For Jonas, it didn't really matter what he ate for a farewell meal; although enjoying the hot, savory food made him forget his worries, worry was not happiness.
Happiness is a very pure thing. The boy couldn't describe what true happiness was. He saw the people in the tavern were joyful, smiling, but a smile was not joy. He found a drunkard falling over amusing, but a drunkard falling over was not joy. Looking at everything around him, illuminated by the orange-red flames, it was warm, but warmth was not joy.
However, he knew that once happiness was interrupted, it was very difficult to be happy again. In this way, joy was like a bonfire; once extinguished, it was troublesome to rekindle.
So what is worry? Worry is a never-ending river in one's heart, sometimes flowing underground, sometimes surfacing to enjoy the sun, spreading its foul, poisonous mist everywhere. Interrupting worry is useless, just like blocking a river is useless.
"Sir, please don't go."
Jonas had said this once in the tavern, softly, still immersed in that paradise. Now, standing on the dim, night-shrouded street, the boy couldn't help but say it again. This time, he and Simon were both sober.
Even if separation was a destined outcome, even if they had prepared themselves mentally many times, it didn't prevent the sadness and heartbreak when the moment arrived.
Simon still couldn't empathize with Jonas's state of mind, so he laughed, "Why weren't you this sad last time?"
"Last time, you left too quickly, I didn't have time to be sad…"
…His toenails were itching again.
When he was a child, he was indeed afraid of separation, but he became accustomed to it sometime. He went to and from school alone, went to work alone, rented a room, watched other people's parents, other people becoming couples, watched the complete crowds around him. This kind of sadness seemed to never end, but one gets used to pain. Childhood always has many unfamiliarities, many stings, but as one slowly becomes numb, it passes. A childhood that will never return will end.
Once again, he stood outside the gate of the College of Winterhold.
Unfortunately, the moon could not be seen here.
The boy looked up, dirty, with a bit of snot running down his nose.
Simon thought for a moment, then hugged Jonas.
"Kid, you're just afraid the road ahead will be difficult, but you have to know, even if I stay with you, the road is never easy. Go on your way, I'll be watching you. Tell me if you get bullied, hmm?"
"Hmm!"
"Take this bucket of money and use it well; don't be reluctant to spend it."
"Hmm."
"I'm leaving."
"Just a little longer."
…
"Okay, thank you, Sir."
Simon shook his head, turned, and slowly walked towards the stone bridge, like a rolling stone moving slowly beneath a glacier.
Jonas watched the Troll disappear into the darkness, then laboriously picked up the wooden bucket and walked into the College.
Simon returned to the tavern and packed his luggage.
He bought a newly made pine two-wheeled cart. The cart bed was filled with books, some cooking utensils, a few pounds of beef and lamb chops, a barrel of salt, and six blocks of goat cheese. Fully loaded, Simon swayed as he held the cart handle and left Winterhold.
He still walked along the coast, but due to the tides, many places weren't always passable. Simon pushed the cart for a while, then carried it for a while. One stretch of road took him a day and a half, and the Troll was exhausted like a dog.
"Oh my god! I'm so tired!!!"
Returning to the Wolf Pack Resting Place, the first thing he did was crawl back into his bedding for a half-day nap.
When Simon woke up, he found the Wolf Pack gnawing on beef and lamb chops.
They were also a bit hungry.
Simon snatched a few pieces, intending to roast them. He first went to find wild fruits and vegetables to marinate the chops for a while.
Now he was also getting lazier. He used to be a youth who would cross mountains and rivers for food, but now he was a middle-aged man who just followed a process for cooking. Only when cooking for Jonas did he still think of putting in some effort.
After eating and drinking his fill, he sat down and flipped through the «Frostbite» spellbook. The content was very similar to «Flames», with only slight differences in incantations and formations.
When a normal mage casts a spell, mana flows from the central brain, through the neural network to the limbs, into the spell formation in the hands, and then through resonant shaping, completes the spell.
Simon still couldn't call upon a large amount of mana at once. When taking water from a river, the amount scooped up at one time depended entirely on the river's flow rate—which was often insufficient. In fact, the problem he faced was more complex: naturally flowing mana was chaotic, and its distribution per unit of space was actually very sparse, more like airflow than water flow.
If he couldn't solve this, he wouldn't dwell on it.
Simon entered a meditative state, sensing the melody of frost.
The world is a complete and complex whole, and individuals can often only perceive a part: a part of light, a part of space, a part of time, a part of mana, and even a part of themselves.
Returning to a state of innate nature is also compensating for one's deficient senses, but ultimately one cannot achieve complete enlightenment and omniscience, not even a Bodhisattva.
Ice and snow are different from fire. Fire is a phenomenon, ice and snow are an object. But the products of mana are still different from the creations of the material world. Lifeless things can be given life. As long as one resonates with the corresponding mana frequency, and then pours in logic, passion, and sensibility, it is a simple act of creation.
Simon could still only see a little. In the magical world before him, sharp ice peaks tilted against the sky like phantoms behind a water surface. The moon shimmered within the body of an iceberg, as if it would explode the next second, but it didn't. Ripples of light swept across the ice plain from the sky, a fierce wind. The sky was dark blue, the horizon flat and white, with a pale golden halo on a white line, as if suns were about to rise from all directions. These were all illusions.
—What you see is not necessarily real; it could be your illusion, or even someone else's illusion, or even a dream that is not human.
Simon awoke to find a two-and-a-half-foot-tall, light blue ice puppet with a conical head sitting on the ground. Its head and body looked like two conical shapes joined together, its limbs were thick, its hands were also pointed cones, but its feet were heavy, making it look like a Transformer. It would definitely have a sense of power when posing.
"Complete."
Simon waved his hand and put away this Frost Elemental. As the saying goes, the first time is unfamiliar, the second time is familiar. When he had enough mana in the future, he would definitely raise a summoning army. When fighting, he would just box them all and attack, or shout some intimidating words like 'I'll use your skull as a bowl!' to make sure his aura was strong.
After receiving the guidance of the Frost Elemental, the Pure Land gained the concept of earth. Now, a Fire Elemental hung in the sky, and on the ground was an ice continent. A mountain peak rose from the ground, and a teardrop sparkled at its summit like a divine treasure.
"Ah, it's quite good."
Simon admired it, and at the same time, felt a pang of sadness.
There are always many things in the world… Never mind, he was getting lost in memories again.
Letting go and doing it was the right thing to do.
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