Early the next morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the mist over Whisperlake, scattering shattered gold upon the shimmering ripples, Leon had already concluded his first session of conscious, deep meditation.
He sat cross-legged on the simple wooden floor of the cottage, facing the open window. He hadn't slept all night, yet his mind was exceptionally clear. Five hundred years of experience allowed him to guide the feeble, flickering flow of mana within this youthful body with maximum efficiency and precision. No flashy techniques were needed—only the most fundamental, essential synergy of breath and spirit, coupled with the slow, patient drawing of the sparse, barely perceptible magical elements from the surrounding environment.
The magical activity in this world was far more dormant than in his memories of its peak. If the free-floating magical elements during the golden age of his past life were like a dense fog, then now, it was like the thin moisture of a dry winter. For an ordinary magic apprentice, this was an insurmountable obstacle, meaning the difficulty of condensing mana and constructing a core increased exponentially. But for Leon, it was more like a form of tempering.
"A weak foundation brings the mountain crashing down." The cracks that had ultimately led to the collapse of his magic core in his previous life had originated precisely from incomplete filtration of elemental impurities during the initial condensation and a rush to fuse different attributes of mana. Resources were relatively abundant then; he had pursued speed, neglecting purity.
In this life, the sparse mana served as the most stringent filter. Every breath, every strand of mental energy drawn, had to be precise and patient, like collecting the purest dew in a desert. The speed would be agonizingly slow, but the foundation built this way would be pure beyond imagination.
"At this pace, using the modified basic version of the 'Stellar Veil Meditation Method' from my past life, it will likely take three to four months to initially reconstruct a stable, non-attributed magic core seed. To reach the 'Journeyman Mage' rank—stable enough to cast first-circle spells, possessing basic self-protection and reality-influencing abilities—will require at least a year and a half to two years of dedicated effort." Leon opened his eyes. A silvery glint, almost invisible, flashed deep within his pupils before vanishing. He assessed calmly.
This pace, in his past life, would have been snail-like. But in this era of dormant magic, if revealed, it would leave any so-called genius mage dumbfounded. More importantly, it would be a flawless foundation.
He stood up, stretching his somewhat stiff body. The sixteen-year-old physique was full of vitality but lacked conditioning, appearing somewhat slight. Magical cultivation required a robust physical vessel; basic physical training needed to be scheduled as well. However, all of this had to be done discreetly.
After a simple wash, he changed into his only semi-presentable, half-new linen outfit—altered by his mother from old clothes. Leon looked at his reflection in a blurry piece of metal in the corner. Black hair, black eyes, a handsome face still holding a trace of boyish youth. Only the profound calm and detachment in the depths of his eyes, so incongruent with his age, betrayed something unusual.
"That's fine," he murmured to himself, withdrawing the depth belonging to the Sage completely into his gaze, leaving only the appearance of a slightly introverted, polite, and gentle ordinary youth.
In the morning, Aelia arrived as promised. She wore a light blue knee-length dress with a matching jacket. Her pale gold hair was meticulously styled, tied back with a silver ribbon. She arrived in the same carriage with the vine-and-shield crest, though the driver this time was a younger servant.
"Good day, Miss Green." Leon was already waiting outside, holding the recommendation letter and simple identification documents provided by Lady Susan.
"Good day, Mr. Leon." Aelia nodded, gesturing for him to board. Her attitude remained polite and distant. Her gaze swept over him briefly before moving on.
The carriage headed towards Argent Glow Academy. The interior was quiet, filled only with the rhythmic clatter of wheels on cobblestones. Aelia seemed disinclined to talk, her gaze fixed outside. Leon was content with the silence, also looking out the window, silently memorizing Greyrock's street layout, main buildings, and landmarks—a habit cultivated in his previous life. Know your environment first, wherever you go.
Argent Glow Academy was located in Greyrock's eastern district, near the inner city wall. The architecture was imposing and solemn, making extensive use of local grey-white stone. Simple carvings of stars and books adorned arches and window frames, symbolizing the pursuit of knowledge and magical mysteries. The academy grounds were extensive. Within the high walls, several spire-topped towers were visible—specialized areas for elemental meditation and hazardous experiments.
Aelia was evidently familiar with the place. She led Leon through the wrought-iron main gate inscribed with the academy motto, "Seek Knowledge as the Starlight Shines Forever," heading straight for a relatively low but sprawling building—the Administration and Reception Office.
