In the rough sea, a white-headed brown osprey flutters its wings and flies. Under the influence of the fierce sea breeze, the feathers of the osprey's whole body hunted, but even then it was not afraid to move forward against the wind.

It wasn't long before the silhouette of a small city appeared in front of it, and the osprey let out a long roar and flew faster towards the front.

In the magical tower of the Floating City, a man with black half-length curly hair reclines on a chair, his feet in leather shoes crossed on the table. In his hand he was holding a newspaper with a few floral characters printed on it - the Daily Journal of the Wizards' Guild (internal edition).

"There's a lot of nonsense, nothing useful!" The man threw the newspaper on the table, and his expression became a little lonely: "Since I came to Floating City, my life has become more and more boring day by day, and I really miss the life of Gus Town......"

"The entire guild is counting on you, Speaker Albert. A young man in a wide magician's robe standing next to him said respectfully. He was the same young magician who had been in charge of contacting Albert at Casali, who later "seconded" him to the headquarters and became his assistant.

"Bang!" the glass window behind him seemed to have been hit by something. Albert was startled and turned his head to see a brown osprey scratching the glass with its talons outside the window, desperately trying to get in.

Albert got up and opened the window, and the osprey immediately flew down to him, and then slowly turned into a cloud of ashes, dissipating without a trace. He recognized the osprey, the fisherman's magic messenger.

Sure enough, there is a big problem with the Cursed Forest, Albert said secretly.

"Quincy, get ready, let's go to the president. Albert frowned, muttered for a few seconds before commanding.

While the power of the Magical Council seems to be greater, and all members of the Council can even remove the president if they agree, Albert is now faced with no one available. The Wizards' Guild seems to be somewhat repulsive to the Magic Council, and many even have a vaguely hostile attitude.

Quincy began to prepare things in earnest. Albert habitually opened the drawer of the table, but his heart felt as if he had been pricked by a needle, and a dull mini pan flute was lying quietly in it. He put the newspaper on it, sighed, and closed the drawer again.

......

On the west coast of the frozen wasteland, the setting sun shines through the mist on the coarse sand. A man walked lonely towards the hill with his back to the setting sun, his shadow stretching several meters forward.

As the days passed, Vane looked even more depressed. With his dirty hair and ragged coat, he looked like a beggar on the streets of Obojar. He walked forward with the Song of the Red Flame in one hand and a tattered iron bucket in the other. The bucket he had picked up from the ruins of a northern elven village, and although it was rusty, it didn't leak. There were several fish in the bucket, two of the larger ones had been disemboweled, and cleaned.

"Bambu ......" The round Bambo stood on Vane's right shoulder, staring intently into the bucket.

Vane looked at it, a smile on his lips. He reached out and grabbed a small fish from the bucket and threw it to Bambu. Bambu nimbly bit the small fish a few times and swallowed it in his stomach.

After more than ten minutes, Vane returned to the cave, which had a lot more to offer than he had just arrived a few days ago. In addition to the tattered ironware and jars, there was a simple bed made of stones and earth in the corner, and a mat made of thin rattan weaving. In the other corner, there is a pile of firewood—a stack of dry branches. This is Vane's "home" in the frozen wasteland.

In the middle of the cave was a stone stove, and Vane walked over and placed the bucket beside him. His mind moved, and a crimson flame appeared at the top of the staff. Soon, the fire that had been extinguished burned again.

Vane poured the water and fish from the bucket into the iron pot on the stone stove, and sat down on a stone in front of the stone hearth. Next to him was a small stake, on which the owl Bambu was standing with his eyes closed.

It was dark, and it was very quiet, except for the occasional birdsong, except for the occasional sound of birds, except for the "whirring" of the fire. Vane added some wood to the stove, and flames kept coming out of the cracks in the stones, illuminating the entire cavern like a dream.

Vane pulled out a photograph from his satchel, showing several people's faces already faded and blurred to varying degrees.

Vane had thought he had forgotten everything and was about to start a new life on this desert island. But at night, when darkness enveloped him, loneliness and despair came like a tidal wave, tormenting him like an inextricable nightmare, making it impossible for him to sleep, not even to meditate.

But in recent days, the situation has improved, and his mood is no longer collapsing. It was as if a protective shell was gradually appearing on the outside of the heart, and that shell was thickening and hardening, protecting his soft heart inside.

Although the shell helped Wayne resist loneliness and despair, it could not stop the deep longing, which took root and grew in his heart like a seed. Familiar figures flashed in his heart, like a knife piercing his heart, and tears unconsciously overflowed from the corners of his eyes.

"Remember, never give up hope. "That's what his uncle told Vane when he first started learning magic. Until now, he still remembers the serious look of his uncle when he said this, and he was like two people in normal times. It was this sentence that helped him to persevere in learning the lingua franca, to read the magic book, and even to learn the first magic ......

Wayne thought about it, tears had dried up, but his stomach began to "growl" unconsciously.

The water in the pot was already boiling, and the fragrant boiled fish was churning up and down in the water. Vane swallowed, picked up a spoon and scooped a chunk of fish from inside.

......

About two kilometers north of Kyaland, the capital of the Ataga Kingdom, is a mountainous area with a radius of more than ten kilometers, and it is one of the few large mountains in Ataga. The trees are loose and low, and it is inhabited by a variety of small and medium-sized animals, making it a natural hunting ground.

However, the mountainous terrain north of Akran is usually inaccessible because it is designated as a game reserve, or more precisely a "civilian game reserve". The princes and nobles of Akrand would come here from time to time to experience the pleasures of hunting.

At this time, on the south side of the hunting ground, a procession of dozens of people marched through the woods.

"Father, there's a place in front of you that the dwarf deer often hang out. The young man riding a brown horse at the front turned his head and said to the bearded king. He is the king's eldest son, who has just turned 30 this year, and is white and chubby, almost like a mustache.

Riding a white horse, he nodded and took a bow from his attendant. The bow was made of purple wood, with intricate ornamentation carved on it, and it had an extraordinary appearance.

"Shhhhhh

A few dozen meters ahead, a light brown dwarf deer was grazing with its head down. Dwarf deer is one of the more common animals in Ataga, with a length of more than a meter and explosive power, but relatively low vigilance.

Mustache took a long arrow from his back and put it on the bow, and slowly pulled the bow away, aiming it at the dwarf deer.

“...... Your Majesty!!"

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