"That's precisely what I find so puzzling..."
Bronson's gaze was once again firmly fixed on the red Crystal Stone in Roland's hand.
After a moment, he forced himself to look away. With his brow deeply furrowed, he began to pace back and forth in the somewhat cramped room, the soles of his shoes letting out soft creaks against the wooden floor.
After a long while, his pacing suddenly stopped as if he had remembered something important. He slowly began to speak.
"I once read about a certain understanding of this world in an ancient text... The specific details are a bit fuzzy now, but the general idea was..."
Bronson looked up at the window. As the bright moonlight spilled onto his face, his voice grew deep and raspy.
"Everything in this world follows the Law of cycles."
"Like a flower that blooms in spring and withers in fall, eventually decomposing to nourish the soil. Like a stream that rushes down from a mountaintop to merge with the ocean, only to rise as clouds under the blazing sun, beginning the cycle anew. Like stars in the vast night sky that are born, shine, and face Annihilation, their dust giving birth to new light..."
As he spoke, he subconsciously folded one arm across his chest and rested his chin on the curled fingers of his other hand.
After pondering for a long time, he spoke again, his tone tinged with uncertainty.
"So I was thinking... perhaps the Magic Elements also follow the same Law of cycles..."
"You mean to say..."
Roland looked at the red Crystal Stone glimmering faintly in his hand and offered a tentative conclusion.
"The Magic Elements are slowly reawakening on this continent?"
"That's just my speculation, but..."
At this, Bronson's brow furrowed even deeper, and he pointed to the red Crystal Stone in Roland's hand.
"I'd much rather this be a coincidence. Because from what I understand, hundreds of years ago... this continent was not as barren and silent as it is today."
His gaze grew profound, and his fingertips gently brushed across the tabletop as if touching a sealed memory.
"Back then, Magic Elements flowed through the air as naturally as breathing."
"The trees in the forests could grow to be hundreds of meters tall, their leaves and branches shimmering with a soft glow. The water in the streams wasn't just water, but liquid Magic Power infused with Life Energy. A single sip could heal wounds. Even the most ordinary stones could, over long ages, develop a Spiritual Attribute and become living stones..."
"Wizards weren't as rare or mysterious as they are now, either. They walked between cities and wastelands, using Magic Power to build bridges, cure diseases, and even alter the weather."
"And even common people could perform simple rituals to borrow the Magic Power in nature for small tasks, like lighting a furnace or ripening crops... It was an era where humanity and Magic Power coexisted."
Roland listened, enthralled. The red Crystal Stone in his hand seemed to respond to the description, growing slightly warm.
"But then..."
Bronson's voice suddenly grew heavy.
"The Magic Power began to wane. No one knows the exact reason, but according to ancient records, when the Magic Power started to dry up, the people of that time called it the Year of the End. They knew a glorious era was about to conclude."
"Wizards found Casting more and more difficult. The light of the forests gradually dimmed. The creatures that relied on Magic Power either went extinct or degenerated into their current forms."
He gave a bitter laugh and pointed to the pitch-black night sky outside the window.
"You see, the night sky now only has the light of the stars themselves. But in the records, hundreds of years ago, the night was filled with auroras of Magic Power, flowing across the heavens like gauze and mist, a sight of incomparable splendor."
He paused, a complex mix of longing and worry flashing in his eyes.
"But that era was also fraught with danger."
"The Demons born and nourished by Magic Power were far beyond what we have today. They were immense, cunning, and savage. Some even possessed intelligence on par with humans."
"Humans, Elves, Dwarves... all the various Races had to unite just to barely manage to drive them into the dark corners of the world."
Roland stared down at the Crystal Stone and muttered.
"So... if the Magic Elements really are reawakening..."
"If the Magic Elements reawaken, even if the Demons have degenerated to their current feeble state, they will adapt faster than we will. The other Races need time to relearn Magic, but for Demons... instinct is all they need."
At this point, Bronson's mouth felt a little dry, and his tone grew more urgent.
"And then there are the Dwarves, Elves, Beastmen... these Races grew weaker by the day after the Year of the End and had no choice but to lie low."
"But if the Magic Elements truly begin to reawaken, will they really be content to let humans continue to dominate this continent?"
Roland tightened his grip on the red Crystal Stone, his knuckles turning white.
"So, the reawakening of the Magic Elements doesn't just mean the return of Magic..."
"It also means the return of war."
Bronson slowly shook his head.
"The Year of the End concluded the previous era. And now... we may be standing at the beginning of a new one."
After he finished speaking, the room fell into a sudden silence.