The process of registering as an auditor proceeded smoothly, almost blandly. The receptionist was an elderly, white-haired clerk with thick crystal spectacles. He took the recommendation letter, carefully examined the signature and personal seal of Lady Susan's late husband's friend—a history lecturer at the academy—looked Leon over, asked a few simple questions (name, age, origin, any prior exposure to basic magic theory), then registered Leon's information in a heavy parchment ledger. He issued Leon a crude copper badge engraved with a simple number and the word "Auditor," along with a handwritten class schedule and basic academy rules.
"Auditors may only enter public areas, use the first floor of the basic library, and attend theory classes marked as 'Open.' Access to experimental zones, advanced libraries, and private inquiries to instructors is forbidden without special permission. Board and lodging are your own responsibility; the academy does not provide them. A monthly auditing fee of five silver coins is due by the fifth of each month." The old clerk's voice was flat, as if reciting regulations. "If you are admitted in the formal entrance examination three months from now, these restrictions will be lifted automatically, and you will receive corresponding subsidies and privileges based on your results. Understood?"
"Understood. Thank you." Leon took the badge and papers, giving a slight bow.
"Good luck, young man. A thousand try to squeeze into Argent Glow every year; barely a hundred stay." The old clerk pushed his glasses up and returned to the mountain of papers before him, dismissing them.
Leaving the administration office, Aelia visibly relaxed, as if a task assigned by her mother was complete. "Open basic theory lectures are held twice daily in the 'Morning Star Hall' in the mornings. Sometimes, instructors give extra专题讲座 in the afternoons; the notice board will announce them. The basic library is over there." She pointed to a nearby two-story stone building. "Your badge grants access. Lunch is available at the 'Acorn Dining Hall' west of the academy; slightly pricier than outside, but portions are decent. If there's nothing else..." She paused, clearly intending to take her leave.
"Thank you very much for the guidance, Miss Green." Leon expressed his thanks appropriately. "You've already helped me immensely. Please convey my gratitude to Aunt Susan again."
Aelia nodded, seemingly satisfied with Leon's understanding. "Then, farewell, Mr. Leon. I hope you pass the examination successfully." With that, she turned and walked towards another, clearly more refined area of the academy where students dressed more finely—the main domain of regular students and some noble offspring.
Leon rubbed the cool copper badge in his hand, his gaze calmly sweeping over the ancient, solemn academy buildings. In his previous life, he hadn't lingered here long, having been taken away directly by the "Azure Star." In this life, this would be the first formal stage for his re-cultivation. Though just an auditor, the foundational theory courses and library here might be more valuable to him, needing to systematically rebuild a perfect foundation, than any high-level secret arts.
He didn't head to the Morning Star Hall or library immediately. Instead, holding the schedule, he slowly wandered the public areas accessible to auditors. He observed, memorized, and sensed. Faint magical residues lingered in the air, traces left by countless generations of mages studying and experimenting here. On the stone of the buildings, in inconspicuous corners, he occasionally spotted remnants of long-inert, low-level protective or temperature-control rune carvings. It all felt so familiar, yet so distant.
In the afternoon, following Lady Susan's invitation from the previous night, Leon visited her residence on Silver Oak Lane for dinner. It was a necessary courtesy and a response to her kindness.
Silver Oak Lane was in Greyrock's relatively affluent southern district—quiet, with wide, clean streets lined with two or three-story houses with small gardens. Lady Susan's home was a three-story stone-and-wood house with an attic. Ivy covered the exterior walls. Above the dark wooden door hung the polished vine-and-shield crest of the Green family.
Lady Susan herself opened the door, wearing an apron and a warm smile. "Leon, you're here. Come in, was the journey alright?"
"Perfectly fine, Aunt Susan. Thank you again for the recommendation; the procedures are complete." Leon handed over a small, neatly wrapped package of honey biscuits bought from a street-side bakery with the last few coppers his mother had given him. "A small token of thanks for your hospitality."
"Oh, dear child, you shouldn't have." Lady Susan chided gently, but her eyes crinkled with deeper warmth. She accepted the biscuits and ushered him inside.
The interior was comfortably and warmly furnished, bearing the hostess's thoughtful touch. Thick, dark carpets covered the floor. Landscape paintings hung on the walls. Above the fireplace hung a decorative small round shield and a ceremonial knight's short sword, symbolizing the late master's status. Bookshelves against the wall were filled with volumes—popular knightly romances, history, geography, and basic natural philosophy texts. The aroma of stewed meat filled the air.
"Aelia is changing upstairs; she'll be down shortly. Please, sit. Have some tea." Lady Susan led Leon to the living room where tea was already set. She seemed to hesitate slightly, lowering her voice. "We have another guest tonight, Sir Horn, a good friend of my late husband. He's now one of Greyrock's tax officials. He heard you were here and wanted to meet you. Don't be nervous. Sir Horn is quite amiable, just... takes an interest in the development of young people."
