……………………, ……………………………
The delicate sweetness of flowers, the faintly earthy scent of soil, and the cool night breeze—all seemed to be stripped away from Lucian's side and vanish in an instant. All that remained around him was the bright, glittering starry sky and a beautiful silver moon that could not conceal the starlight.
The reflection within his soul and the connection to the Star of Destiny once again blazed into brilliant visibility, hungrily drawing upon the power of the Star of Destiny and merging it into itself, blooming with a faint radiance.
Under the compressing fusion of starlight power, something seemed to change within Lucian's soul—and then it slowly began to condense into something "substantial." After an unknowable length of time, when Lucian opened his eyes, his pupils were as deep and dreamlike as though countless stars lay within them.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. His vision returned to normal, and Lucian felt his spirit more vibrant than ever before. His soul had undergone a clear advancement, as though some minuscule substances had crystallized within it, like the dust of a wraith.
"…What exactly is the soul made of? A special element? Or a unique oscillating field? And what, exactly, does Meditation enhance?" Lucian was deeply interested in the changes to his soul, but limited by his own knowledge and available materials, he could only speculate. "Still, only with this kind of soul mutation could I construct a spell model inside it."
Now that he had finally become a high-level Magic Apprentice, Lucian shifted all of his attention and goals toward becoming a formal mage. In this world, only by reaching that rank could one truly transcend the power level of ordinary people, possess real strength—like a knight who had awakened the power of a bloodline—and obtain a status and identity commensurate with that strength. This was nothing like the existence of a musician, which owed more to the preferences of clergy and nobility; the day they abandoned music, the musician's standing would plummet dramatically.
Because Natasha had instructed the municipal officials before leaving Altor, and because of Lucian's fame as a renowned musician, processing his identity documents, certificates of proof, and other legal travel papers took only half a day—when normally it would require seven.
While many adventurers could travel freely without such documents, passing through strictly guarded border fortresses and cities, or encountering someone who wished to cause trouble, could prove quite dangerous. One might be branded a heretic by the Church or flagged as a spy by intelligence services.
After that, Lucian continued to stay in Altor—on one hand, planning his route and spending time with Joel and the others, and on the other, waiting for the approach of April 10th. On the morning of April 9th, after bidding farewell to Joel, John, Elena, and the rest who had come to see him off, Lucian boarded a long-distance carriage hired through the Association and headed northwest from Altor, using the excuse that he would first travel to the northern duchy's Tilan Province and then turn east toward the Kingdom of Syracuse.
The magnificent city of Altor gradually vanished behind him. Lucian pulled his head back inside the carriage window and picked up his identity documents and other papers to browse through, as though with nothing better to do.
At the end of each document was a Divine Arts seal guaranteeing that they could not be forged by anyone outside of the Church, making them very powerful proof. He would have no trouble passing through borders openly on his way to the eastern part of the continent.
As he leafed through them, Lucian suddenly noticed several newspapers in the carriage. Curious, he picked one up for a closer look. They turned out to be issues of the "Music Review" and the "Symphony Guide," published after the music festival.
"Did Elena realize I hadn't read them yet and buy them specially to put in the carriage for me to pass the time?" After a brief moment of recollection, Lucian confirmed who had left the newspapers. During this period, aside from the documents requiring certification, he had barely visited the Association, and naturally had not seen these papers. The front page of the "Music Review" was split in two halves—the left side showed a black-and-white depiction of the scene during Christopher's curtain call, while the right side featured a color oil painting of Lucian playing the Piano in profile.
Then, in two lines of large, bold, symmetrically arranged text, it read: "The End of an Era. The Beginning of an Era."
On the second page was the full text of the article: "Mr. Christopher has taken his curtain call—a permanent curtain call. This is the end of an era."
"The past seventy years have been the era in which symphonic music began to mature, its structures grew rigorous, and it rapidly ascended to glory, dominating the grand stage. Mr. Christopher was the embodiment of this entire era—a true master of music. Let us express our deepest gratitude and pay our respects to the master, and to this era, with the most solemn of tributes."
"I do not wish to catalog all of Mr. Christopher's honors—that would make this article far too lengthy. I only wish to emphasize one point: the 'War of the Dawn' symphony performed at the concert's conclusion was the master's most audacious experiment. It broke through all previous limitations, achieved tremendous success, and showed us that the future belongs to thematic music."
"Moreover, when Mr. Christopher composed this piece, he was already seventy years old. This reminds me of a saying: the heart of music never stops beating."
…We thank the Lord for His grace. Miraculous Divine Arts artifacts will preserve these classics for us, so that we may appreciate them in the music library."
"This is also the beginning of an era. Though Mr. Lucian Evans's conducting and playing are still quite raw, with considerable room for improvement, he has shown us entirely new possibilities for musical development. Whether it is his symphonies, sonatas, or his conducting and Piano technique, everything is infused with the flavor of revolution."
"This kind of revolution may not be accepted or appreciated by Mr. Quendo, but I think there could be no more fitting way to inaugurate a new era."
"Entirely new symphonic content, entirely new sonata structures, an entirely new conducting style, entirely new playing techniques, an entirely new concert format—I can already imagine a future vibrant and rich with color. This will be an era of revolution."