Genius

Kramsh might have been a legendary warrior, but he stood little chance against a legendary Mage. He'd struggle even to get close, and even if he did, things might not end well for him.

Many high-level Mages recorded Contingency or Chain Contingency—spells that didn't require the Mage to trigger them personally. (Contingency was a 6th-level spell from the School of Evocation. Once its trigger condition was met, two chosen spells would be cast automatically. After learning it, a Mage only needed to have it prepared to quickly counter danger. Chain Contingency could store three spells and was a 7th-level spell.)

On top of that, high-level Mages would always prepare the ridiculously powerful Spell Sequencer and Spell Trigger. (Spell Sequencer was a 7th-level spell from the School of Evocation. It could store three spells and unleash them all at once without using up spell slots, but it had to be prepared in advance, and the stored spells couldn't be higher than 4th level. Spell Trigger was an 8th-level spell that could also store three spells, none higher than 6th level, and its damage was off the charts.)

A Mage like that was practically invincible. And high-level Mages were usually rich, with piles of magical equipment. Unless you could kill one in a single blow, you'd soon be buried beneath a storm of spells. A legendary warrior could still defeat a high-level Mage by relying on his incredible resistance to magic, but once a Mage reached legendary rank, both his spell power and wealth would soar several levels. A legendary warrior simply couldn't contend with him. The dignity of Mages was beyond the reach of poor-ass classes like theirs.

That was why Arando had given up on taking revenge directly and instead resorted to this desperate alternative to get back at the Arcane Brotherhood. It made him little better than a coward, but it was still better than dying. Besides, Arando's spirit had been broken. After taking so many blows, he no longer had the reckless courage of his youth.

Seeing his friend so despondent made Kramsh's heart ache. He knew Arando wanted revenge more than anyone, but—

Kramsh didn't know what to say. He wasn't Arando. He didn't like his friend's choice, but he couldn't make it for him. And deep down, he couldn't help feeling relieved that his friend hadn't rushed off to throw his life away. Wasn't being alive more important than anything else?

"You don't have to talk me out of it. I know this isn't very manly, but I really don't want to drag you, my last friend, into this too," Arando said slowly, taking a sip of wine.

The old man said nothing. He drank in silence for a while, then spoke slowly. "What are you planning to do? I mean, besides getting revenge. What will you do from now on?"

"I haven't thought about it. Things were so urgent that I could only run to you. We'll see what happens after that. At least I'll stay here for a while and lie low. We can figure out the rest later."

Then they fell silent again. After a long while, the old man spoke up once more.

"Stay in Avalon from now on. Don't even think about leaving. You're an Arcane Knight, so you should know a legendary Mage has plenty of ways to find someone. Wish, divination magic—they can track you down easily. If you leave, you'll die. Since you've survived, don't throw your life away. Here in Avalon, the Heroic Spirits will protect you. They could turn the entire continent upside down and still never find you."

Arando raised his head and stared at Kramsh in surprise. He wanted to say something, but didn't know how to begin.

"I know you never planned to give up on revenge. You were going to leave the Arcane Eye with me, then go after them alone, weren't you? You just didn't want to drag me into it. Like I said, I know you too well. But I'll say it again: as long as you're alive, there's still a chance. Once you're dead, you have nothing." The old man spoke calmly. Kramsh had led his clan for so many years, after all; he had experience. At first, rage had clouded his judgment, and he'd wanted to grab his axe and go after the Arcane Brotherhood. But after Arando talked some sense into him, he'd gradually calmed down. Taking revenge on the Arcane Brotherhood would be like throwing an egg at a rock. They had no chance of winning. Since Arando had come to him, he couldn't just watch his friend throw his life away for nothing. It would be meaningless.

"But if I don't take revenge, what else can I do? This is the last thing I can do for them. My family all died at the hands of those bastards. My brothers died saving me. They're all dead! If not revenge, what else can I do for them?!" Arando suddenly shouted, his face—white with age and framed by a long white beard—already streaming with tears.

"Live. That's the most important thing you can do for them. Didn't they risk their lives so you could survive? Do you want their sacrifice to have been for nothing?" The old man raised his voice. Once he'd calmed down completely, Kramsh could see the situation clearly. Pointless sacrifice was no answer.

"Live? If I can't avenge them, what's the point of living...?"

"Of course there's a point. For one, what exactly does this Arcane Eye do? If we can unravel its secret, we'll have a chance at revenge. And even if we can't do it, I have a son and grandsons. One day, they'll be able to."

