Are Raven women?
The Black Robe Wizard didn't know.
Are Raven beautiful women?
The Black Robe Wizard never had the chance to find out.
In response to his questioning.
Lina appeared calm and peaceful.
"Yes, we don't need to know, or rather," Lina nodded firmly, her tone solemn, "We cannot, and should not, try to fathom the thoughts and actions of the gods..."
She used that word; in her mind, Ian was already equivalent to that position.
"Since Chi chose to 'confirm' rather than 'descend' in this way, there must be a reason behind it. Perhaps Africa is not Chi's first stop; perhaps there is a more urgent and hidden 'disaster' or 'anomaly' that Chi needs to deal with first; perhaps Chi simply wants to see the world after Chi has saved it in a more ordinary and inconspicuous way... There are many reasons, but they belong to the realm of Chi's will."
One can only say that he truly lives up to his reputation as the Raven Prophet.
Lina's imagination of Ian is always very positive.
She looked at the still bewildered Black Robe Wizard, smiled, and patiently continued to explain, "Remember, child. Our duty here is 'to watch' and 'to remain silent.'"
"We guard this door, silently bearing witness to the legend of the pool. The return of the robe is itself the greatest affirmation and reward for our duty. As for when, how, or even if the pool needs to meet us... that's not up to us." "We only need to wait." She paused, her tone becoming softer yet firmer: "Master Saruman and the warrior Karg, they have long since passed away peacefully, completing their magnificent lives in tranquility. As for me, because of this mark of the 'prophet,' because of that special connection with the pool, I have been able to transcend the years beyond that of ordinary people, living to this day, becoming one of the last witnesses and guardians of that ancient history." "This is already an unparalleled grace and mission. We cannot ask for more, nor can we overstep our bounds." Lina's words also explained the final fate of Saruman and Karg.
Not Legend.
Ultimately, they cannot live for a thousand years.
Although the young Saruman inherited the memories and brief power of the original, older Saruman, he ultimately failed to take that step in his lifetime.
The reason is quite simple.
Without absolute conviction, one cannot transcend the Deteriorating Magic Era, where the connection between heaven and earth is severed.
"Is that so?" The Black Robe Wizard listened, and the excitement and confusion in his heart gradually subsided, replaced by a heavy sense of responsibility and an inexplicable calm.
Although he had forgotten the specific secret.
But Lina's words revealed an absolute trust in a higher will and a steadfast commitment to her duties.
He was also infected.
"I understand, Instructor Lina." He nodded and looked at the Bronze Door. "Then... what should we do next?" "Do what we're supposed to do." Lina walked to the door and, as she had done a thousand times before, gently wiped away non-existent dust from the door with a soft cloth soaked in a special Potions.
Her movements were devout and meticulous. "Continue to guard this place, maintain the tranquility of this forbidden zone, and ensure that the silence of the ' Raven Legend' is not disturbed by irrelevant people. The door is still here, and that is enough. It is a symbol, a coordinate, a... possibility." Lina seemed to realize something, and she turned to give the Black Robe Wizard an encouraging smile, "And you, rest well and adapt to your 'new life.' The 'marks' on you are a memorial to history and a tool for the future. Perhaps one day, when Chi needs them, this unique 'perception' will come in handy."
Well, how should I put it?
Lina handled the riddle-solving aspect very well.
perhaps.
People who live longer tend to enjoy being riddle tellers more often.
This is true of any world.
No era can escape it.
"I understand." The Black Robe Wizard touched the shadow scar on his face. This time, there was no unease, only a strange sense of belonging. He nodded solemnly.
The two fell silent, and the observation room returned to stillness. Only the massive Bronze Door stood there, its luster dull, as if the brief moment of brilliance and anticipation had never happened. But the lingering scent in the air, the throbbing of the mark on Lina's chest, and the even stronger conviction in their hearts all silently proclaimed this.
The Raven have returned.
However, the first piece of land that the wings touched was not here.
Well, how should I put it?
Ian was indeed not as outstanding as Lina thought.
They don't have that many tricks up their sleeves.
He himself was completely bewildered that he had been teleported to another place.
