Tower Apostate

"This is precisely what puzzles me."

Bronson's gaze was once again firmly drawn to the red crystal in Roland's hand.

After a moment, he forced himself to look away, his brow furrowed, and began pacing back and forth in the somewhat cramped room, the soles of his shoes making a faint creaking sound against the wooden floor.

After a long while, his footsteps suddenly stopped, as if he had remembered something important, and he slowly began to speak.

"I once read in an ancient book about a certain understanding of this world. The specifics are a bit hazy now, but the general idea was..."

Bronson looked up and out the window. As the bright moonlight fell on his face, his voice became low and hoarse.

"Everything in this world follows the cycle of reincarnation."

"Just like flowers bloom in spring and wither in autumn, eventually turning to rot to nourish the soil. Streams surge down from mountain peaks, converging into vast oceans, only to rise as clouds under the scorching sun, repeating endlessly. Stars are born in the vast night sky, shine, and then annihilate, their dust giving birth to new light."

As he spoke, he subconsciously wrapped one arm across his chest, while the other hand bent its fingers to rest on his chin.

After a long period of contemplation, he said with a hint of hesitation.

"So I wonder if Magical Essences also follow the same cycle."

"You mean to say..."

Roland looked at the crystal in his hand, which was shimmering with a faint red light, and tentatively summarized.

"Magical Essences are slowly reawakening on this continent?"

"This is merely my conjecture, but..."

At this point, Bronson's brow furrowed even tighter, and he pointed to the red crystal in Roland's hand.

"I'd rather this be a coincidence, because, as far as I know, hundreds of years ago... this continent was not as barren and silent as it is now."

His gaze deepened, and his fingertips gently brushed across the tabletop, as if touching a buried memory.

"The air back then was filled with Magical Essences, flowing as naturally as breathing."

"The trees in the forests could grow to hundreds of meters tall, their branches and leaves shimmering with a faint, ethereal light. The water in the streams wasn't just water, but liquid Magic Power imbued with life force; a single sip could heal wounds. Even the most ordinary stones might have nurtured sentience over long ages, becoming living stones..."

"Wizards weren't as rare and mysterious as they are now. They walked between cities and wilderness, using Magic Power to build bridges, heal illnesses, and even alter the weather."

"And ordinary people could use simple rituals to borrow Magic Power from nature to accomplish small tasks, like lighting a hearth or ripening crops. It was an era where humans and Magic Power coexisted."

Roland listened intently, the red crystal in his hand feeling slightly warm, as if responding to the description.

"But later..."

Bronson's voice suddenly became heavy.

"Magic Power began to decline. No one knows the exact reason, but according to ancient records, when Magic Power began to wither, the people of that era called it the Year of the End, because they knew a glorious era was about to conclude."

"Wizards found casting spells increasingly difficult, the light of the forests gradually dimmed, and creatures that relied on Magic Power either went extinct or degenerated into their current forms."

He gave a wry smile and pointed to the dark night sky outside the window.

"Look, the current night sky only holds the light of the stars themselves, but in the records, hundreds of years ago, the night sky was filled with the aurora of Magic Power, like veils and mist, dazzlingly beautiful."

He paused, a complex emotion of longing and worry flickering in his eyes.

"But that era was also full of danger."

"The monsters born from the nourishment of Magic Power were far beyond anything comparable today. They were massive, cunning, and ferocious, some even possessing intelligence comparable to humans."

"Humans, Elves, Dwarves... all races had to unite just to barely drive them into the dark corners of the world."

Roland looked down at the crystal, murmuring.

"So... if Magical Essences are truly reawakening..."

"If Magical Essences reawaken, even if monsters have degenerated into their current weak forms, they will adapt faster than us. It will take time for other races to regain their mastery of magic, but monsters... only need instinct."

At this point, Bronson felt a dryness in his throat, and his tone became somewhat urgent.

"And the Dwarves, Elves, Orcs... these races saw their strength gradually weaken after the Year of the End and had to choose to lie dormant."

"But if Magical Essences truly begin to reawaken, will they really be content to let humans continue to dominate this continent?"

Roland tightened his grip on the red crystal, his knuckles turning slightly white.

"So, the reawakening of Magical Essences doesn't just mean the return of magic..."

"It means the return of war."

Bronson slowly shook his head.

"The Year of the End concluded the previous era, and now... we might be standing at the beginning of another."

After his words fell, the room fell into silence.

Seeing Roland's furrowed brow, Bronson finally snapped back from his vivid description.

