Translator: Pai_

Unlike ordinary wizard families, it is not easy for the head of a great house to pass down their position to their direct descendants.

The probability of immense magic power being passed down to children is only slightly higher than the probability of inheriting height or appearance. In a great house, there are often dozens of relatives within the same generation.

Since they all share the same ancestors if you trace back far enough, it’s common for at least one relative to be stronger than the head’s direct descendants.

“In such circumstances, when a child with the greatest talent among the head’s children is born, they receive full support from an early age.”

The princess of House Arabion, Meisa, was the youngest daughter born between the head of the family and a branch noble of the House Berg.

Of the head’s three children, the firstborn manifested a maternal bloodline ability and was sent to the maternal side through adoption, and the second child was considered mediocre. Then, a child born of a concubine demonstrated the talent to inherit the position.

What’s more, Meisa was not only born with strong innate magic power but also possessed a natural talent for learning magic. After awakening her magic power, it took her only ten years to master not only Arabion’s bloodline magic but also a variety of combat spells.

As a result of receiving full support, even at the young age of twenty-one, her magic power was on par with the core members of the family.

Thanks to this, she was expected to become one of the strongest heads in the history of House Arabion. Some even anticipated that by the time she became the head, she could destroy House Zahar entirely.

"With that much magic power at that age, did they perhaps give her all the 'funerals' within the family?"

"That's right. She even got our great-grandfather's magic power. Though we also received our share."

It’s not only magical beasts but all magical beings that leave behind magic power even after death, which can cause phenomena like turning into an undead spirit.

Naturally, the magic power of a deceased wizard can also be absorbed. Even Turan and Ashiz absorbed the magic power of the corpses of knights from House Berg while burying them.

This process is commonly referred to as a ‘funeral’, and in Arabion, the funerals of nobles who died from old age or accidents were concentrated among a few talented young wizards.

By doing this, it became possible to accumulate sufficient power within the family without the need for inconvenient pilgrimages.

Of course, this meant that other members of the family, who didn’t inherit this magic power, had to hunt magical beasts diligently.

‘It’s clear why great families have the means to reign supreme...’

Turan briefly felt envious, but he quickly reminded himself that the talents he possessed were already a great gift. With that thought, he snapped his fingers once.

The spark created by the friction heat transformed successively into the shapes of a fireball, an arrow, a spear, and then a sword.

Seeing this, Ashiz laughed incredulously.

“Shape transformation of fire? You’ve already added three more?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn it, I’ve already forgotten how to use that.”

Even as they walked and chatted, they trained their magic in various ways.

Watching Turan practice different spells every day motivated Ashiz to resume the combat magic training he had been neglecting. He said he didn’t want to stand by helplessly as his people were killed again.

Ashiz shared with Turan his theoretical knowledge of various spells, many of which overlapped with what he had learned from Keorn, and in return, Turan taught him a few types of magic he had self-studied on the hill and the simplest laws of nature he had learned at the library.

Of course, he didn’t reveal that he knew how to use detection or concealment magic.

He didn’t want to give away any clues about being of the Zahar bloodline.

In any case, through this exchange, Turan was able to get a sense of how fast a wizard with ordinary talent could learn magic.

'Even when focusing on training one thing, it takes several days to learn. And even then, it’s not at a level usable in actual combat, and without constant practice, it’s easily forgotten...’

As he calculated this, Turan reminded himself not to grow arrogant as he watched Ashiz struggling.

How could he dare be conceited after hearing about a peer who had similar talent, and even much stronger power than him?

"By the way, Turan, have you decided on the magic artifact you want?"

"Somewhat."

The first thing Turan had considered was a magic artifact imbued with the power of healing.

As someone with exceptional talent, he could learn and use most spells he desired through practice. However, healing abilities were almost impossible to use without being born with the right bloodline.

After vaguely understanding the principles of wound healing in the library, he had managed to heal minor scratches. But that level of power couldn't be used in actual combat.

The issue lay in the fact that half of his bloodline was still in a sealed state.

If the unawakened half of his bloodline turned out to be aligned with a healer's abilities, then obtaining a magic artifact for healing would be a waste.

Because of this, he was also considering choosing something more universally useful and unrelated to bloodline magic. However, he had yet to make a final decision.