Leon understood. This was likely more than a simple "meeting"; it carried the meaning of "sizing up" the son of an old comrade, assessing his potential and worth. His expression unchanged, he nodded with a slight smile. "I understand, Aunt Susan."
Soon, Aelia came downstairs. She had changed into a more suitable at-home dress of light purple, her hair loosely tied up with a small pearl clip. She seemed less formal, more softly feminine than during the day. She nodded slightly to Leon and sat quietly beside her mother, deftly beginning to prepare the tea with graceful, practiced movements—clearly trained in ladylike arts.
Just as the first pot of tea was ready, the doorbell rang. Lady Susan rose to answer, ushering in a middle-aged man.
Sir Horn appeared to be in his fifties, his figure well-maintained without the portliness common to nobles of his age. He wore a dark brown velvet coat over a white lace shirt. His hair was neatly combed, his chin sporting a carefully trimmed short beard. His face was stern, his eyes sharp, carrying the shrewdness and scrutiny of one long accustomed to handling affairs. His eyes, like a hawk's, immediately settled on Leon upon entry.
"Good evening, Sir Horn. Thank you for joining us." Lady Susan introduced with a smile. "This is Leon, Isabella's son. Leon, this is Sir Horn, a friend of your father and Uncle Green from the old days."
Leon stood and performed a standard, respectful greeting. "Good evening, Sir Horn. It's an honor."
"Hmm." Sir Horn acknowledged with a nasal sound, his gaze lingering on Leon for a few seconds, taking in his simple attire, handsome yet slightly pale face (from the night of meditation and travel fatigue). He took the seat of honor, accepted the teacup Aelia offered with both hands, his posture casual yet carrying undeniable authority.
"Sit, boy." He took a sip of tea, set the cup down, his tone sounding reasonably amiable. "Susan tells me you've just arrived in Greyrock, planning to test for Argent Glow Academy?"
"Yes, Sir. Thanks to Aunt Susan's help, I've completed the auditing procedures and plan to take the formal examination next month." Leon sat, posture correct, his response neither subservient nor arrogant.
"Argent Glow... a decent start." Sir Horn nodded slightly, fingers tapping the armrest of the redwood chair. "However, the path of a mage is not an easy one. Immensely costly, with few succeeding. Your family... situation? How long can they support you?"
The question was direct, even sharp. A flicker of concern crossed Lady Susan's face. Aelia's hand paused slightly as she poured tea.
Leon remained calm, having anticipated this. He organized his words, choosing a reply most fitting for his current identity and closest to the truth. "Thank you for your concern, Sir. My father was once a knight in the Northern Border Guard. He retired years ago due to injury, running a small arms shop in a northern border town. My mother... has never enjoyed robust health. They have exhausted themselves to allow me this chance in Greyrock. I know the road ahead is hard, but this is the best path I can conceive to change my fate and honor my parents' hopes. I will strive to pass the examination, secure the academy's subsidies, and find ways to manage on my own."
He didn't hide his family's straitened circumstances, but his tone was forthright, without self-pity or unrealistic bravado—just a calm statement of fact and determination.
Sir Horn listened, his expression impassive, though the rhythm of his finger-tapping slowed for a beat. He leaned forward slightly, changing the subject. "Your father, Raymond... I recall him somewhat. A brave man, decent swordsman. Did he never consider you following in his footsteps, the knight's path? Though proper knightly fiefs are rare these days, with his old connections, placing you as a squire in a city guard or a competent noble's retinue, accumulating military merit slowly... that might be a steadier path. Or, you are literate? The church-affiliated academies, studying law, scribal work... securing a clerk's position in the city hall or under some lord is also a respectable future."
This was typical, pragmatic thinking of a local noble. A mage? Too ephemeral, high investment, high risk. Far less practical than military service, civil service, or attaching oneself to power.
Leon could feel Aelia's gaze from beside him, holding a trace of barely perceptible scrutiny, watching how he would answer. Lady Susan looked at him nervously, then at Sir Horn.
"Thank you for the guidance, Sir." Leon inclined his head slightly, his tone still even. "My father did mention the military path. But I've always had more interest in letters and knowledge. My constitution isn't particularly strong; I fear I might not achieve much in martial skills. As for the church academies and scribal work... I've considered that as well. It's just... the opportunity at Argent Glow is rare. I wish to try. If I truly lack the talent, it's not too late to consider other paths later."
