The next day they set out for the north and then to the west. It didn't take long for the sparse tundra beneath their feet to turn into lifeless frozen soil. The boots of the two crunched against the petrified wasteland, and there were only scattered lichens on the ground. The mage's mood was as bleak and desolate as his surroundings, but Keegan was still the same—stoic, uncomplaining, but also devoid of joy.

"What did you say that day," the barbarian shuffled beside the mage, "sounds like a lie." ”

The mage tilted his head slightly, his face in the shadow of his hood. "I've done a lot of things, and it's not all glamorous. But I didn't lie. ”

Keegan snorted, not knowing if it was an apology. "Well, maybe it's not a lie. More like ...... Legend? ”

The mage looked at him as he continued on his way. "Go on."

"That's the place. There is an empire. You say that kingdom was destroyed many centuries ago. ”

"Shurima? What's wrong? ”

"You said there was never frost or snow in that place, and it didn't freeze." Keegan laughed, as if he were telling a joke. "Master, I'm not as easy to deceive as you think."

The mage realized that the savage's curiosity had dispelled the gloom in his mind. He shifted the burden on his back to one shoulder, and couldn't help but smile on his face.

"I didn't lie to you." He stood still, pointing south. "To the south, far, far away, hundreds of days, across another ocean, where the land ......"

How do you explain the desert to someone who has only experienced winter? He asked himself. And how do you explain sand to someone who has only seen snow before?

“…… The dirt there is piping hot dust, and no one knows what snow is. The sun slapped mercilessly. Even rain is rare. So day after day, the earth longs for rain. ”

Keegan stared at him again, his white eyes revealing a look that seemed to wonder if what he was saying was another attempt to play tricks on his own nonsense. This kind of look mage has been seen in the eyes of many people in his life, from lonely children to fragile adults.

"A land that has never been touched by Anivia......" Keegan murmured. But is the world really that big? Big enough that a person can walk for so long and still can't see the end? ”

"That's true. There are also some continents in the world that are not covered by ice. You'll learn that there aren't many places that are as cold as Freljord. ”

Later in the journey, the conversation became more and more redundant. By the time they stopped and set up camp, there was nothing more to say. Even so, the young barbarian could not hold back. He looked across the fire, where Master was sitting cross-legged, sullenly thinking about something.

"Shouldn't you teach me something?"

The mage raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

He always had an expression on his face, as if he was saying that his apprentice was harassing him even if he was just alive. They had been together for a few weeks, and Keegan had grown accustomed to it. The young man grabbed his dirty hair with his hands and pulled away the ivory ornament that his mother had braided for him from his face. He babbled on his lips, hoping to say something that would interest Master as well.

But the mage didn't plan to deal with it at all, so he had to bite the bullet and continue to ask.

"Well, we can get there today...... Where are we going? ”

Master cautiously replied, "No." A few more weeks may not be. ”

The mage didn't look like he was joking.

"And, you're going through more hardships than I ever thought you could have in controlling your talents." He added faintly.

Keegan didn't know what to say. Sometimes, to keep silent is the only way to keep yourself from looking stupid or impatient. And that's exactly what he did. Looks like it's working well, as the mage continues.

"You've got talent, that's true. This ability is something you were born with. But you see magic as an external resistance, and you have to let go of that idea. It doesn't need to be tamed, it just needs to ...... Give it a gentle push. I've been watching you. When you're going to use magic, all you want is to transform it to your own will. What you want is control. ”

Keegan was confused. "But that's what magic is. That's what my mother used to do. When she wanted to do something with magic, magic would appear. ”

The mage's cheeks twitched in anger, but he suppressed his anger. "You don't need to make the magic happen. It's there. The primordial power of creation is all around us. You don't have to capture the magic and drive it to your own volition. You just need to ...... Encourage it. Channel the magic to flow the path you want it to take. He said, gesturing with his hands as if rubbing a clay mass. A faint chirp rang out in the air, and the tone was sustained and harmonious. The energy turned into a mist that swirled between his fingers, slowly converging together one by one. A few streaks of mist snaked out of the orb in the middle, like wriggling life, boiling and enveloping his faded hands.

