Old People Liking a Few Curios Is Perfectly Normal, Isn't It?

Kraft's grandfather, the first noble of the family, was named Mark Wood. Or, he could be called Old Wood.

Of course, when Old Wood had been as young as Kraft was now, he had not yet borne that surname. Back then, he had merely been a sturdy country lad whose main job was cracking people's skulls on the battlefield.

Thanks to his exceptional talent, Old Wood had displayed outstanding professional ability despite receiving little training. When others struggled to crack even one skull, he could crack four or five without batting an eye.

With such remarkable performance, he had risen from cracking skulls in nothing but trousers, to cracking skulls in leather armor, and finally to having the honor of cracking skulls in full plate with a two-handed sword. Whenever Old Wood recalled those glorious days, he would excitedly slap his knee.

Much like in most stories, after spending half his life in the military, Old Wood caught the eye of an important figure and received his current baronial title, along with a modest fief in his hometown.

Having achieved fame and success, and with an old knee injury flaring up again, he chose to return to his hometown of Wood Town. Taking the town's name as his family surname, he began planning the construction of his castle on the small hill behind the town.

It was as though Old Wood's first half of life had used up every scrap of the family's luck. During the thirty years in which the castle was gradually built, Old Wood's wife first died of plague, and not even the Priest's prayers could save her. Then Old Wood's son, Little Wood, died tragically on the battlefield, while Kraft's mother died in childbirth.

Of the direct family line, only Old Wood himself and his grandson Kraft Wood remained. The newly completed castle was shrouded in invisible dark clouds, its stone walls steeped inside and out in a curse-like chill.

Perhaps even the so-called god of The Church felt that such a fate was too cruel for Old Wood. Kraft did not suffer the same misfortunes.

On the contrary, he grew up healthy within the castle's stone walls until the age of ten, with no chance whatsoever to encounter danger. Even the swords used in physical education classes were blunt. This was already the greatest safety measure Old Wood could conceive of.

While letting out a long breath of relief, the white-haired Old Wood began reflecting painfully on the matter. He decided to teach his grandson a few skills besides spinning two-handed swords around like a windmill, lest he have nothing to do in the future but crack skulls.

Thus, Old Wood personally invited the scholar Anderson from Wenden Port Academy to teach Kraft to read and write the local language, along with calligraphy, poetry, and other things Old Wood considered somewhat "refined."

The old man's choice proved correct. Kraft changed from a child whose head was filled with recreating his grandfather's glorious youth into one who could sit quietly in the study—at least, after his grandfather had offered some traditional and effective persuasion.

After finding Kraft a new direction in life, Old Wood could finally devote himself to a few personal hobbies and enjoy his old age in peace.

It was quite an unusual hobby, actually. It had only gradually emerged after the war, developing from an extremely niche pursuit into something that was still only popular among a small circle, mainly young, educated nobles and certain scholars.

It had once been called Occultism, and was now also known as Anomalous Phenomena. The Church denounced it as heretical nonsense, while plain-materialist scholars generally believed it was simply a principle governing nature that had yet to be discovered.

Put simply, all sorts of strange, uncommon, inexplicable things could barely be counted under it, including but not limited to flames appearing in one's hands or things glowing.

Logically speaking, the target audience for such a hobby should have had absolutely nothing in common with a half-illiterate old skull-cracking expert like Old Wood.

But while others merely chased rumors, Old Wood had encountered such things himself in his youth. One night, a group of black-robed mysterious figures had suddenly appeared, with fire and light in their hands and markings painted on their faces. They could even rub the fire and light onto their swords. Old Wood's skull-cracking crew suffered severe casualties before they managed to crack all their skulls, and he himself injured his knee as well.

According to Old Wood, he had been kicking one of them over when the light grazed him. His entire knee guard twisted and shattered as thoroughly as an unspeakable body part kicked by a boot, leaving a small piece of metal embedded in his knee.

As a pragmatist, Old Wood did not particularly accept the military Priest's explanation that these were merely tricks of Heretics. Though he had burned their corpses and belongings as the Priest instructed, the curiosity and longing in his heart could not be burned away.

From collecting various protective charms in his youth to filling the entire castle with strange objects now, Old Wood's interest in unknown powers had never waned. After losing so many family members, he had thrown himself even more deeply into collecting such things. It was hard to say whether he was trying to escape reality.

And as for Teacher Anderson, he was an even more seasoned Anomalous Studies enthusiast. Back at Wenden Port Academy, he had been a well-known hobbyist researcher of Anomalous Phenomena, but the circle had been too niche, leaving him with few people he could truly talk to.

He and Old Wood, who had come to Wenden Port to find a teacher for Kraft, hit it off at first sight. In the words of an Otherworld Soul, it was like Boya meeting Zhong Ziqi, like finding a kindred spirit through High Mountains and Flowing Water. They forged a friendship that transcended age, education, identity, and status.

With Anderson's help, Old Wood's collection swiftly expanded from physical objects to all manner of banned and ancient books. The secret library in the castle probably held a collection far beyond that of an ordinary Heretic—enough that even the Inquisition would regard it with newfound respect.

Still, not to mention Wood Town, even Wenden Port counted as rural territory. The Church's control over the entire region extended no farther than Wenden Port Church and the seagull-infested square outside it. If the local official could keep the bird droppings cleaned up, that was already considered diligent work.

So long as no Heterodoxy worshipping a flying octopus-faced god showed up locally and caused trouble, no one cared if Heretics fed seagulls in the square. That was probably one reason Mister Fire Hand had come here before.

Considering there was no Church in town, Old Wood could freely stroll around with two Stone Carved Rune Eyeballs in his hands, and people would still praise their bold design, saying they were fitting objects for Lord Wood.

After learning that a legendary "Spellcaster" had arrived in Wenden Port, Kraft, who had happened to be planning a trip there, was grabbed and given a pile of baffling instructions. Thoroughly confused, he mounted the fastest horse in town and set off.

This was not the first time something like this had happened since Kraft was young. With the attitude that his grandfather's happiness was all that mattered, he leisurely traveled and looked around along the way. When he learned that Mister Fire Hand's performance had gone disastrously wrong, he was unexpectedly overjoyed. This made things much easier.

But as the saying went, since he was already here, it would be hard to justify returning without bringing his grandfather something. After visiting one of Teacher Anderson's former colleagues, they learned that a village nearby had dug up "some Heretic stuff." The two, who had merely wanted to find something to deal with Old Wood's request, braved the heavy snow and rushed over. If they arrived too late, the villagers might hand it over to The Church for "purification."

Unfortunately, once they arrived, the two discovered that the situation was nothing like they had imagined. The object lay in an abandoned wheat field outside the village. The excavated portion alone stood as tall as a person, and it appeared to be a black stone Prism covered in patterns.

It was certainly strange enough, but it clearly could not be handled like a palm toy, nor was it something two people and two horses could deal with. Helpless, Kraft planned to have his cousin take a letter back first, preferably stopping by Wenden Port on the way to hire a freight wagon for him.