"No, I'm following the Raven Mark; I should be going to my prophet."
Almost at the same moment that the Bronze Door in the observation room beneath the Silent Tower of the African Ministry of Magic completely lost its light and returned to silence.
Far away on the eastern shore of the North Atlantic, in Europe, in the United Kingdom.
London.
It's no wonder this place is called Fog. A typical English drizzle is falling from the sky, the fine, soft raindrops soaking the brick buildings of this ancient city, the misty water vapor over the River Thames, and the dark umbrellas of hurried pedestrians into a gray, cool, shimmering mist.
Raindrops pattered on the stone pavement, making a soft rustling sound that blended with the distant sounds of city noise and the chimes of the clock tower, creating the city's unique and constant background music.
All I saw was...
In a quiet back alley, there are piles of garbage bins waiting to be emptied. The walls are covered with damp, dark moss and old graffiti. Rainwater drips down the rusty fire ladder and the cracks in the bricks, forming puddles of varying sizes on the uneven ground.
In this tranquility.
In the air, a faint spatial ripple, imperceptible to ordinary people and even ordinary Wizard, was like the final ring stirred up by a pebble thrown into calm water.
It spread quietly and then subsided.
Immediately afterwards, a figure appeared without warning in the deepest shadow of the alley, as if he had always been standing there, only to be outlined by the light just now.
It was Ian Prince.
"Where have I ended up?" His dark robe seemed to have automatically evaporated all the moisture and dust that did not belong to this era or this place, making him look neat and unassuming. He was out of place with the dilapidated environment around him, yet strangely blended into the shadows, completely inconspicuous.
His face still carried a faint trace of fatigue from traversing time and space and performing high-dimensional operations.
But his eyes, in the dim light of London's rainy day, appeared exceptionally bright and clear, quickly scanning his surroundings. "It's really cold, but thankfully my body is incredibly strong, I can't feel it." Ian exhaled softly, his breath condensing into a small wisp of white mist in the cool air before quickly dissipating.
His first step was to feel himself.
Within him, the power that fused the dual authority of [ Erosion of Chaos / Foundation of Order ] was like a slumbering deep sea, vast and calm. Compared to its activity and agitation during the final battle in R'lyeh and when it devoured Cthulhu's body, it had now completely settled down, achieving a deeper level of fusion and balance with his soul and will.
The Magic Power foundation belonging to the " Legendary Wizard " was not diminished after all this; instead, it was like refined steel that had been repeatedly tempered.
It has become more solid and robust, carrying a sense of composure and stability that comes after undergoing the ultimate test.
"I've become stronger, and I'm still not bald." Ian could clearly sense that his understanding and control over Magic Power, rules, and "existence" itself had leaped to a completely new level. Every gesture he made seemed to trigger a subtle resonance of the surrounding Magic Power. More importantly, there was that "authority."
Although most of its power is self-sealed and stabilized for protective purposes, its mere "existence" establishes a transcendent "observer"-like connection between it and the fundamental structure of the entire world.
He could vaguely sense the flow of magical energy across this land, and perceive the unique "atmosphere" permeating the air, belonging to this era and this nation.
A complex atmosphere blending ancient traditions, hidden vitality, and undercurrents. There is no discomfort, no rejection. It's like a drop of water merging into the ocean, a tree taking root in the soil.
A little.
Lina was right.
He "returned," in a more powerful form, to an era that didn't actually belong to him, yet had been quietly altered by his past actions.
"Sigh, I still want to go back to my Hogwarts." Ian lowered his head and straightened his cuffs, which were actually not wrinkled. This simple action was more like a psychological adjustment, transitioning from the state of Time Traveler and the terminator of the old to the identity of a "returner" and "observer". Then, he stepped towards the alley entrance.
The leather shoes made a soft, rhythmic sound as they stepped on the wet, slippery stone pavement, which was quickly swallowed up by the sound of the rain.
"Clap clap clap~ clap clap clap~" His leather shoes clattered against the ground. As he stepped out of the narrow alley and into the relatively open Street, a typical London street scene came into view.
