Melville's Story

Dago sat beneath the Golden Tree, his eyes burning as he stared at the gray-robed man before him, at the face hidden beneath the hood.

Melville, the legendary wizard who had left countless legends in every corner of the Upper Ring Continent... It would have been impossible not to wonder what he looked like.

Whether this was the Spirit World Dreamscape no longer mattered. All Dago wanted now was a glimpse of the ancient legend's face.

Faced with Dago's fervent gaze and his confident cry of "Melville," the gray-robed man seemed to chuckle.

That chuckle sent a faint tremor through the surrounding space, as though even the rules resonated with it.

He neither admitted nor denied it.

But he did not disappoint Dago, either.

Quite casually, he reached up and pushed his hood back.

The face revealed before Dago was remarkably young. He looked only a few years older than Dago himself.

It was a youthfulness in which time had been frozen.

Gray hair, black eyes.

A hint of a smile seemed to linger forever at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were extraordinarily bright, like gemstones.

The face beneath the hood was neither handsome nor ugly, yet it possessed a peculiar charm that made it unforgettable to anyone who saw it.

For that face embodied every subconscious association humanity had with the concept of wisdom.

It fit Dago's imagined picture of Melville perfectly.

Such a warm, cheerful voice seemed made for a face so distinct and open.

Dago's gaze gradually softened.

Perhaps Melville's presence had rubbed off on him, or perhaps it was because he knew he was in the Spirit World Dreamscape. Whatever the reason, even facing a legendary wizard, he felt little pressure. In fact, he felt unusually relaxed.

It was as though he really