The old man kept encouraging his friend, even going so far as to volunteer his own descendants. But to the Avalon Orcs, this was perfectly normal. If your ancestors had received a favor from someone, then you, as their descendant, had a duty to repay it.

With Kramsh's comfort and encouragement, Arando gradually let go of his death wish. The two of them drank together, laughing, cursing, and crying, one cup after another. They had no idea how long they'd been at it. By then, it was completely dark outside.

"By the way, Kramsh, your grandson Solam is nothing like you. He's a lot smarter." Arando told Kramsh how he'd taught Solam to write on the road. "I taught you for six months, and in the end, you couldn't even put together a complete sentence. Solam's way better than you."

"Of course he is. Do you even know whose grandson he is? Each generation gets better than the last." At the mention of his grandson, Kramsh immediately puffed up with pride. "You have no idea how frighteningly intelligent that kid is. His Intelligence was already 18 two years ago."

"Pfft!" Arando sprayed all the wine he'd just swallowed across Kramsh's face.

"What? 18?" Arando had nearly drunk himself into a stupor, but Kramsh's words jolted him sober.

"Bah! Watch where you're spitting! You're getting on in years, so why are you still so damn excitable?"

"Excitable, my ass! 18, two years ago? Wait, how old is Solam now?" Arando grabbed Kramsh by the collar.

"Hey! Watch it. You can talk without grabbing my collar." Kramsh managed to pry Arando's hand away. "He's not even sixteen yet. Why?"

To be honest, Kramsh had spent a few years out in the world, but he still didn't really understand the Intelligence attribute. He knew Solam's Intelligence was high enough to make him a Mage, but he had no idea what that actually meant.

"Even if he's sixteen, two years ago he was fourteen, and he had 18 Intelligence. So now he must have at least 19. Damn! He's a genius!" Arando was thrilled, but then he gave Kramsh a suspicious look.

"Tell me, old man, you're not making this up, are you?"

"Hell, why would I lie about that? What would be the point?"

"Then there's no way... Solam really is your flesh and blood?"

"Damn it! What kind of thing is that to say? If you weren't so old, I'd beat the hell out of you." Kramsh was seriously annoyed. He was only letting it slide because poor old Arando was in a bad way; otherwise, he'd have rolled up his sleeves and beaten him. If someone came up to you and said your grandson wasn't really yours, wouldn't you beat the idiot who said it? "The Shaman certified it. Solam's my grandson, flesh and blood. No mistake."

Hearing Kramsh's firm reply, Arando stared blankly for a moment, then burst into manic laughter.

"Hahahahaha! Thank you, Dorial, Lord of Shadows! Hahahaha! I'll have my revenge after all! Hahahaha!" Arando laughed like a madman. He was even thanking the god he worshipped—the Lord of Shadows. Kramsh knew Arando was a follower of the Lord of Shadows, but if anyone asked whether he was truly devout, the answer would be no. He was probably a mere casual worshipper. Most gangsters and people who dealt in shady business worshipped this deity, just as gangsters in Solam's previous world worshipped Guan Yu. But as a spellcaster on the Mage side, Arando didn't care much about faith. If he weren't afraid of ending up pasted to a wall after death, he probably wouldn't even bother paying lip service.

(The Lord of Shadows, Dorial, was once the Chosen of Mask, the former god of thieves. But in the Year of Dark Boiling, this Chosen killed the very god he served and ascended to godhood himself. The Lord of Shadows, a deity of intermediate power, held dominion over shadows, theft, thieves, assassination, and criminals. As for Mask, the god of thieves, he was a rather entertaining goofball. His story would have to wait for another time.)

Arando was actually thanking a god now. That showed just how excited he was.

"You mean it, right?"

"Huh?" Kramsh was still wondering whether Arando had been driven crazy by what just happened, so he hadn't heard what Arando said.

"I mean, if we can't get revenge, your son and grandsons will help me do it?"

"Of course. My word is my bond. Why wouldn't I mean it?"

"Good. Good."

"Uh, what's gotten into you?" The old man was starting to worry about his friend's mental state.

"You don't know?"

"How the hell would I know? You're all over the place. What are you even saying?"

Only then did Arando remember that Kramsh didn't know much about Mages, so he still didn't realize just how terrifying Solam's talent was. He held back his excitement, wiped his face, and spoke to Kramsh as calmly as he could.

"Solam is a genius. A Mage genius."