girl's expression and behavior, he could tell that she was not under the effects of a spell like mind control. Yet she had willingly remained here to cook, and she called that strange man outside "Father"—which was truly rather odd.

"I don't really understand either." Betty wore her usual slightly muddled expression. "But that person outside seems to have mistaken me for his daughter..."

Amber's eyes widened. "And you just obediently accepted him as your dad?"

Betty shook her head. "He's very pitiful... so I wanted to make him a meal before leaving."

Gawain and Amber looked at each other.

Then Betty suddenly reached into the pocket of her Maid dress, rummaged around, and pulled out an old notebook, which she handed to Gawain.

"My lord, here—he gave this to me. I can't understand a lot of what's in it, but you should be able to."

Puzzled, Gawain took the not particularly thick notebook and hurriedly flipped through the notes on its final pages.

Amber curiously leaned her head closer. "What is it? Let me see, let me see... Magic formulas? Rune arrangements?"

Dizzied by those complicated symbols and calculations, the Half-elf girl lifted her head and stared blankly at Gawain. "So that weird old man is actually a mage?"

"Strictly speaking, he's a Wild Mage." Gawain rolled up the notebook and rapped Amber on the head with it. "And when you came in and saw all that magical experiment equipment, you still couldn't tell?!"