Lairn and Eternal Life?

Yet the response to Duncan was nothing but silence.

Duncan's brow furrowed. The next moment, an overwhelmingly powerful magical detection radiated without concealment, instantly covering the entire office.

"So you are inside."

"Lairn! Open the door."

Yet the response to Duncan remained the same silence.

"Heh." Duncan let out a light scoff. Far from giving up, as the wait stretched on, the force of his knocking grew heavier and heavier, until it devolved into pounding the door with his fist—bang! bang! bang!

This commotion was clear not only to Lairn, hiding inside the room, but to everyone on the entire floor.

Faced with such a racket, not everyone on the floor refrained from stepping out to protest.

But the moment they pushed open their doors, before they could even hurl a reprimand at the troublemaker, one by one they fell silent and sullenly shut their doors again.

No joke—the one pounding on the door was Duncan. Were these frail mages out of their minds to provoke him?

Though they were all colleagues, everyone knew deep down that Duncan was different from them.

These Court Mages were either born into noble families or were elite graduates from the Imperial Magic Academy's successive years.

But Duncan, that scourge, was unlike any of them.

He was the only Court Mage who came from a military background.

Once belonging to the Imperial Army, he had clawed his way here, drenched in blood, step by step through military merit.

In terms of magical skill alone, none of them were far apart. But Duncan's iron fists could take down ten of them without breaking a sweat.

In the palace, where magic use was strictly restricted, everyone had their own scale of who was strong and who was weak.

Add to that the recent incident involving his close friend Lairn.

During this sensitive period, it was wiser to stay out of it and not meddle.

Finally, under Duncan's relentless pounding, even Lairn, slumped in his office chair, could no longer bear it. He had to get up and open the door for Duncan.

Hearing movement from the long-silent room, Duncan stopped his pounding and, as Lairn opened the door, vigorously rubbed his reddened, swollen fist.

"Tch—"

"This solid wood door really hurts to punch."

But the moment Lairn pushed the long-sealed door open just a crack, the furrow between Duncan's brows deepened.

The room reeked of alcohol.

"Come in."

After pushing the door open, Lairn said to Duncan with a sickly air.

Without meeting his friend's eyes, Lairn left Duncan only a staggering back view.

Slumping back into his office chair, Lairn grabbed a bottle from the desk and took two gulps, the smell of alcohol on him growing even stronger.

Duncan silently studied the utterly dejected Lairn before him, casting a sidelong glance at the empty bottles piled on the desk and floor, quietly calculating how much his usually teetotaling friend had drunk.

But once he figured it out, Duncan couldn't help but let out a derisive laugh.

He grabbed a chair, sat down opposite his friend Lairn, making sure Lairn could clearly hear his mockery.

"What are you laughing at?" Lairn, his face flushed with drink, asked Duncan with some displeasure, thumping the bottle on the desk with a bit of force.

"I'm laughing at your drinking capacity." Duncan didn't hold back at all, stating bluntly.

"The higher-ups want to dismiss you from your post and revoke your title. It's been five days since that signal was issued, but you've only drunk thirteen bottles in total."

"Oh, no." Duncan glanced at the bottle still half-full in his friend's hand and added, "To be precise, twelve and a half bottles."

"What, need a couple of drinks to whet your appetite before a meal, or can't sleep without a bottle to help you nod off?"

"Duncan, you!"

Lairn set down the bottle, furious—and then just furious.

But Duncan, sitting across from Lairn, never dealt in empty gestures.

With three soft thuds in quick succession, Duncan opened the remaining three bottles in the room in an instant.

And before Lairn could even react, Duncan had already downed two of them.

Setting the two empty bottles back on the floor, Duncan raised the last bottle and clinked it against Lairn's in the air.

"Since you want to drown your sorrows, as a friend, I'll join you." Duncan looked at Lairn, speaking calmly.

"But once we're done drinking, I want you to go rest immediately."

"As for the verdict against you, even though it's a direct order from the royal family, before the official document is issued, this matter isn't entirely without room for negotiation."

Lairn's hand trembled as he gripped the bottle, but after a moment he let out a long sigh and spoke softly to his close friend Duncan.

"No need, Duncan."

With that, Lairn forced a light laugh, spun his chair around, and gazed through the clean, transparent window of his office at the silhouette of the Imperial Capital Court bathed in sunlight.

Then, putting on a resigned expression, he said to his friend.

"Duncan, over these past few days, I think I've finally come to understand."

"It was my utter ineptitude in dealing with people that cost me my position so early on."

"I don't blame those who set the trap, because even without them, given my nature, someone else would have eventually shown me this reality."

"The only thing I'm grateful for now is this."