Watching Turan deep in thought, Ashiz smirked.

"Take your time to think it over. You’ll stay at my family's estate to rest for a while after we arrive, right?"

"I won’t stay long. I’m still on a pilgrimage."

"Don’t be in such a rush. After all, we have plenty of time on our hands."

As Ashiz said, Turan still had centuries, perhaps even more than a thousand years, of life ahead of him.

Far across the road, ordinary humans passed by with their children, avoiding their gazes. Turan would live long enough to see not only those children but even their children’s children grow old and die...

Suddenly struck by the thought, Turan shook his head.

Why was it that this world offered so many things that could tempt him into arrogance?

* * *

Since leaving Hisaril Hill, Turan often found himself marveling at how the environment grew increasingly lush the further inland he traveled.

From dense forests to streams and rivers brimming with clear water, and vast plains covered in meadows where anything planted seemed ready to flourish.

To a young shepherd who had grown up on hills and wastelands where only sparse weeds grew between rocky slopes, this place felt like paradise.

But now, Turan realized that the "abundance" he had seen before was a mere illusion.

Golden wheat fields spreading so vast that even with noble eyesight, the end couldn't be seen...

The most astonishing thing was that they had been walking for half a day, and still, the fields showed no signs of ending.

The sheer amount of wheat here seemed enough to feed all the people of every city and village they had passed through, with plenty left over.

"It really might be, I hear people often get lost in those fields."

Ashiz shrugged his shoulders and said that in response to Turan's assessment.

This vast land was known as the Takein Plains.

After walking for fifteen days since leaving Maderi, though this distance would have taken ordinary humans one or two months, they finally arrived at the core domain of House Arabion.

At the center of the plains stood Morgen city, House Arabion’s stronghold, while scattered around the edges were satellite cities ruled by vassal families such as the House Berg.

The population living in this region was said to be in the millions, a scale so large it was difficult to even imagine.

Once they entered the Takein Plains, Ashiz no longer needed to ask for directions and was able to guide them straight to the House Berg’s territory, Zabilin, without stopping to question any travelers.

As the sun set, they arrived at the tightly shut gates of Zabilin. Ashiz banged loudly on the gate, prompting a voice from above to shout down.

"Curfew has already started! Come back tomorrow!"

"It’s me, Bin!"

"Young master Ashiz?"

The knight, who had been sitting atop the five-meter-high fortress wall enforcing the curfew, immediately jumped down upon hearing Ashiz’s voice.

"It really is you, young master! Have you already finished your pilgrimage? And where are the others...?"

"They’ve all departed for the celestial palace. I’ll explain the details later. For now, can we go inside and rest? Please let my parents know I’ve returned."

When asked about the whereabouts of his vassals, the bright and cheerful expression on Ashiz’s face darkened.

It was clear now that his exaggeratedly cheerful demeanor had been a way to bury his feelings of grief.

It would likely take Ashiz a very long time to truly overcome such emotions.

Perhaps, he might never overcome them for the rest of his life.

A moment later, the two arrived at the House Berg’s palace via the main road of Zabilin City.

Thanks to the message sent ahead of time, all the family members had come out to welcome Ashiz. The first to rush forward was a middle-aged woman dressed in an extravagant gown.

With her dark blonde hair and a striking resemblance to Ashiz, anyone could instantly tell that they were mother and son.

"Ashiz, my dear child! What on earth happened to you?"

"Mom!"

Turan was quietly shocked to see a forty-three-year-old man proudly calling out "Mom!" and throwing himself into her arms.

Of course, Ashiz looked like a young man in his twenties on the outside… but even taking that into account, the scene was quite jarring.

The woman was likely Midella Berg, the matriarch of the House Berg and Ashiz’s mother.

Behind her were a man who appeared to be her husband and a young man who looked slightly older than Ashiz - from what he had heard before, they must be his father and his older brother, the heir of the family.

"Ashiz, show some decorum. You should at least address her as ‘Mother’ properly."

"S-Sorry, Father."

Flinching at his father’s reprimand, Ashiz lowered his head, then quickly turned his gaze to Turan and gestured toward him.

"This is Turan, a new friend I made in the south. He risked his life to save me when I was on the brink of death. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have made it back alive."

