Ruger imagined it: the person in that book had seen the ruins left behind by a wizard's life, then abandoned the conviction he had upheld for centuries upon centuries.
If it had been a fictional adventure novel, perhaps that person had explored the ruins and found treasure. But from Layden's tone, Ruger could tell it was not a novel meant for idle amusement. It was the life and conviction of a wizard. That wizard might have ridden some kind of alchemical flying device; perhaps for most of the journey after setting out, all he had seen was uninhabited seas. Then, after persevering for a thousand years, he found traces of other wizards having lived somewhere. It might sound laughable, but Ruger did not think that was the main reason he had given up.
There was nothing wrong with personally doing something that others had already done long ago.
Ruger felt there was another possibility, one far more crushing to a person's enthusiasm—that the answer might have existed all along. Take the Supreme Council, for instance. The wizard recorded in the book, who had sought to explore the Endless Sea, had certainly been at least a formal wizard. Yet he had not reached the level of true powerhouses.
Many things—including the life of the Surface World that Ruger had always cared about, and even what he had discussed with old Lunse: whether this world was truly a dumping ground, whether it was the so-called prison of sinners—might already have definite answers in the eyes of truly high-level beings.
Just as Vito had said, becoming a wizard inevitably came with a purpose one either already understood or had yet to realize. Then, as someone born and living in this world, learning the truth of this world could surely count as a goal