"That in a role I was never suited for, I met the most suitable friend."

"Stop."

Duncan waved a hand, cutting off Lairn's drunken rambling.

"Finish your drink, then get some rest. Recharge your energy—tomorrow's going to be a tough fight."

At that, Duncan paused briefly.

"Lairn."

"After all these years together, I can still tell whether you're truly without regrets, or if you're just trying not to burden others."

"No matter how grim tomorrow's situation is, let's struggle through it ugly to the very end."

"Whatever the outcome, at least we'll have no regrets."

"Duncan."

Looking at his sincere friend before him, Lairn found himself at a loss for words.

Glancing at the empty wine crate, Lairn could only force a bitter smile and nod in agreement.

"Even if I wanted to drown my sorrows in more drink, there's nothing left to drink, you bastard, Duncan."

"But since that's the case, I'll give it a try."

"Ugly, struggling to the very end."

With that, Lairn tossed aside the bottle still holding a few drops of wine, leaned back in his office chair, and fell asleep.

"Honestly." Hearing his friend's snoring already start, Duncan shook his head helplessly. "I told you to rest early, but at least find a sofa to sleep on."

"Young people sure have good sleep quality."

"Forget it. Since the sofa's empty anyway, if you're not using it, I'll sleep there."

The next day.

Warm sunlight streamed into the solemn court, casting beautiful patterns through the stained glass windows.

Yet the peaceful, tranquil atmosphere of the court was shattered by fierce arguments.

Court Mage Duncan and Court Mage Lairn.

When the administrative officer who had just arrived for work saw the two of them approaching, his temples began to throb, and he sensed trouble.

As expected, these two—or rather, Duncan—had come about that matter involving Lairn.

The officer in charge of liaising with the Court Mages could only force a wry smile. The outcome of this matter had been directly handed down from above.

This wasn't like the usual times, when he could issue "warnings" to the Court Mages based on the Imperial Edict for their actions.

But this time, it was the higher-ups' decision. Even if Duncan came knocking, what could a mere official do?

Clearly, such reasoning wasn't enough to send Duncan away.

After Duncan wore him down with every trick in the book, the officer had no choice but to reluctantly agree to Duncan's terms.

That is, the officer would take Duncan and Lairn's thoughts and opinions and once again petition His Majesty the Emperor, begging him to reconsider Lairn's punishment.

Truth be told, after this incident, even the officer who managed the Court Mages had to admit he was impressed by Duncan.

But some things in this world simply cannot be changed through persistence.

After a day of waiting, Duncan and Lairn received a personal reply from His Majesty the Emperor.

And this time, the form of reply was no longer just a signal—it was a written document, irrefutable and set in ink.

Lairn's noble title and official position as Court Mage were stripped, and he was permanently banned from ever setting foot in the palace again.

Yet Duncan and Lairn's efforts were not entirely in vain.

At the very least, in the final punishment for Lairn, His Majesty the Emperor ordered the removal of the clause confiscation of all his property.

So even though Lairn lost his noble title and his position as Court Mage, he still retained a considerable fortune. After leaving the Imperial Capital, it would be enough for him to live a life of luxury and splendor to the end of his days.

Taking the punishment document, Lairn felt no regret in his heart—instead, a sense of relief washed over him.

But Duncan, beside him, seemed dissatisfied with the outcome and had already started negotiating with the officer again, requesting a personal audience with His Majesty.

Seeing this, Lairn quickly stepped forward, pulled his close friend Duncan back, apologized to the officer, bid him farewell, and dragged Duncan all the way back to his own office.

"Lairn, you've already made up your mind, haven't you?"

Looking at the expression on his close friend's face, Duncan spoke with a complicated tone.

"Yes."

Lairn nodded solemnly. After this final attempt, he had completely let go of all regrets.

The lack of regret in his expression was no longer the pretense it had been before, but a genuine, heartfelt feeling.

"After this unimaginably difficult struggle, I've 'ugly' fought to the very end."

"Now, this punishment is something I can accept."

"His Majesty's will is firm enough. Duncan, there's no need for you to bury your own future over something that's already beyond dispute."

"After all, you're different from me. You have a talent for 'dealing with people and the world' that's no less than your talent for magic."

"Is that really how you feel?"

Seeing that his friend's gaze didn't seem fake, Duncan lowered his head in thought before looking back at Lairn.

"What do you plan to do from now on?"

"That question..."

Lairn pondered for a moment, a glint flashing in his eyes, then he answered with a smile, "As for me now, I actually have an answer that might not be bad."

"Duncan, you know what kind of person I am."

"When it comes to dealing with people, I'm hopeless; but when it comes to 'magical talent,' I'm confident I have abilities that are no less than anyone else in this world."