"There are always those in the world who study magic with brute force, trying to find a way to force their minds into this source power. Despite being clumsy, it also has an effect. It's just slow, and the effect is limited. Keegan, you don't have to be so rude. I didn't make the orbs with magic, I was just encouraging them to come together into orbs. Do you understand? ”

"I know," Keegan admitted, "but it's not the same as 'understanding.'" ”

The mage nodded, smiling slightly. His apprentice finally managed to squeeze out a barely meaningful sentence.

"There are people with a strong heart, or a limited imagination, who are able to orchestrate the magical energy that flows between interfaces, and modify and harness magic according to their abilities. It was as if they were looking at the sunlight outside through a crack in the wall, amazed at the sight of the light seeping into the dark room. But they can go outside and marvel at the dazzling daylight. He sighed heavily. Keegan, your mother is one such mage. Through repeated rituals and inherent customs, she touched the corners of magic. But all she did—including all those who relied on rituals, magic weapons, and spellbooks—was to erect a barrier to isolate herself from purer power. ”

Keegan watched as the orb swirled in ripples, not trapped between the mage's hands, but constantly spilling over his palms, as if ready to escape.

"Young man, listen to this secret."

Their eyes met at this moment. Pale human eyes, reflecting the light of fire...... Master who doesn't know his true body.

"I'm listening." Keegan's tone was unexpectedly weak. He didn't want to appear ignorant and shocked, especially since he knew he had both.

"Magic longs to be used," said the mage, "and it is all around us, radiating outward from the fragments left behind when we first created things. It craves to be driven. This is the real challenge on the road we are all walking on. When you realize what magic craves, and how desperate it is...... Well, when the time comes, the difficulty will not be in how to start mastering magic, but in knowing how to do it in moderation. ”

The mage spread his hands and gently pushed the energy-surging orb towards his apprentice. Keegan cautiously reached out to take it, but as soon as his fingers touched the surface of the sphere, the magical energy collapsed. The fog thinned and became invisible. The sound faded and fell silent.

"You'll get the hang of it," the mage assured him. "Patience and humility are the hardest lessons, but they are also the ones you have to learn."

Keegan nodded, though not simply, and not without any doubt.

That night, the mage stayed up all night. He lay in a rough blanket and looked up at the surging aurora in the night sky. On the other side of the fire, Keegan was snoring.

It must be a dream that only heartless people dream of. The mage thought to himself.

No. It's not fair. Keegan was a brute, yes, but he was a young man who had grown up in a land of suffering. The souls conceived by Freljord are bound to see survival as a supreme need. Wild beasts roaming the wilderness with iron fangs like spears, hostile villages burning and looting along the frozen shores, and winters that last for hundreds of years. In this land, writing and painting are extravagant pastimes – books are even more unthinkable. Generations of people can only rely on the repeated whispers of deaf old men and tribal shamans to pass on the story.

And Keegan, even if he is dull and stubborn, is far from being heartless.

Did I do something wrong with him? Am I out of compassion at that moment, or am I weak?

It seems that the jury will never be conclusive.

I could have dropped him—the thought of it, and it swelled uncontrollably—and it wasn't the first time anyway......

The mage's gaze fell on the sleeping barbarian through the quivering heat stream above the embers. The young man's lips twitched slightly, and his fingers shook accordingly.

"I wonder what you'll dream of, Keegan Novo," the mage whispered, "what kind of ghost wants to possess you in the fading memories?" ”

Night after night, Keegan walked in his past. Before meeting the Mage, he was an exile on a barren ice field, and a strong will to survive was the only thing that could warm him.

Further on? Hatchet man. An unsuccessful shaman. A son who is at odds with his mother.

His body barely survived nineteen winters, and he was still a posterior by the standards of any other place - except for Freljord. He struggled to survive with knives and tricks, earning both a little fame and a far more infamy than he deserved.

Night after night, he was displaced, lost in a roaring snowstorm, and slowly froze to death. He was a physician who was fumbling among the rocks in the pouring rain, searching for precious herbs in the weeds that would be missed if he was not careful. He was a boy, huddled in his mother's cave, safe from the chaos of the world, but not from his mother's gaze—a gaze full of worry.