Seeing the old Wizard's expression, Ernites showed no irritation at all. Instead, he sighed, his earlier excitement and delight fading a little.
"Unfortunately, I'm already a Two-Ring Wizard. I can't face you as a One-Ring Wizard. I must say, that truly is a pity," Ernites said earnestly, standing barefoot on the ground. "Whether in life or in death, I think it would have been a pleasure if you could have arrived just a little sooner."
Unlike Ernites, with his regrets, Wizard Benson remained utterly unmoved, as composed as ever.
Perhaps the old Wizard had heard such words too many times for them to stir even a ripple in his heart.
The old Wizard turned his head, his gaze drifting naturally toward the distant Hexagonal Tower.
After silently studying it for a moment, he began walking again.
Ruger stood watching. As the old Wizard walked past him at an unhurried pace, he caught sight of what had left the man's shoulders crooked. A faint outline showed beneath his loose robes. This old Wizard, so distinctive in both reputation and bearing, seemed somewhat hunchbacked.
Was that from an old injury?
Ruger could not help wondering.
Ordinarily, a Wizard would not spend so many years unable to advance to the second ring. There had to be a reason, and all manner of strange injuries and ailments often became obstacles in a Wizard's path.
Ruger even thought of his own curse. That, too, was an obstacle. He simply had not run into it yet, but it already lay waiting on the road he had to take.
A scream of agony rang out in the distance.
One of the Bearers had half his body shattered by the loathsome miniature false giant. Originally, the four of them had been working together, and things had not yet