"As it happens, I received a message yesterday."

"They say that Lord Serie, the legendary Archmage who has lived since the Mythological Era, has publicly appeared in the city of Oysaster and announced her intention to establish an organization called the Continental Magic Association, to evaluate the mages of this era and recruit some disciples."

"I think... this might be the only chance in my life to climb the peak called 'magic.'"

"So, in the days ahead, I plan to head to the city of Oysaster, participate in the First Mage Examination organized by the Continental Magic Association, and aim to pass the Association's exam and become a disciple of Lord Serie."

"That... isn't bad."

Duncan said slowly. Since Lairn had found a new goal and direction in life, he could rest easy.

But as his mind relaxed, Duncan keenly caught a key word in Lairn's words just now—the city of Oysaster.

So Duncan cleared his throat twice and moistened his voice.

Seeing his close friend in this state, Lairn's brow twitched. Whenever Duncan wore that expression, he could already predict what was coming.

Sure enough, Duncan began to narrate his love story with his wife in his usual calm tone.

And in this telling, Duncan focused heavily on the story of their travels together in Oysaster.

Lairn, still single, listened through the whole thing with a wry smile. But this time, a stirring suddenly rose in his heart.

Once his life in Oysaster settled down, should he start seeking out his own romance?

Otherwise, every time they met, he'd just have to bitterly listen to Duncan sharing dog food in his ear.

Meanwhile, in the Northern Countries, Oysaster.

Inside a rundown little monastery in the city, Guter was transcribing a folk tale from the Unified Empire period.

As Guter reached the story's end, he turned his brush and wrote a period to close the short passage.

And the system's pleasant chime rang out.

Ding!

Daily Quest: Daily Good Deed completed

Setting down his brush, Guter stood up from his seat and stretched his body, which had been sitting for a long time.

After a bit of relaxation, Guter casually drew today's reward for the Daily Good Deed.

Random reward being drawn...

Draw complete

Congratulations, host, for obtaining item: Lifespan 20 years

"Huh?"

"No way!!!"

Thinking it was just an ordinary item, Guter had casually dismissed the system interface, but now he jolted with a shiver.

He immediately called up the System Space interface again and carefully examined the prize he'd just drawn.

Item Name: Lifespan 20 Years

Effect: After use, the host's lifespan increases by 20 years. During the lifespan extension, the host's physical fitness and spirit will remain at the peak of human prime. (Note: This item is for the host's personal use only, cannot be split, and cannot be transferred.)

It really was an increase in lifespan.

Guter's hands trembled, and his expression was uncontrollably excited.

He'd hit the jackpot again!

Moreover, in Guter's view, the twenty years of peak human lifespan were a hundred times more precious than the [Magic Inheritance Scroll] he had drawn earlier.

Even with the objective restrictions of [Cannot Be Split] and [Cannot Be Transferred], this was still one of the rarest treasures in all the world.

After all, throughout history, whether in the East or the West, "longevity" was something countless emperors, kings, wealthy magnates, and renowned figures had spent their entire lives pursuing but never obtained.

And, theoretically speaking, since the system had indeed set [Lifespan] as a reward in the [Daily Good Deed] prize pool, as long as Guter persisted day after day in drawing from it, then according to the principles of probability, when the number of draws accumulated to a sufficiently large magnitude, the probability of obtaining an item would equal its proportion in the prize pool.

Sooner or later, he would be able to draw the [Lifespan] reward again, and over an extended time scale, this would become a relatively stable periodic output.

In other words—

Guter seemed to have found a path to [Eternal Life].

It appeared that as long as the cycle of drawing [Lifespan-type] rewards from the [Daily Good Deed] prize pool was shorter than or equal to the reward's duration, he could achieve immortality?

Guter shook his head, setting aside these future speculations, and first clicked [Use] to add these twenty years of lifespan to himself.

As the [Lifespan] icon gradually faded within the System Space, a distinct sensation spread through Guter's body.

No—it wasn't just his body; even Guter's spirit seemed to feel a kind of "moistening" sensation?

His body and soul both felt warm and cozy, with a slight tingling numbness.

As the lifespan increase completed, this sensation receded like a tide. Yet Guter, as if waking from a dream, still carried a lingering sense of unreality.

Come to think of it, the feeling during lifespan extension was somewhat similar to sleeping.

Only this process was far more comfortable than sleep, and upon waking, there were none of the symptoms of groggy thoughts or stiff limbs that came with getting out of bed—instead, he felt sharp-minded and light-bodied.

All these sensations, summed up, could be condensed into just five words.

Namely, "It really f*cking feels good."