After several frequent episodes of losing control, Etna seemed to have temporarily stabilized the situation. For the better part of a day, the strange black-and-white-gray aura had stopped spreading outward, which meant Lucian and Natasha were able to enjoy a relatively relaxed stretch of time — a rare blessing for both of them, given their injuries.
In the afternoon, the sun blazed at its peak, and heat shimmered off the ground. Amid the gloomy, dark black forest surrounding the hillside, beams of light sliced through the gaps in the canopy, casting dazzling spots on the forest floor.
Natasha glanced left and right, then laughed: "I thought our battered appearance would attract the attention of bandits and rogues — especially since you were flashing your money around in that little town. But the road's been dead quiet. Takes all the fun out of it."
"You forgot this is a world without knights or mages?" Lucian replied with a casual smile. "Even though we're injured, that Violet Guardian armor of yours looks like something only a demigod hero or a divinely blessed one could own — at least in the eyes of villagers and bandits. They'd have to be out of their minds, hopped up on some kind of hallucinogen, to dare target us. Besides, if anything, beauty is an even more tempting prize than gold. Back in town, there were quite a few men sneaking glances at you."
Natasha shot him a look: "How do you know they were looking at me? Huh — they actually built a half-decent castle in the middle of this black forest? Could
At the center of a thicket of black willows ahead, a fortress-like castle rose up, its walls blanketed in ivy and dead leaves that completely obscured the original stonework. The tallest spire at the summit already bore the rudimentary outlines of mage architecture. In the minds of the earliest mages, building tall, pointed mage towers was an attempt to draw closer to the heavens — closer to the truth of the world.
Hearing that Nika had been studying the mysteries of the gods through the patterns found on monsters, Lucian and Natasha immediately connected it to the origins of mages.
Perhaps during the Age of Myth, or the era of steam civilization, when dragons, elves, werewolves, and other races ruled the world, it was precisely "madmen" like Nika who allowed humanity to slowly rise. But eventually they had veered further and further down that insane and bloody path, and at last reaped the bitter consequences.
And yet in this world, under the oppression of theocracy, the seeds of magic had sprouted once more — inevitably. Perhaps it wasn't just Nika. Elsewhere, there must be similar "madmen."
"Nika has never studied Meditation techniques and doesn't know a single spell, yet through nothing more than random fluctuations in his spiritual power, he can move objects and start fires. That means his spiritual strength is already at the level of a third- or fourth-circle mage. His magical talent far surpasses mine — I'd say within the Council, only a handful of mages like Lord Brooke could rival him before receiving formal training. For a genius like that to have made progress after years of research is perfectly normal." Lucian offered his assessment of Nika's situation with objective calm.
Still, talent was one thing; personal effort and the education one received were another. Of the handful of mages Lucian had mentioned whose natural gifts could rival Nika's, only Brooke had advanced to the legendary ranks. And in the history of magic, the pioneers of the nascent era may have possessed talent equal to or even greater than Nika's, yet not a single one had ever reached the high-tier ranks. But thanks to the groundwork they had laid — the knowledge they had explored, summarized, and passed down through more than a dozen generations — eventually someone did become a high-tier mage.
As they talked, the two of them drew close to the desolate, dilapidated castle.
*Caw!* A strange bird with pure white feathers landed on the stone pillar in front of the castle.
"This is the castle of the sage Nika. Outsiders are not welcome." The little bird lifted its head and strutted back and forth atop the pillar with an air of great pride.
Lucian smiled: "We've come to visit Mr. Nika the Sage. I hear he's done very extensive research on the patterns found on monsters and the classification of plants — as it happens, that's something of a specialty of mine as well, so I'd like to exchange ideas with him."
"*Caw?* You're not here to mock Madman Nika?" The bird said in its bright, clear voice, clearly surprised. "Someone else actually researches the mysteries of the gods? How can there be two madmen? Are you lying? Hmm — I'll have to test you. Can you tell me what kind of bird I am?"
"Obviously the one and only white crow — Mr. Nika's pet. A bird that possesses intelligence." Lucian said with a smile.
The little bird spread its wings in satisfaction: "Good answer. I need to go ask Nika whether he wants to see a madman like you."
As the bird fluttered up toward a window near the top of the castle, Natasha said in puzzlement: "Its white feathers must be dyed, right? And I'm pretty sure *The Complete Compendium of Living Creatures* doesn't list any white crows?"
"That's exactly what makes it the one and only white crow. Have you ever seen a crow dye its own feathers?" Lucian chuckled.
Natasha caught on and shook her head with a smile: "No, I haven't."
After a few minutes, the castle gate gave a long, creaking groan and slowly swung open. A golden-haired boy in a short white robe bowed respectfully: "Master invites you to the study for a conversation."
"Master? You're Mr. Nika's student?" Lucian looked at the boy, who was only eight or nine years old. It was hard to believe that a man known as "Madman" throughout the surrounding area actually had a student. Could he have been lured here as experimental material?
The boy seemed to have seen that particular look on visitors' faces far too many times. With a mix of grievance and indignation, he said: "Of course I'm Master's student! Master isn't the madman they say he is — he's a true sage. He has glimpsed the mysteries of the gods and commands extraordinary power. They fear him, they're terrified of him, and that's why they slander him."
Without waiting for Lucian or Natasha to reply, he turned and led them into the castle, still bristling with righteous indignation.
Lucian habitually scanned the castle's layout as they entered. Finding no Magic Circle defenses, he finally helped Natasha — whose left arm was completely immobile — through the gates.
They crossed the spartan hall and climbed a staircase to a dim, eerie corridor. They had taken only a few steps when the boy, still sulking up ahead, suddenly spoke up: "Master really isn't a madman. He was just studying the strange patterns on those monsters and plants — that's why he had to dissect them. Those hunters kill and eat far more animals than he does. They're used to the sight of blood, but they hypocritically condemn what Master does."
He was trying his hardest to defend Madman Nika, desperate to earn the approval of these two unfamiliar visitors.
"Mm, I understand." Lucian had performed dissections himself. At the same time, he found himself rather admiring this little boy — truly a devoted student.