He's At Least From the Roman Empire Era.

The view stretched out to an endless expanse of snow. The wind blew fiercely, and snowflakes danced wildly in the air like torn cotton.

Heilang ran desperately through the snow, terrified. But the snow was too deep; every step sank him in, consuming several times the energy it would on flat ground.

A pack of Icefield Snow Wolves followed him at a leisurely pace from a distance. Their eyes glowed with a faint green light, filled with the bone-chilling coldness and greed of the snowfield. They had been hungry for a long time.

They were patient, not wasting a shred of energy or taking unnecessary risks, quietly waiting for their prey to gradually exhaust itself. Then, they could obtain food effortlessly.

But if you thought this meant their combat strength was weak, their sharp teeth and the pack's coordinated attacks would teach any arrogant person to show respect.

They were undoubtedly at the top of the food chain in this snowfield.

Heilang finally couldn't hold on and collapsed in the snow. He had no strength left, and his clothes could no longer stop his body heat from escaping. He lay in the snow, feeling his life nearing its end.

He seemed unwilling, gripping the snow tightly, trembling as he tried to get up again. But his body felt as heavy as if it were bound with iron, and he couldn't rise.

In the end, he was still just a human, unable to contend with the forces of nature.

The surrounding wolves also quickened their pace at this moment, preparing to close in. The hunger in their eyes was almost palpable, their scattered footsteps like the march of death.

"Thump~ Thump~"

Just then, the ground began to tremble, the vibration gradually reaching his body from afar. Heilang struggled to lift his head, opening his heavy eyelids to look in the direction of the tremors.

The wolves that had been closing in became visibly uneasy, pacing back and forth anxiously.

Something even more terrifying than them was approaching...

Finally, with a long howl from the Wolf King, they abandoned the prey they had been tracking for so long and fled into the distance.

Heilang's pupils widened slightly.

With a surge of steam, a colossal beast, shrouded in a blizzard, gradually revealed its form before his eyes. It looked like something crudely pieced together from wood and iron, utterly lacking in aesthetics.

Regardless of whether it could move, the fact that such a structure could maintain its form was already incredible.

The front featured a giant, grinning steel face with a mechanical red tongue inside.

Below were four mechanical legs, somewhat resembling chicken claws, advancing alternately. The mechanical legs were quite slender compared to the mass they supported, making one worry if they could bear the behemoth above.

The entire structure maintained a feeling of being on the verge of collapse yet being remarkably stable.

At this moment, Heilang also remembered the true purpose of his journey.

In the town where he lived, a legend was passed down.

In the northern polar snowfields, there lived a mysterious Sorcerer. He was handsome, possessed immense magical power, and resided in a peculiar castle, consuming the hearts of beautiful maidens.

But no one had ever seen the protagonist of this legend, for he lived in the northern polar regions, a desolate and icy snowfield, a death land that had claimed the lives of countless adventurers.

The castle stopped beside him and opened its doors, as if waiting for him to enter.

Up the steps was an open doorway, and Heilang could see the warm fireplace and the food within.

With a strength he didn't know where it came from, he got up from the snow and walked into the room. As he entered, the door behind him automatically closed.

Compared to the cold outside, this room was warm and comfortable.

After opening the door and walking up a short flight of stairs onto the wooden floor, a strong smell of decay filled the room.

The first thing that caught his eye was the fireplace in the room. Orange-red flames blazed fiercely in the hearth.

Judging by the hearth's construction, it also served as a cooking surface.

However, the most striking sight was the man sitting before the flames.

He wore a long coat and had thick, short hair, quietly warming himself by the fire.

His high-bridged nose reflected the firelight, as if coated with a thin layer of glaze.

"Hello," Heilang asked tentatively, "My name is Heilang. Thank you for saving me."

The man didn't turn around but remained silent for a moment before saying, "You're welcome. I was just passing by."

He raised a finger and pointed to a red sofa on the side, saying, "Sit down and warm yourself. Your body is very stiff."

Heilang reacted, sitting down on the sofa somewhat nervously. The sofa looked like it had been there for a long time, its color dark and mottled with some black spots.

The man then added a log to the fire.

Outside the window, the light snow gradually turned into a blizzard. The wind howled, battering the windows as if in a rage. Some ice crystals formed outside the window, but inside, it was as warm as spring.

The crackling sound of the fire burning the wood dispelled the chill from his body and the fear in his heart.

The man continued, "Are you exploring this snowfield?"

Heilang then remembered the purpose of his journey.

He hurriedly got up from the sofa, knelt before the man, and exclaimed excitedly, "Esteemed Sorcerer! I... I need to ask you for a favor."

The man turned his head, looking at him with some confusion, but still said, "I am just an ordinary person, not some Sorcerer."

But how could Heilang believe him? He continued to lower his head and said.

"I know what price I have to pay. Although I'm not a beauty, you can take my heart!"

The person's expression became even more bewildered, but fortunately, Heilang didn't look up at all, so he didn't see his expression.

Soon, he reacted and accepted this premise.

He paused and continued.

"So, you risked your life to cross the snowfield alone, just to ask me for help?"

"Yes!" Heilang pressed his head against the ground, trembling all over with fear. "This is the only way I could think of. That person is a noble, and his influence is too great."

"It sounds like a cliché story."

The person thought for a moment and continued, "I have some questions for you. If you can answer them, I might consider it."

Heilang looked up, hope shining in his eyes.

"Yes, ask me anything, and I will answer."

"Which country does this snowfield belong to? Does it have a king? If not, what kind of political system does it have? What is the situation in the rest of the world?"

The string of questions made Heilang a little confused.

It wasn't that they were too difficult, but rather too basic. Even people from remote northern towns knew at least the name of their country and some basic history.

However, according to legends, most sorcerers were learned individuals. The demeanor and conduct of the person before him were definitely not those of an uneducated illiterate.

Or perhaps...

Heilang seemed to have thought of something and couldn't help but ask.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long, I just arrived here myself," the person said.

Not long.

Heilang confirmed his guess. The legend of the Snowfield Mage had been circulating in his town for at least three to five years. For the person before him, three to five years was "not long," which could only mean that his sense of time was different from that of humans. Heilang guessed that he must have lived in seclusion somewhere for a very long time, possibly even for hundreds of years.

He paused and began to explain.

"This snowfield is not suitable for human habitation; it's almost a no-man's-land with no belonging country. But further south is my hometown, Romir, which belongs to the Britannia Empire."

"Britannia?" The person murmured softly. He actually knew this name, or rather, most people were familiar with its other pronunciation: 'Britannia.' "I remember this name; it's the Italian name the Roman Empire used for the island of Britain."

Heilang looked at the person, thinking, As expected.

The Roman Empire.

He must be from the Roman Empire era.

In that case, he must be over a thousand years old...

Heilang's heart grew solemn, and he continued to explain:

"Now it's the ancient Roman Empire. The Roman Empire has been gone for a long time, but the name does indeed come from there. Moreover, the Britannia Empire and the island of Britannia are no longer the same place."