The red crystal carried an eerie quality, so Roland had kept it close ever since he obtained it.

He did not know how Bronson had sensed it through his clothes. But since the man had already noticed, there was no point hiding it.

Besides, Roland had questions of his own about the crystal's origin.

The Bloodscale Kobold had burned for no clear reason that day. Even now, the memory left him uneasy.

Roland shook off the image, reached into his coat, and took out the crystal.

"Mr. Bronson... are you talking about this?"

"This... how is this possible?"

Bronson's pupils contracted. His gaze locked onto the crystal, and his expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then settled into deep suspicion.

"Forgive my rudeness..."

He drew a breath, his voice unsteady.

"May I examine it, Roland?"

"Of course, Mr. Bronson."

Bronson took the red crystal with trembling hands.

He forced down the storm inside him and turned the crystal over with great care, inspecting every facet.

A moment later, he went still and knitted his brows.

The texture and luster matched a description he had once read in the Tower's records when he was young.

"Where did you find this?"

His voice came out dry, though he tried to keep it level.

"From a Mutant Kobold..."

Roland concealed part of the truth and gave him a brief account of that day.

When he mentioned the scales and flames, Bronson's face changed almost imperceptibly.

"Scales... flames..."

Bronson lowered his head, muttering to himself while his fingers rubbed the crystal's surface.

"Mr. Bronson..."

Seeing him drift away in thought, Roland's eyes narrowed.

"What exactly is this crystal?"

"Haa..."

Bronson exhaled. When he lifted his head again, the disturbance in his eyes had calmed.

He pressed his lips together, choosing his words.

After a short silence, he said, "It is a crystal formed from solidified mana elements."

"Mana elements?"

Roland did not recognize the term.

Bronson did not explain right away. He returned the red crystal and forced a thin smile.

"Come in first..."

He turned and walked into the room, exhaustion plain in his voice.

"You came all this way to find me. I doubt it was only to ask about that crystal."

Roland put his questions aside for the moment and followed him in.

The door closed softly behind him. Dim candlelight swayed in the cramped room, throwing their shadows across the mottled wall.

Roland untied the bundle in his left hand, took out the uniquely shaped dagger, and presented it with both hands.

"Mr. Bronson, I have completed the dagger you commissioned."

"Oh?"

Bronson had been sitting in a chair, massaging his temples. He looked up at once, took the dagger with care, and examined it under the weak candlelight.

When he raised his head again, disbelief showed in his tired eyes.

"I thought Mr. Hawk was simply being generous when he praised you. I did not expect..."

His fingers brushed the fine lines on the dagger's cylindrical center.

"You actually completed the forging in less than two months. And these patterns..."

Bronson's voice trembled, and rare excitement crossed his face.

"Did you carve all of them yourself?"

"Of course, Mr. Bronson..."

Roland noticed Bronson's strange reaction and took half a step back.

"Is something wrong with the patterns?"

"No. Quite the opposite. You did them too perfectly..."

Bronson seemed to realize he had lost control of himself. He steadied his breathing, though his fingers kept moving over the dagger's lines.

"I simply... did not expect you to reach this level."

Silence filled the dim room.

A moment later, Bronson looked up. A hunger Roland could not name burned in his eyes.

"Roland, how about another trade?"

"A trade?"

"Like before."

Bronson licked his cracked lips.

"My research has reached a bottleneck, and I happen to need an assistant. In exchange, I can answer all your questions about that mana crystal. Moreover..."

Seeing Roland give no immediate answer, he sprang from the chair and staggered to the bookcase in the corner.

His hands flipped through yellowed parchments and ancient books, sending dust into the candlelight.

In the blink of an eye, a stack of faded volumes lay in front of Roland.

Their covers had lost most of their color and were covered in webbed cracks. The engraved characters looked like twisted tadpoles, nothing like the orderly common script of the Golden Valley Kingdom.

Roland narrowed his eyes and barely picked out the word "theory" among the strange symbols.

"As for me..."

Bronson tugged at the corner of his mouth in self-mockery, revealing a bitter smile.

"The only thing I can offer is that I have probably read a few more broken books than ordinary people."

He raised his bloodshot eyes, earnestness entering his voice.

"So, if you are willing to serve as my assistant for a time, I will answer every question I can without holding anything back. What do you think of the trade?"

He stroked the ancient books and added, "These are books I have treasured for years. Believe me, their contents will help you a great deal."

Roland fell silent.

Candlelight stirred in his dark brown eyes, reflecting the struggle behind them.

To most people, this trade might not look worthwhile.

But to Roland right now, it was exactly what he needed.

Since arriving in this world without warning, the original owner had left him only a malnourished body and the useless status of a freeman.