He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, the passionate fervor of a moment ago completely gone.

"Roland, you don't really need to worry too much..."

Bronson reverted to his usual timid demeanor, unconsciously twisting the hem of his clothes.

"Everything I just said... it's all just from ancient records. If... I mean, if."

He stammered, his eyes darting about as if searching for the right words.

After a moment of silence, he suddenly looked up, a spark of inspiration flashing in his eyes.

"If you knew enough, you'd realize that history itself,"

Bronson straightened his hunched back slightly, his voice gradually growing firmer.

"is like a blank piece of parchment, left for later generations to write on as they please. Furthermore,"

He paused, his tone becoming more steady.

"even if the Magical Essences truly began to recover, it would take at least several hundred years to return to the peak state before the Year of the End."

"By then, you and I would have long since turned to dust, and there would be no need to worry about what happens then."

"I understand what you mean, Mister Bronson."

Roland nodded gently.

Undeniably, the scene of the Year of the End that Bronson had just described had indeed given him a strong shock.

But now that he had calmed down, those horrifying scenes seemed somewhat unreal.

Roland looked down at his own worn-out cuffs, then glanced out the window at the muddy manor path.

Life here was almost indistinguishable from medieval Europe.

If he hadn't personally seen the legendary Kobolds, he would have thought this was a world without any trace of magic.

And the Year of the End that Bronson spoke of...

That was practically a mythical era.

Elemental tides swept across the continent, and magic was as common as breathing.

Compared to this remote, impoverished place where even lighting relied on oil lamps, it was like two completely different worlds.

Roland took a deep breath, pushing aside what Bronson had told him for the time being.

He calmed his emotions, then suddenly looked up as if remembering something, a meaningful curve forming on his lips.

"Mister Bronson, what you just said..."

He deliberately drew out his tone and took a step forward.

"is probably something even those high and mighty Nobles might not know. So..."

"Who exactly are you?"

"Uh..."

Seeing Roland's increasingly robust physique, Bronson involuntarily took two steps back, his expression turning somewhat strange.

This scene felt familiar.

It was like that day in the mess hall when he had asked Roland where he knew the term "Silver Dust" from.

"This kid... is he doing this on purpose or not?"

Thinking of Roland's embarrassed look that day, Bronson muttered a few words under his breath, then simply sat back down in his chair, spreading his hands.

"Alright, Roland, since we've come this far, and you've already agreed to be my assistant, then I won't hide anything from you anymore."

His expression suddenly became melancholic.

"I come from the Tower, the place where Wizards are said to live, but I was expelled because I could never master the Meditation Technique..."

"And if you still want to inquire about the Tower, I'm very sorry."

Bronson gave a wry smile and tapped his temple with his finger.

"I've had a restriction placed on me, like the curses in common novels. As soon as I have any intention of revealing secrets about the inside of the Tower, I will die on the spot."

"To be honest, even my own recent memories are starting to blur. Everything about the Tower is slowly disappearing from my mind..."

Hearing this answer, Roland wasn't particularly surprised.

Through their time together, and their recent conversation, he had already roughly guessed Bronson's identity.

Even if he wasn't a Wizard, he was definitely closely related to one.

Seeing Roland's calmness, Bronson seemed somewhat unwilling to have his embarrassment exposed and quickly recovered, retorting.

"What about you, Roland? Who exactly are you?"

"Me?"

Roland smiled slightly.

"Just an ordinary person with a bit of talent in Forging..."

In the end, Bronson couldn't get the answer he wanted from Roland.

After all, Roland couldn't tell him about the Profession Panel.

However, as Bronson himself said, he wasn't one to pry.

Seeing that Roland didn't want to talk more, he didn't press further and instead began discussing the specific time arrangements for Roland's role as an assistant.

Walking along the quiet path in the manor, the smile on Roland's face gradually faded. The scenes described by Bronson, as well as the recent monster disturbances in the Black Fir Forest and Dawn Territory, involuntarily surfaced in his mind, stirring a sense of urgency within him.

"I must improve my strength as soon as possible!"

With this thought, Roland quickened his pace back to his dormitory.

After a simple wash, he lay down on his bed and quickly fell asleep.

He neither wasted time nor tossed and turned sleeplessly because of Bronson's words.

After all, tomorrow was the day of the Blacksmith Apprentice assessment.

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Thank you to my two foster fathers for your support. May you have good fortune in all seasons and success in all endeavors!

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