Jonas instinctively jerked his head back, but the iron door was, after all, a vertical, long slab; if it didn't hit him high, it would go low, and with a whoosh, it slid between the old mage's legs, delivering a fatal blow to his groin.
"I'm going to f-ing..." Jonas groaned, falling sideways to the ground, as the rude guest who had crashed through the door rushed in like a whirlwind, letting out high-pitched cheers, and with heavy thumps, delivered two kicks to the old man on the floor, one to his waist, and one to his chest.
"Teacher! I've learned it! Oh, dear," the newcomer was a scruffy young mage, who tripped over Jonas's body and stumbled, falling onto the old mage—knees first, "What was that!"
"It's me!"
The young mage then realized he had done something wrong and quickly helped Jonas up, "Oh dear, Teacher, how did you end up on the floor by the door? Who hurt you!"
Muttering in pain and frustration, Jonas unleashed every vulgarity he had ever learned, scaring the young man into shrinking his neck like a quail in a snowstorm, his blue eyes wide, his gaze bewildered and innocent. Jonas's anger dissipated halfway through his rant. Covering his injured, aged body, he walked step by step towards the door. He understood now; he couldn't stay in this room any longer. Even if he were buried by snow, frozen to death by the wind, he would never remain in this cursed place... A bone-chilling frost stream struck his deeply lined cheek. For a moment, he felt an aching numbness deep in his spine, and the snowy white world before him was like a chaotic maw, waiting for him to offer his warm blood.
The young mage stared blankly as his mentor stood frozen at the doorway for a few seconds, then, as if time were reversing, he pulled back the leg he had stepped into the air and retreated step by step back inside.
Putting everything else aside, it really was warm in this room!
Jonas returned to the stone stool with a sour face and carefully sat down, then fixed a death glare from his authoritative body upon the clumsy fellow who had injured him.
The young Shalidor forced a gentle smile, "Teacher, I'm glad you're alright. I specifically came to tell you that I've completed the task you assigned..."
Jonas mumbled something and turned his head away, ignoring the simpleton.
The papyrus on the table was covered with text, symbols, and drawings. Jonas was now experiencing a dull, constant ache throughout his body, so he wanted to read something to distract himself. He casually pulled out a few sheets of paper and examined the messy notes. Due to his limited knowledge, it was difficult to understand, and his disciple's incessant chatter filled his ears. For a moment, Jonas actually felt a sense of calm.
A warmth emanated from the inner layer of his clothing, permeating the old mage's withered, weak body and bringing him a rare burst of vitality.
Jonas raised an eyebrow and pulled a square bone Charm from his collar. It was a magical artifact, with ancient and exquisite enchanting craftsmanship, making Jonas's eyes light up.
If this was a dream, then the boy hoped to wake up later, simply because he had discovered a treasure trove of knowledge. Every word on every sheet of paper on that table emanated the light of wisdom, and he was a scrawny little fish fry, striving to absorb nourishment.
The young mage's three hours of high-intensity babbling finally drove Jonas almost insane. Presuming the other person didn't understand him, the boy also began to babble on. When Shalidor heard his mentor speaking a language that was both strange and familiar, he was immediately overjoyed, "Teacher, you have new knowledge again! That's truly amazing!"
Jonas looked at Shalidor with a look of disdain, because the fellow gave him a sense of déjà vu—like looking in a mirror.
Pah, I'm not that clingy! The boy immediately denied any possibility of resemblance between himself and this idiot.
Shalidor suddenly began to chant, and three seconds later, he cast a spell on himself—Comprehend Languages.
This mysterious school of magic, lost in later ages, allowed the caster to understand and use any form of communication that existed in the river of time. However, its duration was not long, and it was difficult to enchant items with it, so it was considered an emergency measure.
"...You noisy bird, you're truly deafening. I don't understand anything you're saying and don't want to, yet you can talk for so long, I'm truly impressed. One or two minutes is fine, but two or three hours, you're truly amazing. Since you're so capable, why don't you go to the front lines of a battle and engage in a cursing match? Perhaps if you cursed from morning till night, the battle wouldn't need to be fought, and that would truly be a great act of kindness..."
"Teacher, do you dislike me?" Shalidor expressed his grievance.
Jonas shrieked in horror, "You understood? What?"
Shalidor scratched his face, "I just used Comprehend Languages, that's all."
"Cast one on me too!"
Half an hour later, Jonas finally learned this remarkably practical magic. Then, ignoring Shalidor, who continued to babble, he began to diligently read the notes on the desk.
After an unknown amount of time, Shalidor had quietly left. Jonas raised his head from the desk, his expression bewildered. He found that he couldn't remember the content; it was too profound and obscure, to the point that forcibly reading it would cause severe headaches, as well as chaotic auditory, olfactory, and tactile hallucinations. Some patterns even gave him the eerie sensation of living things, like an invisible deep-sea giant squid circling the room, its tentacles cold and strong, gently tapping his back, carrying a rich scent of thistles, and making gurgling, bubbling sounds.
If not for the constant emergence of strange inspirations in this body's mind, and the Charm on his chest continually bringing him vitality, Jonas would have given up trying long ago.
Disorganized, fragmented knowledge, like a chaotic jigsaw puzzle, churned in his muddled mind, gradually forming several powerful spells. Jonas could feel the tremor of magical energy, and the earthbones, like mountains parting the clouds, revealed their majestic and magnificent forms.
This was powerful strength, the strength to change the world with will... Incredible.
Jonas became increasingly immersed in the vast sea of notes. Time passed, and six days flew by. During this time, countless people knocked on the door, but after receiving no response, they disappeared, leaving the boy in a quiet environment. However, this comfortable atmosphere was forcibly broken by two men.
"Father!"
"Dad!"
Jonas turned his head, "Which two sons are calling me?"
Two burly Nord men rushed through the door, "Father, did our second brother come looking for you?"
"Second brother?" Jonas recalled, could it be the man with eyes like a hawk? "It seems so."
"Don't believe a single word he says!"
These two snow-covered fellows squeezed into the room and were forcibly stopped by Jonas before their wet shoes touched the unorganized papers on the floor.
There was no second chair in the room, surprisingly spartan. The two sons, however, were prepared. They brought two spare wooden stools from the hallway, leaned them against the wall, and sat down comfortably, looking like two bears squatting on apples. The wooden stools let out worrying creaks.
Jonas rubbed his aching head, "So, what do you want to say?"
The sons were flustered. Before they could speak, the second brother also burst in.
Jonas looked towards the doorway. At that moment, a cold glint pierced his chest.
The second brother lowered his longbow, his face icy. His brothers seemed stunned, silently watching Gauldur slowly collapse to the ground.
Jonas felt blood surging from his lungs into his mouth, like mouthwash, slipping through his teeth, blowing bubbles. The invisible giant squid in the room now revealed its form, floating before his eyes. The fireball on the ceiling slowly disintegrated, golden sparks and waves of fire filling the upper half of the room, like an ocean.
A genuine realization rose in his heart—death had arrived.
Gauldur, the respected old mage, was murdered by his own son.
He lay on his back, the last sight he saw in life a hallucination: a wondrous deep-sea monster lowering its tentacles, like the aerial roots of a banyan tree, drawing his soul from his body, hanging him upside down in mid-air, above a splendid ocean.
-------------------------
If you enjoy this story, you can read 70+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
Webnovel will keep getting 1 new chapter every day but Patreon readers can stay far ahead.
Maybe it's not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
[email protected]/Greyhounds
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"