He was like a blind man with open eyes, piecing together his understanding of the world from scraps of other people's words.

At first, he had planned to establish himself, then take his time exploring this unfamiliar place.

The encounter with the Kobolds had shattered that naive plan.

It had made him realize that this world was far more dangerous than he had imagined, and it might not give him much time to learn at his own pace.

As for Bronson's breadth of knowledge, Roland had already experienced it while studying under him.

Once he made his decision, Roland looked up and asked, "Then, Mr. Bronson... as your assistant, what exactly would I be responsible for?"

"The work is very simple!"

Seeing Roland agree, Bronson rubbed his hands together, unable to hide his delight.

He straightened his usually hunched back a little, and rare vitality appeared on his lowered face.

"But before that..."

He pointed at the red crystal in Roland's palm.

"I think I should answer your questions about this mana crystal first."

Bronson gave a light cough and began in a steadier tone.

"Roland, I imagine you have read the term 'wizard' in those novels people read for amusement?"

"Of course."

Bronson nodded and continued.

"When people talk about wizards, they usually enjoy discussing their strange and wondrous spells. However..."

He tapped the wooden table with his knuckles. The crisp sound paced his explanation.

"Casting spells requires drawing mana elements from the surrounding environment. Several hundred years ago, however, the mana elements in the world vanished for reasons no one understood. From then on, the group known as wizards faded from public sight..."

"Then this crystal..."

Roland opened his palm, revealing the faintly glowing red crystal.

He clearly remembered what Bronson had called it earlier.

A crystal formed from solidified mana elements.

"That is precisely what puzzles me."

Bronson's attention was pulled back to the red crystal in Roland's hand.

After a moment, he forced himself to look away. His brow tightened, and he began pacing around the narrow room. His soles scraped faintly against the wooden floor.

At last, his steps stopped.

Something seemed to come back to him, and he spoke with care.

"I once read an ancient book's understanding of this world. The exact wording is already blurred in my memory, but the meaning was roughly this..."

Bronson lifted his head toward the window. Moonlight fell across his face, and his voice grew low and hoarse.

"All things in this world follow the law of cycles."

"Flowers bloom in spring, wither in autumn, and become rot that nourishes the soil. Streams rush down from mountaintops, merge into the sea, then rise into clouds under the blazing sun, beginning again without end. Stars are born, shine, and perish in the vast night sky, and from their dust, new light is born..."

He folded one arm across himself and curled the fingers of his other hand beneath his chin.

After a long pause, he said, uncertain, "So I wonder... perhaps mana elements follow that same law."

"You mean..."

Roland looked at the red glow in his hand and summarized cautiously, "Mana elements are returning to this continent?"

"That is only my inference, but..."

Bronson's features tightened further. He pointed at the red crystal.

"I would rather this be a coincidence. Because from what I understand, several hundred years ago... this continent was not the poor, silent land it is now."

His gaze deepened. His fingertips moved over the tabletop, touching a memory sealed beneath dust.

"In that age, mana flowed through the air as naturally as breathing."

"Trees in the forest could tower over a thousand feet, with faint light shimmering among their branches and leaves. The water in streams was not merely water, but liquid mana filled with life force. One sip could heal wounds. Even the most ordinary stone might awaken after long years and become a living stone..."

"Wizards were not as rare and mysterious as they are now. They traveled between cities and wilderness, using mana to build bridges, heal disease, and even change the weather."

"Ordinary people could also borrow mana from nature through simple rituals for small tasks, such as lighting a hearth or hastening crops to ripen... It was an era when humanity and mana coexisted."

Roland listened intently. The red crystal in his hand seemed to answer the description, warming by a small degree.

"But later..."

Bronson's voice turned heavy.

"Mana began to decline. No one knows the exact reason, but according to ancient records, when mana began to dry up, the people of that time called it the first year of the Final Era, because they knew a glorious age was ending."

"Wizards found spellcasting more and more difficult. The forests lost their light. Creatures that depended on mana either went extinct or degenerated into the forms they have today."

He gave a bitter laugh and pointed toward the dark sky beyond the window.

"Look. The night sky now holds only starlight. But the records say that several hundred years ago, mana auroras once flowed across the heavens at night, gauze and mist woven together, splendid beyond description."

He paused, yearning and worry mingling in his face.

"But that age was also full of danger."

"The monsters born and nourished by mana were far beyond what exists today. They were massive, cunning, vicious, and some possessed intelligence no lower than humans."

"Humans, elves, dwarves... all races had to unite before they could barely drive those creatures into the dark corners of the world."

Roland lowered his head and stared at the crystal.

"So... if mana elements truly are returning..."

"If mana elements return, then even if monsters have degenerated into their current weak forms, they will adapt faster than we do. Other races will need time to master magic again. Monsters need only instinct."

