Chapter 628 - 535: Destiny’s Turning Point

Chapter 628: Chapter 535: Destiny’s Turning Point

"*Mason’s Travelogue: Records of Strange Lands*..."

Roland murmured the title under his breath. 𝖋𝘳ℯ

Allen Collins...

Vanessa...

The first was the ancestor of his close friend Dalko, while the second was a mysterious figure with whom his fate had intertwined in the "future" timeline.

Now, yet another familiar name had appeared in this way, plucking at the string of "coincidence" in his mind once more.

He lifted his gaze to the young Witch, who was carefully turning the heavy pages, and asked, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible inquiry.

"The author of this book is someone named Mason? Do you know anything about him? Have you ever... met him in person?"

Vanessa’s attention seemed to have been completely captured by the book’s contents. She answered subconsciously without looking up.

"Yes, that’s right, Mr. Rudolph. This book... and several other journals my teacher treasures, are all said to have been personally written by Mr. Mason, or at least compiled and transcribed from manuscripts he left behind."

She continued speaking as she gently traced the fine, ink-drawn patterns on the page with her fingertip.

"As for what kind of person he is..."

The Apprentice Witch finally looked up. As she spoke his name, the previous awkwardness and shyness in her violet eyes were replaced by a pure, fervent reverence, as if they had been instantly lit up.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Rudolph, I’ve never met Mr. Mason in person. He’s a great explorer whose whereabouts are unknown, his footprints covering the continent and even spanning distant oceans. It’s said that he hasn’t made a public appearance in the central hubs of the civilized world for many years."

Her speech quickened unconsciously, filled with the excitement unique to a young person talking about their idol.

"But his reputation is incredible! Even my teacher, who almost never leaves her home, speaks of Mr. Mason with the utmost respect."

"My teacher says Mr. Mason might be the most erudite, daring, and insightful traveler and chronicler of this age. He doesn’t belong to any Mage Tower or Divine Hall, yet he possesses an astonishing understanding of magical phenomena, lost ruins, Alien Race cultures, and even a great deal of long-forgotten ancient knowledge."

Vanessa’s gaze swept over the heavy travelogue on the workbench as if she were staring at a Sacred Artifact.

"His travelogues and notes aren’t like those boastful adventure stories. They are extremely detailed, objective, and even possess a kind of... calm poetry."

"They record so many incredible sights and nearly lost pieces of knowledge. Many alchemy formulas, herbal Traits, and even preliminary analyses of certain supernatural phenomena were things I first read about in his books. Even for some of the advanced topics my teacher assigns, I often need to reference Mr. Mason’s records."

She tilted her head slightly, as if recalling her teacher’s words.

"Some say he’s a reclusive great scholar, others that he’s a Caster of unfathomable Power, and there are even rumors he holds the secret map to the Lost Realm... But no matter what, in the intellectual circles of many large northern cities, Mr. Mason’s name is practically synonymous with ’Legendary Adventurer’ and ’Living Historical Treasury’."

Listening to Vanessa’s reverent description, an image gradually took shape in Roland’s mind.

An erudite, mysterious observer and chronicler walking the edges of the world.

This was completely different from the shy, reserved young nobleman he remembered.

But when they had parted ways, he had indeed heard that the other boy harbored ambitions of traveling the continent.

’Is this another one of fate’s mischievous coincidences, or a sign of some deeper connection?’

’If this renowned great Adventurer, Mason, is truly the same person as the close friend from my memories...’

’And if, like me, he was sent back to this "past" Space-Time by Phaethon, anchored by ’bonds,’ does that mean...’

’That the point in time each companion was sent back to might not be the same?’

Roland stared at the old book cover, his mind a torrent of thoughts. In the end, he was silent for a moment before whispering almost inaudibly.

"...I see."

While Roland and Vanessa were talking, Ellis had already given the room a quick scan.

His sharp gaze swept over the piles of books, gleaming jars, and complex apparatuses.

Relying on the discernment honed by his academy training, he made a preliminary judgment: the room was cluttered but held no obvious malicious arrangements or dangerous Energy traps.

Once he confirmed this, he took a seat on a relatively sturdy wooden crate by the wall.

However, his brow couldn’t help but furrow slightly as he looked at the scattered stems and unknown powders on the floor.

Allen, who had entered last, saw that Vanessa was completely absorbed in the heavy travelogue and her subsequent preparations. He opened his mouth to say something several times but ultimately swallowed his words.

He stood quietly in the shadows not far from the door, his azure eyes fixed on the busy Witch, deciding to wait until she had finished helping her savior before speaking.

As for Holland...

The former Priest was making himself right at home.

His large frame seemed a bit cramped in the less-than-spacious room, but that didn’t stop him from looking this way and that.

His rough fingers restlessly fiddled and toyed with anything within reach that didn’t look too "dangerous."

The edge of a strangely carved wooden box, a hanging bundle of dried silver moss, and even a glass orb on a low shelf, inside which a purple mist slowly swirled.

After a moment, he seemed unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He stopped what he was doing and turned to Vanessa, his tone full of undisguised confusion.

"Hey, little lady, you just... said you’re a Witch?"

At the sound of his voice, Vanessa looked up at Holland’s towering frame—large enough to block half the lamplight—and his inquisitive eyes. The tension that had faded while she was focused on her work came creeping back.

She instinctively shrank back, answering in a quiet but clear voice.

"I-I’m an Apprentice Witch, sir. I... I haven’t passed my teacher’s final test yet, so... I can’t be considered an official Witch."

