CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61: THE OCEAN

According to what Ryan knew, the continent of Eksnel wasn’t very large—even smaller than the current territory of the Flore Empire.

Yet this continent once had kingdoms.

However, in the City of the Forge, Ryan hadn’t heard of any reigning king or even royal family. The remaining nobles of those kingdoms were few and marginal—just a couple of barons.

Duke Moriarty was now the highest-ranking noble in the City of the Forge. He, along with the Mage Academy, oversaw the city—though likely more as a steward on behalf of the high mages.

After all, in Eksnel, magic had become the only remaining transcendent path for nobles. And as supply dwindled, mages had become all the more exalted.

A classic case of supply and demand shaping societal hierarchy.

As night fell, Ryan decided—after careful thought—to leave Harrington behind in the City of the Forge to gather intelligence. He then returned to the Frozen Wastes with Brand.

Crossing the dimensional gate again wouldn’t guarantee reappearing in the city, but it would always be nearby. Ryan had started to understand how his "golden finger" worked—it wasn’t without its quirks.

So there was no need to worry about leaving Harrington alone. Ryan could just pop in every few days to check in.

Development in the Frozen Wastes continued steadily. In fact, the first batch of terraced fields now had wheat growing tall and strong.

The responsible family—the Baines—instantly drew envy from across the domain.

If Ryan’s earlier "big promises" had caused a mental rush, then the reality of Baines’ success marked a clear class divide—between them and the rest of the common folk.

And jealousy naturally followed.

Ryan had cleverly assigned the Baines family to transport stone around the territory, deliberately placing them in the public eye. Each time they appeared, it reignited everyone’s drive to work harder.

Zero-cost motivation—simple, but effective.

A few days later, Ryan opened the dimensional gate again. This time, he didn’t appear directly inside the city, but on a snowy, muddy expanse about a kilometer south of it. That confirmed the gate’s margin of error.

He could still see the City of the Forge in the distance—likely the last bastion of civilization on the continent of Eksnel.

But instead of heading north, Ryan turned south—and smelled the rich scent of salt and sea air wafting on the wind.

"The ocean..."

No matter how many times one saw it, the vast, endless sea always evoked awe. Especially for Ryan—it was his first time seeing a frozen ocean.

He’d seen endless blues before. But never the glacial whites of icy seas.

The memories of traveling the world through a screen were now replaced with the sight of a frost-veiled ocean, so ethereal it seemed like heaven on earth.

"Is that... the sea?" Brand stood still, eyes filled with wonder.

The people of Eksnel were once known for their freedom and thirst for exploration. In countless stories and tavern tales, the ocean featured often. Every boy who grew up hearing those stories dreamed of one day entering them.

"It is the sea," Ryan replied. "But not the sea we imagined."

"The western coast of the Empire is called the ’Bathing Place of the Spirits.’ Someday, we’ll go see it ourselves."

He continued forward, having noticed people out on the ice. They were fishing, it seemed.

The ice sheet formed a crescent-shaped lake near the shoreline.

"That’s the Crescent Lake, created over a century ago by the city’s high mages with forbidden magic to melt the glacier,"

a commoner near the shore explained when Ryan, in noble garb, inquired.

"It has fed the City of the Forge for generations..."

"...And claimed the lives of countless slaves."

Ryan gazed out at the "lake" atop the glacier—not waves, but layers of interlocking ice shards, crashing into one another.

The shards were prism-shaped, about as thick as a finger, forming a unique, churning surface across the lake.

"Ice shove..." Ryan murmured, impressed.

The high mages had, through sheer magical might, created a natural wonder—and a lifeline.

But this wonder was more than spectacle—it was vital. Over 60% of the city’s food came from this very lake and its ice-driven currents.

That said, after a century, fish stocks were dwindling fast.

These days, for every haul of a hundred, ninety-nine were ice. The rest were tiny fish, barely the size of a palm.

Which forced the city’s nobles to start expanding northward into the Frozen Wastes to grow crops—but this year, their fields were pillaged by cultists.

Ryan stood by the sea for two hours. The passing commoners and slaves were stunned—a noble, just standing there?

But they didn’t dare disturb him, only gave him a wide berth.

Eventually, Ryan turned back toward the city.

"They won’t have enough food,"

he muttered.

From two hours of observation, it was clear: the Crescent Lake no longer had enough fish to sustain the city. Despite its mystique, the lake wasn’t connected to the true sea.

The mages had only melted the surface ice—they couldn’t access the ocean’s depths.

So this "lake" was no more than an isolated basin, like any landlocked lake—cut off from the bounty of the true sea.

Entering the city from the south was much easier than the north, as many fisherfolk came and went daily. The guards were used to the traffic.

Back at his estate, Ryan was greeted by Rimehart, who had brought in a new batch of maids.

"Young Master Ryan."

Rimehart hadn’t been idle these days—he’d been investigating the city.

And he brought crucial news:

"The City of the Forge has no grain reserves."

Rimehart spoke nervously:

"I snuck into several granaries. They were completely empty."

"What little food remains is kept within the noble estates and the three mage towers—along with the Mage Academy. I didn’t dare sneak into the towers or the Academy, but I did search the noble estates. They don’t have much either. Combined, I estimate they can sustain the city for only two more months."

"And even then—they’re not going to share it all, are they?"

Ryan nodded grimly. He’d decided to stay for a while, to get a deeper understanding of the situation.

He glanced at his spiritual balance—still generous. Spending double the normal spirit cost would allow him to remain here longer.

Technically, he didn’t have to burn spirit to stay. But doing so meant he would lose his anchor, and if he opened the dimensional gate again from here, there was no guarantee he’d return to the Frozen Wastes.

Better to play it safe. Even if it meant wasting some spiritual energy.