"The pilgrimage shouldn’t have taken you to such dangerous places… What exactly happened?"

"We were attacked by Dark Elf necromancers."

Ashiz reported the detailed situation to his mother like a child who had been beaten.

He described the sudden ambush, the undead army’s attack, his subordinates dying around him, and how he had fainted in a life-threatening situation, only to wake up and find that Turan had already dealt with the enemies.

Hearing this, Lady Midella, the matriarch, became furious and practically exploded in rage.

"Dark Elves! Those filthy worms dared to target my child? I’ll march an army myself and tear them to shreds—"

"Calm yourself, Head. People are watching."

Even after barely calming down thanks to her husband's efforts, Midella's eyes were still bloodshot.

Even after she managed to regain her composure, thanks to her husband’s efforts, Midella’s eyes remained bloodshot with anger.

Compared to her fiery personality, Ashiz’s father seemed much calmer and more collected. He turned to Turan and asked a question.

"So, may I ask which family our benefactor belongs to?"

"That's difficult to say."

"Difficult?"

"Yes. To be frank, it would be more accurate to say I don't know well."

As always, Turan refrained from using the excuse that it was hard to disclose his background due to hostile houses.

The reason being that there weren't many currently hostile houses, though there might be houses with a history of past hostility.

Even Lug Baltas, the head of the House Baltas, had immediately considered Arabion and Zahar as possible candidates when hearing Turan’s story.

Thus, Turan had prepared an answer that was both honest yet not entirely revealing.

"I was born to a commoner mother, and I don’t know who my father is."

As Turan casually revealed what he had kept private until now, Ashiz, still nestled in his mother’s arms, looked visibly shocked.

"What? You never told me that!"

"It’s not exactly something worth bragging about."

In truth, Turan’s background was something that families with a strict sense of bloodline hierarchy might find rather distasteful.

No matter how much strength was valued in the wizarding world, to nobles, knights were mere guard dogs, and commoners were considered even lower.

However, as he had expected, the matriarch and patriarch of the Berg family didn’t show any signs of contempt. They simply exchanged slightly awkward glances with one another.

It was clear that Ashiz had grown up in a family where such parents had instilled in him a personality that allowed him to mingle freely with people of lower status.

Lady Midella, the matriarch, cleared her throat a few times before speaking, her voice steady and composed.

"I see, so that’s the situation. Very well, Turan, who does not know his family. Since you saved a treasure of our household, as the head of House Berg, it is only right that I repay you. However, offering you a room in our home is difficult. Instead, I will arrange for you to stay at the finest inn in the city, though it won’t be at the main estate-"

"What are you saying! Mo-Mother! How can we not host our benefactor who saved me in our home?"

Seeing Ashiz, boldly interrupting the matriarch’s words, caused his father to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, as if too tired to scold his reckless son yet again.

Lady Midella, now wearing a stern expression, quelled her son’s outburst before continuing.

"Under normal circumstances, it would be fine. But at the moment, we have an esteemed guest staying in our home. No matter how much of a benefactor they may be, it is difficult to host a guest of unknown background within the estate. I hope you can understand."

"If it’s because of me, there’s no need to be so cautious, Aunt. I doubt someone who saved Ashiz’s life would suddenly attempt to assassinate me."

It was a woman whose age was impossible to guess at first glance.

The moment Turan saw her, a single thought came to his mind: a skeleton.

Her face was hollow, with sunken eyes and cheeks that looked as though they had no flesh, only skin stretched tightly over bone.

Her neck, arms, torso, and legs were all so thin that they seemed as though they might snap under the weight of her own body.

How little food must a person eat to end up so emaciated?

"Meisa? What are you doing here all of a sudden?"

Ashiz asked in surprise.

At that, Turan realized she must be Meisa Arabion, the princess of Arabion he had heard about not long ago.

But…

‘Rather than calling her a princess, calling her a corpse would seem more fitting.’

Truly, if she had been lying down with her eyes closed, no one would have doubted that she was dead.

While Turan entertained such impolite thoughts, Meisa Arabion calmly answered Ashiz’s question in a tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather.

"I almost got assassinated by those Zahar bastards recently. So I came here for refuge."