Seeing Roland's tightly furrowed brow, Bronson finally snapped out of his own vivid description.
He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, the passionate fervor from just a moment ago vanishing without a trace.
"Roland, actually, you don't need to worry too much..."
Bronson reverted to his usual timid demeanor, his fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of his clothes.
"All that... it's just stuff from ancient records. If... I mean, if..."
He stammered, his eyes darting about as if searching for the right words.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly looked up, a spark of inspiration in his eyes.
"If you know enough, you'll find that history is..."
Bronson slightly straightened his usually stooped back, his voice gradually growing firm.
"It's like a blank sheet of parchment, for later generations to write on as they please. Besides..."
He paused, his tone growing even more steady.
"Even if the Magic Elements really are starting to reawaken, it would take at least several hundred years for them to return to their peak state before the Year of the End."
"By then, you and I will have long since turned to dust, so there's no need to worry about what might happen."
"I understand what you mean, Mr. Bronson."
Roland nodded lightly.
Undeniably, the picture Bronson had just painted of the Year of the End had hit him with a powerful impact.
But now that he had calmed down, those horrifying scenes seemed somewhat unreal.
Roland glanced down at his frayed cuffs, then looked out the window at the muddy manor path.
Life here was almost indistinguishable from medieval Europe.
If he hadn't seen the rumored Kobolds with his own eyes, he would have thought this was a world with no trace of Magic.
And as for the Year of the End Bronson spoke of...
It sounded like a mythical age.
Tides of Elements sweeping the continent, Magic as common as breathing.
Compared to this backwater place where even lighting relied on oil lamps, it was a completely different world.
Roland took a deep breath, temporarily pushing Bronson's story to the back of his mind.
He calmed his emotions, then suddenly looked up as if remembering something, a meaningful curve playing on his lips.
"Mr. Bronson, everything you just said..."
He deliberately drew out his words and took a step forward.
"I'm afraid even those high-and-mighty noble lords might not know about it. So..."
"Who exactly are you?"
"Er..."
Looking at Roland's increasingly sturdy frame, Bronson involuntarily took two steps back, his expression turning a bit strange.
The scene felt familiar.
Just like that day in the dining hall, when he had turned the question back on Roland, asking where he had heard the word Silver Dust.
'This kid... is he doing this on purpose, or is it unintentional...?'
Remembering Roland's somewhat awkward expression that day, Bronson muttered a few words under his breath before plopping back down in his chair and spreading his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Alright, Roland. Since we've come this far, and you've already agreed to be my assistant, I won't hide it from you any longer."
His expression suddenly turned melancholic.
"I came from the High Tower—the legendary place where Wizards live. But because I could never master the Meditation Technique... I was expelled..."
"And if you want to ask about the High Tower... I'm sorry..."
Bronson gave a wry smile and tapped his temple.
"I have a restriction placed on me here. It's like one of those Curses you read about in pulp novels. Any attempt to reveal secrets about the interior of the High Tower will result in my immediate death."
"To be honest, even my own recent memories are starting to get fuzzy... Everything about the High Tower is slowly fading from my mind..."
Hearing this answer, Roland didn't feel particularly surprised.
After spending this much time with him, combined with their earlier conversation, he had already guessed Bronson's identity for the most part.
Even if he wasn't a Wizard, he had to be closely connected to them.
Seeing Roland so calm, Bronson seemed a bit unwilling to let his embarrassing secret be exposed so easily. He quickly recovered and shot back a question of his own.
"So what about you, Roland? Who are you, really?"
"Me?"
Roland smiled faintly.
"Just an ordinary person with a bit of a knack for smithing..."
...
...
In the end, Bronson failed to get the answer he wanted from Roland.
After all, Roland couldn't possibly tell him about the Professional Panel.
But as Bronson himself had said, he wasn't the type to get to the bottom of things.
Seeing that Roland didn't want to talk, he didn't press the matter further. Instead, they moved on to discussing the specific schedule for Roland's duties as his assistant.
Walking along the quiet manor path, the smile on Roland's face gradually faded. Images from Bronson's description, along with the recent Demon disturbances in Black Pine Forest and Chenxi Territory, involuntarily surfaced in his mind, and a sense of urgency welled up within him once more.
'I have to get stronger as soon as possible!'
With that thought, Roland quickened his pace back to his dormitory.
After a quick wash, he lay down on his bed and fell asleep swiftly.
He wasted no time, nor did he toss and turn over Bronson's words.
After all, tomorrow was the day of the Blacksmith Apprentice examination.