Bronson's mouth had gone dry, and his tone tightened.

"And dwarves, elves, orcs... those races weakened after the first year of the Final Era and had no choice but to lie dormant."

"But if mana elements truly begin returning, will they really be willing to let humans continue ruling this continent?"

Roland tightened his grip around the red crystal, his knuckles whitening.

"So the recovery of mana elements does not merely mean the return of magic..."

"It means the return of war."

Bronson shook his head.

"The first year of the Final Era ended the previous age. And now... perhaps we are standing at the beginning of another."

The room went quiet.

Bronson saw the tension in Roland's face and seemed to wake from the world he had just described.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. The fervor from moments ago vanished.

"Roland, actually, you do not need to worry too much..."

Bronson returned to his usual timid manner, his fingers worrying the corner of his clothes.

"What I said just now... is only what ancient books recorded. If... I mean if..."

He stammered, eyes wandering as he searched for the right words.

After a short pause, he lifted his head, and a spark of inspiration crossed his face.

"If you understand enough, you will discover that history..."

Bronson straightened his hunched back a little, and his voice gained firmness.

"Is like a blank parchment, freely written upon by later generations. Besides..."

He paused, then continued more steadily.

"Even if mana elements truly begin returning, it would take at least several hundred years for the world to recover to the flourishing state before the first year of the Final Era."

"By then, you and I will have long since turned to dust. There is no need for us to worry about what happens at that time."

"I understand what you mean, Mr. Bronson."

Roland nodded.

There was no denying that Bronson's description of the Final Era had shaken him.

But once he calmed down, those terrifying scenes felt distant, almost unreal.

Roland looked down at his worn sleeve, then out the window at the muddy estate path.

Life here was barely different from medieval Europe.

If he had not seen the rumored Kobolds with his own eyes, he might have believed this world held no sign of magic at all.

And the first year of the Final Era Bronson spoke of...

That was practically a mythical age.

Elemental tides had swept across the continent. Magic had been as common as breathing.

Compared with this poor, remote place where even light came from oil lamps, it belonged to a different world entirely.

Roland drew a breath and pushed Bronson's words to the back of his mind for now.

Once his thoughts settled, he looked up again, the corners of his mouth curving with meaning.

"Mr. Bronson, what you just said..."

He deliberately drew out the words and stepped forward.

"Even those lofty noble lords may not know it. So..."

"Who exactly are you?"

"Uh..."

Bronson looked at Roland's increasingly sturdy frame and backed up two steps, his face turning strange.

This felt familiar.

It was just like the day in the dining hall, when he had asked Roland where he had learned the term silver dust.

"This little fellow... is he doing it on purpose, or was that an accident..."

Remembering Roland's embarrassed look that day, Bronson muttered a few words under his breath. Then he sat back down in his chair and spread his hands.

"All right, Roland. Since we have come this far, and since you have already agreed to become my assistant, I will not hide it from you."

His expression turned melancholy.

"I come from the Tower, the legendary place where wizards live. But because I was never able to master the meditation method... I was expelled."

"And if you want to ask about the Tower itself... I am sorry."

Bronson smiled bitterly and tapped his temple.

"A restriction was placed here. It is like the curses written in popular novels. The moment I intend to reveal internal secrets about the Tower, I will die on the spot."

"To be honest, even my recent memories have begun to blur... Everything about the Tower is disappearing from my mind."

Roland was not particularly surprised.

Through their interactions during this period, along with the conversation just now, he had already guessed Bronson's identity in broad strokes.

Even if Bronson was not a wizard, he was certainly closely connected to wizards.

Seeing Roland remain calm, Bronson seemed unwilling to let his embarrassing history sit exposed for long. He recovered and asked in return, "Then what about you, Roland? Who exactly are you?"

"Me?"

Roland smiled faintly.

"Just an ordinary person with a little talent in forging..."

...

...

In the end, Bronson did not get the answer he wanted from Roland.

After all, Roland could not tell him about the occupation panel.

But just as Bronson had said, he was not the sort of person who enjoyed digging to the root of everything.

Seeing that Roland did not want to say more, he stopped pressing and instead discussed the schedule for Roland's work as his assistant.

Roland walked along the quiet estate path, and the smile on his face faded.

The images Bronson had described returned to his mind, along with the recent monster unrest in the Black Fir Forest and Dawnlight Territory.

Urgency rose in him again.

"I have to increase my strength as quickly as possible!"

With that thought, Roland quickened his steps and returned to the dormitory.

After a simple wash, he lay down on the bed and fell asleep at once.

He neither delayed nor lost sleep over Bronson's words.

After all, tomorrow was the day of the Blacksmith Apprentice examination.