On the Light Screen, Romani Archaman kept striving—striving endlessly, striving frantically. He worked hard in his studies, worked hard in practice; it could even be said that he was risking his life.
From dawn to dusk, he never stopped.
Year after year, he continued moving forward.
The young Romani Archaman gradually grew into a young man amid such a relentlessly urgent life.
The way he worked himself to the bone was as though something were chasing him from behind, forcing him to keep working, to keep struggling.
At that moment, the Light Screen showed an impressionistic scene: Romani Archaman running through utter darkness while countless black hands reached wildly for him from behind. In the end, they seized him and dragged him into endless darkness.
Everything pointed to Romani Archaman carrying some immense burden, one that forced him to work desperately hard.
Yet the Light Screen did not reveal what exactly Romani Archaman was carrying. Then the scene abruptly shifted, showing the young Romani Archaman and Marisbury seated face-to-face in a reception room.
There was a cup of tea in front of each of them, and Marisbury picked up his cup and took a sip.
Seeing this, Romani Archaman smiled. "It smells wonderful. Are you still drinking only Darjeeling?"
Marisbury smiled. "As long as it's drinkable, even plain water is fine."
Their exchange was simple and casual, clearly showing just how close the two were.
After Marisbury put down his cup, he said to Romani Archaman, "But you—it's good to see that you're healthy and well, Romani."
"It seems you haven't continued studying magecraft."
Romani Archaman shook his head helplessly. "With the knowledge and skills I possess now, this is all I can accomplish."
Marisbury smiled. "Is this what they mean by excessive humility being pride? I see. Now I