He didn't directly refute Sir Horn's suggestions, but neither did he show eagerness for the so-called "steady paths." His reply sounded like the common yearning of a youth for the mysterious world of magic and a stubborn unwillingness to easily give up an "opportunity"—fitting for his age and background.
Sir Horn leaned back in his chair, the lines of his face seeming to soften a little, but the assessing glint deep in his eyes didn't fade. He spoke slowly, "Ambition is good. But, young man, keep your feet on the ground. A mage... hah. That requires real talent, and luck, and... sufficient resources." He paused meaningfully. "I know many instructors at Argent Glow. I've seen many young dreamers like you. Fewer than one in ten become Journeymen. Most waste a few years, learn some flashy tricks, and end up either returning home or finding some menial job in the city, barely scraping by. Since your family isn't wealthy, you must think carefully."
"Yes, Sir. I will remember your counsel." Leon replied respectfully. He knew Sir Horn spoke the reality, the "common sense" in the eyes of the vast majority in this world. He had no way, nor desire, to argue.
Next, Sir Horn asked a few inconsequential questions about Leon's hometown and journey, his tone returning to a casually avuncular one. But Leon could sense that the initial interest and the implied assessment of "perhaps paying some attention to the son of an old comrade" had faded. In Sir Horn's system of value, a youth from a declining family, lacking strong support, choosing an "impractical" path, clearly held little "investment value."
The dinner atmosphere was reasonably congenial. Lady Susan prepared a hearty meal: herb-roasted chicken, beef stew, cream of mushroom soup, and freshly baked rye bread. Sir Horn was a witty conversationalist, sharing anecdotes about Greyrock and minor official matters, occasionally asking Leon a question or two, but no longer touching on weighty topics like future plans. Aelia's table manners were impeccable. She spoke little, listening quietly, occasionally refilling wine for the guest at her mother's prompting.
After the meal, they sat for a while longer over after-dinner tea before Sir Horn rose to take his leave. Lady Susan and Aelia saw him to the door.
"Polite lad," Sir Horn commented to Lady Susan before leaving, his tone flat. "Just... perhaps a bit too ambitious. A mage, alas..." He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the meaning was clear.
After seeing Sir Horn off, Lady Susan returned to the living room, gently patting Leon's shoulder. "Don't take Sir Horn's words too much to heart. He's just... very pragmatic. It's good you have your own thoughts. Try if you wish. If you face any difficulties, remember to tell me."
"Thank you, Aunt Susan. I understand." Leon thanked her sincerely. He could distinguish that Lady Susan's care was simple and warm, different from Sir Horn's weighted scrutiny.
After a bit more casual conversation, Leon also took his leave. Aelia saw him to the door.
"You'll start attending lectures at the academy tomorrow?" Aelia stood under the porch, moonlight casting a soft silver edge on her pale gold hair.
"Yes, Miss Green."
"I wish you luck." She paused, then added, "The competition at Argent Glow is perhaps fiercer than you imagine. Especially for... auditors."
"Thank you for the reminder, Miss Green." Leon detected the complex nuance in her words—perhaps well-meaning advice, perhaps judgment based on her own perceptions. He didn't mind.
Leaving Silver Oak Lane, walking the road back to the cottage by Whisperlake, the night breeze carried a slight chill. Greyrock's lights gradually brightened behind him, sketching an outline of prosperity. In the distance, the spired shadows of Argent Glow Academy stood silent in the night, silently overlooking the city's flowing glimmers.
Sir Horn's slightly pitying judgment, Aelia's veiled reminder, Lady Susan's warm concern... all of it, like water washing over a reef, failed to stir many ripples in the lake of Leon's heart.
He looked up at the sparse stars just appearing in the night sky. Those stars, distant points of light in mortal eyes, were, in his eyes—the former Sage of the Northern Reaches—worlds, cold or blazing, operating under ancient, grand laws. Mundane judgments, noble hierarchies, the warmth and coldness of human relations, were as insignificant as dust before the vast truths of magic and eternal time.
"Pragmatic..." Leon murmured the word, a faint, almost invisible curve touching the corner of his lips.
The "substance" in their eyes was titles, wealth, connections, visible power.
The "substance" in his eyes was the ebb and flow of mana tides, the resonance of elemental essences, the ultimate deconstruction of runic arrays, the force to pry open the world's underlying rules.
A year of silence, two years of foundation-laying. Once the magic core was reforged, the power of a Journeyman Mage returned to him...
He walked steadily on, his figure gradually merging into the tree shadows along the lakeside path.
Then, the twilight of this Greyrock City, the lights of Silver Oak Lane, all this scrutiny and weighing, would appear in a different light.
The path beneath his feet had only just begun. And the scenery at its end would be beyond their imagination.