Road

"From working in the fields," Zeliel answered honestly.

"Oh? Farm-born?"

Gray grew interested. His hands never stopped moving, but neither did his mouth.

"I thought you were some young master who'd run away from home to experience life... Come to think of it, aren't mages only something rich people can afford? Buying scrolls, wands, robes, and the like—every one of them costs a fortune."

"There are exceptions sometimes..." Zeliel pursed his lips.

According to the memories Zeliel had inherited, the original owner's background was nothing remarkable. He had merely been a poor farmer on the kingdom's border.

From birth, Zeliel and his parents had spent every day dealing with the crops in the fields, living a life with their faces to the earth and their backs to the sky. After paying taxes each year, their harvest was only barely enough to keep them alive.

But a turning point came when Zeliel was seven.

It had been an ordinary summer afternoon.

There was not much work to do in the fields, and for once, his father had not urged Zeliel on, allowing him to rest beneath the old locust tree by the ridge.

The cicadas droned loudly. Heat waves warped the distant air, while sunlight filtered through gaps in the leaves, scattering mottled patches of light across the ground.

Everything was the same as it had always been, so mundane it made one drowsy.

Zeliel lay on his back in the grass, squinting at the leaves swaying gently in the wind, bored out of his mind.

But in that instant, the world suddenly changed before his eyes.

It was not a change in vision, but more like an indescribable sensation.

He saw the wind. It was no longer invisible, but strands of pale blue thread.

He heard the earth, its deep, steady hum echoing without end like a heartbeat.

He felt the light. Countless golden motes danced in the sunlight overhead, warm and gentle.

Then, an irresistible and immense force erupted, dragging Zeliel's consciousness into a boundless black universe.

At the center of that dark universe floated a faint glimmer of light.

Zeliel's curiosity overwhelmed his fear. As his consciousness cautiously approached that point of light, the seed sensed his gaze as well and gave a gentle pulse.

Dazzling radiance flowed forth like a spring bubbling up, bringing with it an extraordinary power.

That power was called mana.

Zeliel had awakened his Source Seed.

When Zeliel's consciousness returned to reality, his heart was pounding uncontrollably, and his breathing had become ragged.

For a farmer's child, turning seven meant that you were no longer a little child who only knew how to play in the mud.

You had to learn to tell whether crops were thriving or failing, and under your father's scolding, learn to shoulder a hoe half your height with your still-undeveloped, scrawny shoulders.

Zeliel's life should have been filled with dirt and sweat, and he should have grown up step by step into a dark-skinned, silent farmer like his father.

But he realized that he might still be able to walk another, extraordinary path.

That path was called mage.

For the next nine years, Zeliel's life was divided into two parts.

One part was still the son of a poor farmer, laboring in the fields. The other was a seeker carrying a great dream in his heart.

Zeliel began using every spare moment to teach himself.

He would run to town and go to great lengths to gather information about magic. Whenever bards carrying lutes came to the village, Zeliel would pester them to tell him stories about mages.

He also spent savings he had accumulated over several years to buy a damaged scroll recording a spell structure. After continuous meditation and practice, he finally mastered Fireball.

That year, Zeliel was sixteen, and the flame that burst from his palm filled him with indescribable excitement.

But that same year, the king raised taxes. The people suffered, unable to make a living, and Zeliel's parents, who had toiled their entire lives, finally collapsed under the burden and passed away together.

After burying his parents, he sat by the field ridge beneath that old locust tree, staring blankly for a long time.

Zeliel could have chosen to inherit the fields into which his parents had poured their hearts and continued being a farmer.

But in the end, he decided to take his last bit of savings and set out on an adventurer's journey, free of all ties.

People always had to try living differently.

Seeing Zeliel lower his eyes in thought, Gray assumed his words had upset him and nudged him with his elbow.

"Don't mind it... I was just saying. If you don't have money, you can save up slowly. The way you cast magic earlier showed you've got plenty of talent. You'll make it."

"Thank you."

Zeliel smiled kindly and said nothing more, merely continuing to grip the strip of hide tightly as he worked with Gray.

Skinning and cleaning took a great deal of time. The group worked until well past midnight before they finished.

As for the wolf carcasses, they tossed them into a deep pit nearby and left them to rot.

Fortunately, these wolves had been the local rulers. Every carnivorous animal avoided them out of fear, so although the camp reeked of blood, no other predators came.

Since Marcus and Gray had contributed the most during the battle, the night watch afterward was left to Vales.

The night passed without incident.

When Zeliel opened his eyes again, clear birdsong was already ringing outside the tent, and thin rays of sunlight streamed through gaps in the flap.

Dawn had come.

"Ah..."

Zeliel sat up, rubbing his eyes.

The bedroll beside him was already empty, while Gray and Marcus's voices drifted faintly from outside.

He had not slept very well.

Since it was his first day after transmigrating, all kinds of chaotic dreams had tangled together, leaving Zeliel unsettled.

I still need time to accept this...

Zeliel scratched his messy hair and instinctively checked his status panel.

Strength: 65

Agility: 60

Constitution: 68

Spirit: 71

Intelligence: 66

Perception: 30

Charm: 45

Luck: 41

Other than the four points of Spirit gained last night, none of his other attributes had changed.

Below Spell Structure Evolution, the analysis progress for Great Creation Art still remained at 0%.

Seeing that, Zeliel could not help frowning.

Great Creation Art... what kind of magic was that?

Forget it... He could ask at the Mages' Guild, the official organization for mages, when the time came.

After all, the original owner's memories did not contain a deep understanding of magic. There were still many things for him to uncover slowly on his own.

Zeliel lifted the tent flap, and the cool morning breeze brushed against his face.

The forest air was exceptionally fresh, mingled with the fragrance of plants, and it instantly refreshed him.

After washing up simply, Zeliel caught the toasted black bread Gray tossed him and dipped it in hot soup before eating.

The bread was quite hard. It could barely be swallowed only after soaking in the soup; he probably would not even be able to chew it if he ate it dry.

Its flavor was also nowhere near the baked pastries from his memories of his previous life. It was barely even sweet.

It was just enough to fill his stomach.

According to Marcus's arrangements, the party was to leave Graywood Forest today and return to the Adventurers' Association in Blackstone Town to turn in the wolf extermination quest.