Mayor Jack led Locke to the upper-left corner of Kalikala Town. A cluster of tombs stood there, and among the squat, single-story houses floated an enormous mausoleum.
Jack pointed at it. "Kalikala's disciples and their descendants built that mausoleum for him. There's nothing inside. He didn't want to attract the attention of death mages, so his real memorial grave is nothing more than a shabby mound in the woods next door, marked by a wooden tablet made from a piece of First-Ring Magic Plant timber."
"According to legend, and to the archaeological wizards who have surveyed this town many times, we're certain he had nothing to his name when he died. It's almost absurd. A great scholar of the School of Truth and Goodness in Wizard Land's Four Bright Waters, the Origin Wizard of Necromancy—and yet he died in poverty. He had two changes of clothes, a few experimental materials, and a half-burned candle. His last words to a stranger were: 'Tell everyone in this world who worships me and sees me as an all-powerful god: please don't come looking for me.'"
Jack sighed. "That's what comes of chasing fame and fortune. Look at us. We hid in this town and became hermits of the Wizarding World. When we were young, every one of us wanted to strive harder and compete more fiercely than anyone else. But before I came here, I was only a Star-Ring Wizard. I became a Moon-Ring Wizard after I entered this town."
Jack clasped his hands behind his back. "Leave the fighting behind and live free. Young man, I think a clever person would stay here with us."
Locke paused. "Mr. Mayor, you became a Moon-Ring Wizard after going into seclusion?"
Jack's lips curled into a proud smile. "Yes. But I was already at the