She paused, her eyes catching sight of the purple-misted orb Holland was still unconsciously toying with. A look of mixed heartache and anxiety instantly appeared on her face.

But due to her timid nature, she hesitated and struggled for a good while before finally speaking in a tone that was as polite as possible, yet unable to hide a slight tremor.

"A-Also... sir, could you please... not move things around the room?"

"Alright, alright..."

Holland put down the glass orb with a bored expression and clapped his hands together, his curiosity clearly unsatisfied.

He looked around, his gaze sweeping from the piled Scrolls to the bundles of herbs in the corner, from the instruments on the workbench to the strange, dried creature specimens hanging from the ceiling. Then, stroking the stubble on his chin, he continued his questioning.

"I’m just a little puzzled. As far as I know, Witches... or, let’s say, most folks who call themselves Witches and can pull off some supernatural tricks, usually have to gain Power by believing in and worshipping some Deity. Or at the very least, they have to be connected to some... hmm, ’higher being.’"

He scanned his surroundings again, even standing on his toes to glance at the top of the highest shelf.

"But... I don’t seem to see any shrines, Holy Emblems, altars, or anything else related to Gods around here, do I?"

Hearing this, a complex emotion flickered in Vanessa’s violet eyes.

There was the nervousness of being asked a core question, mixed with a faint resignation born from long familiarity with it.

She set down her quill, gently smoothed the page of the book, and spoke in a voice even softer than before, yet imbued with a candid calm.

"Because... I’m currently unable to clearly perceive the ’call’ of any Deities, sir."

"According to ancient tradition, a soul that has not been touched by the voice of the Deities naturally... has no right to claim their protection or borrow their Power."

Her gaze returned to the instruments on her workbench, vessels of knowledge and natural creation, as she added in a low voice.

"My path... is perhaps a little different from most of my peers described in books."

Hearing this, Holland raised a thick eyebrow and pressed on curiously.

"So whose door are you ’knocking’ on now? You must have a specific name in mind, right?"

Vanessa took a deep breath, as if speaking the name itself required courage and Concentration.

"I... have been trying to perceive and call for the favor of the ’Mysterious Lady.’"

"My teacher said she presides over the web of Magic and secret knowledge. To followers who seek the essence of knowledge and mystery, she sometimes grants inspiration..."

Her voice held a hint of barely perceptible longing.

"The Mysterious Lady, huh..."

Holland stroked the stubble on his chin, looking thoughtful.

"She’s a real ’big shot,’ alright. How long have you been knocking?"

"Since I officially began studying with my teacher and trying to establish a deep state of Meditation... about four years."

Vanessa’s voice trailed off, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her robe.

"Four years?"

Holland let out a whistle and shook his head.

"Kiddo, four years is long enough for a True God to glance your way a few hundred times. Since the ’Mysterious Lady’ hasn’t given you a single sign in all that time, why don’t you try switching to someone else?"

"S-Switch to someone else?"

Vanessa was taken aback, her violet eyes filled with confusion, as if she had never even considered the option.

"Yeah!"

Holland spread his hands, a ’what’s-the-big-deal’ look on his face, and began listing them off as if he knew them all by heart.

"Like the Lord of Dawn, Lodestar? He represents Hope and rebirth, has a pretty good reputation, and is generous to his followers. Or the King of Knowledge, Ogma? He’d be a good match for this room full of books and notes."

"If not him... how about the God of Forging and Craftsmanship, Gund? He might not be the most obvious fit for a Witch, but the creativity and ingenious ideas he grants his followers are genuinely useful."

He paused, looking at Vanessa’s somewhat stunned expression, and even lowered his voice with a coaxing, teasing tone.

"If all else fails... and if you’re brave enough, you could try contacting the Lady of the Night, Shire, or the Spider Queen, Rose. Trust me, even though their reputations are... uh, a little scary, they’re famous for ’refusing no one who comes knocking,’ especially talented ones. They respond very quickly!"

"Switch Gods? To be so... fickle, how could one ever receive true protection and acknowledgment?"

Vanessa’s cheeks flushed red with agitation and a sense of violated faith, and her voice rose slightly.

"Faith should be focused and devout! Casually switching allegiances is disrespectful to the Gods!"

"No, no, no, kiddo. You’ve got it all wrong."

Holland wagged a thick finger, a worldly-wise, almost mocking expression on his face.

"Believe me, I’ve ’seen’ the Gods on some... special occasions. Or rather, I’ve felt the projection of their will."

"They may be great, but they’re not incomprehensible. A lot of the time, they’re no different in essence from a shrewd Merchant or a powerful Lord. What you call faith and worship is more like a transaction. They grant you Power, knowledge, or protection, and you repay them with faith, servitude, or by carrying out their will. It’s that simple."

He leaned forward, looking straight at Vanessa.

"So, since this ’Mysterious Lady’ you’ve chosen has ignored you for four years, the deal obviously isn’t happening. Why not switch to a different potential partner?"

"A god who doesn’t answer you—what’s the difference between them and a rock on the side of the road? It’s just a waste of time and hope."

The potion shop fell silent, the only sound an occasional, faint POP from a test tube in some corner.

Ellis had already buried his face in his hand, a headache coming on from Holland’s overly "pragmatic," if not downright blasphemous, remarks.

Allen’s azure eyes were wide, clearly having never heard anyone speak about the Gods in such a way.

Roland merely watched in silence, his gaze shifting slowly between Holland and Vanessa.

Finally, deep within the Apprentice Witch’s violet eyes, he clearly caught a subtle, minuscule trace of something that had been pried loose by those sharp words...

Doubt.