In the misty drizzle, pedestrians hurried by, holding black or checkered umbrellas; dark coats and trench coats were the norm. The ancient brick buildings appeared even more serene in the rain, occasionally reflecting the light of modern glass curtain walls. A red double-decker bus slowly drove by, splashing small droplets of water. The place was very quiet, the air filled with a mixture of coffee, rain, faint car exhaust fumes, and the aroma of butter wafting from a bakery.
"Hmm, the era should still be the same; there hasn't been any more time travel." Ian's gaze quickly swept over these everyday scenes, finally settling on a giant, iconic Ferris wheel not far away, its magnificent outline still visible in the rain, and further away, the building spanning the gray river.
That is, a bridge with a unique Tower Bridge structure.
The London Eye, the River Thames, and Tower Bridge.
Even with some Timeline revisions, these landmark buildings still stand, silently proclaiming their location— London, United Kingdom.
"At least I'm not still in Africa, so how can that not be good news?" Ian returned to Britain, back to a place not far from Hogwarts. A very faint, almost imperceptible gentleness crossed his calm eyes. This was, after all, the direction of "home." "It's just that I still haven't found Professor Newt. Now that I think about it, maybe everything about Newt was a trap, and Newt wasn't even in Africa."
"It was all a trick by that Saruman to lure me there." Ian was usually quite clever, and he quickly figured out the most likely scenario.
Regarding Saruman.
Ian knew that the intriguing Wizard held many secrets he was unaware of.
only.
Some things are just a matter of fate, and there's no need to dig to the bottom of everything. It's true that Ian is a very curious Wizard. However, being curious about everything can affect a Wizard's state when it comes to things they should be curious about, so Ian doesn't necessarily need to know the truth about everything.
Some of life's unsolved mysteries are quite interesting.
Isn't that right?
"The most urgent thing is to fix my Time Machine." He didn't linger, nor did he attract the attention of any passersby. A simple, Compound Magic, combining cognitive interference and presence reduction, flowed naturally around him; no one could detect Ian or sense anything unusual about him. "Hmm, let's eat something first."
Like countless other travelers walking alone in the London rain, Ian naturally blended into the flow of people on the sidewalk, walking slowly and deliberately in a certain direction.
Raindrops fell on his shoulders, not wetting his clothes, but rather seeming to slide away gently as if through an invisible field. His thoughts, however, spread even faster than his footsteps.
The brief opening and closing of the Bronze Door was his own choice. He had indeed "confirmed" the situation in Africa — the Timeline was stable, the Watchers' duties were being passed down smoothly, and Lina and the "purified" Watcher were in stable condition. That was enough. There was no need for him to appear at the Ministry of Magic's secret base at this time.
That could trigger unnecessary attention, speculation, and even unrest. However, being thrown back to London was something Ian truly hadn't anticipated. "What affected me?"
While pondering.
In the drizzling streets of London, amidst the bustling crowds, unbeknownst to anyone, a Legendary Wizard who had just ended an ancient terror and wielded dangerous power was quietly strolling through the streets, like a drop of water falling into the ocean, beginning his first calm examination of the world he had changed, yet which still needed to be protected.
Meanwhile, in faraway Africa, beneath Silent Tower, Mentor Lina gently touched the warm mark on her chest, gazing at the intense Africa sun shining through the window—a stark contrast to the rainy days of London. A serene smile graced her face as she murmured to herself, as if responding to a thought that transcends space, "You've returned. That's good. Proceed according to your will, my lord. The Gate of Watchmanship remains forever."
Her duty was to watch and remain silent.
His journey is one of observation and protection. In this moment of time and space, their paths converge once again on the same long and steadfast road, albeit in different ways.
The rain is still falling.
The Street of London remain bustling and ordinary.
"I'm so hungry! I feel like I could eat a whole cow."
However, Ian's current state was clearly different from what Lina had imagined. That's why it's said that it's better not to meet your idol.
The words of Homo sapiens have their own logic.
Ian temporarily put aside all his distracting thoughts.
Preparing to find food on the streets of London.
Perhaps only the fleeting, almost illusory, deep gaze reflected in the puddles at the alley entrance hinted at the return of something unusual.