Chapter 189: Departure

The dwarf's anecdotes were, in a sense, nothing but a joke.

Or perhaps they were a profession-based joke from another world, similar to the grim humor of pediatric medicine—endless overtime and hopeless low pay—or the grim "anecdotes" of proctology.

Just as medical students and doctors often tell medical jokes, so too do spellcasters tell these mage jokes.

There are subtle hierarchies of disdain, some self-mockery, and some helplessness.

"In truth, we're all much the same."

These compatibility anecdotes among mages are also akin to occupational diseases; sometimes, cause and effect are reversed.

Spellcraft demands caution and precision; spatial coordinates and pacts with otherworldly beings must have not the slightest flaw—not even a misused word, a faulty description, a misplaced punctuation mark, or an incorrect digit. One mistake means death! And worse: your soul dragged into another world, eternally enslaved.

This system has an astonishingly high mortality rate; whether dealing with otherworldly beings or spatial teleportation, even the tiniest error means instant death.

Within it, there are countless jokes about "apprentices miscounting a glyph" or "high masters forgetting a character" and killing themselves.

Life is the price of error; spellcraft mages must be meticulous and cautious, even developing various obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

To ensure no mistake, they often impose overly rigid procedures, carrying all manner of measuring tools, spellbooks, and reference texts—though if you're talented and cunning enough, you can bypass all rules, even delight in manipulating them.

This is why spellcraft mages are so sharply polarized: either obsessively rigid or recklessly casual.

By the way, many law knights with spellcraft abilities are also obsessively rigid—in a sense, Larry is quite suitable.

Evocation is the art of manipulating elements; its practitioners inevitably assimilate with the elements, their bodies and even souls merging with them. High-rank evokers even possess the innate talent to transform into elements themselves—they inevitably inherit the elements' tempers. Given the high prevalence of fire spells, a fiery temper naturally becomes the evoker's defining trait.

Hmm, lightning elements aren't much better, and ice and water elements are quite cold-hearted. In truth, elemental beings and elemental essences are profoundly inhuman.

They are the fundamental elements composing the world; if they were truly human-like, it might not be a good thing.

By the way, paladins incarnated as Holy Smite (evocation) are also quite short-tempered, since the "Radiant Element" not only despises negative energy and evil, but also contains fire.

Alteration, especially alchemy, requires time, years, and luck. Stay alone too long in the lab, and you naturally go mad.

In fact, all supernatural professions and bloodlines suffer this problem.

The Hero profession grants heroes fearless courage, yet also makes them revel in the thrill of dancing with death. Walk by the river too often, and you'll eventually fall in.

This is, in a sense, an occupational disease—a cost of power. These things can even seep into the soul, permanently altering an individual.

"To change something, to gain something, you must pay something. It's fair, isn't it?"

The serpent had slithered out unnoticed, watching Li En and the little one's interaction with interest.

Over these days, Li En's greatest gain was probably spending several good days with Little Laina.

And the rather "clumsy" Li En naturally took Little Laina to practice swordplay—or rather, rekindled his old bodily memories.

There was no help for it; she seemed to view swordplay as a pastime and play, often dragging Li En along (Laina: The dwarf uncle is so clumsy, not fun). And with the revival of bodily instinct, the genuine excitement and joy she felt in combat could not be hidden.

She loved the sword, loved the killing between them, loved the taste of life and death on the edge.

"Her progress is simply too fast."

Each practice session, though the little one exhausted her strength rapidly, still showed clear improvement.

Faster, more accurate, and far more cunning—Li En rarely described a swordsman's skill as "cunning."

But this sword art, with every strike layered with feints and transformations, constantly shifting to encircle the opponent, was indeed exceedingly cunning.

She didn't need much strength; instead, she needed quicker movements and sharper eyes.

"Greedy! Too greedy! Such an obvious opening, and you dare to charge right in…"

Li En forced Laina back with a single strike, watching her balance shattered by brute force—ready to deliver a finishing blow. He had intended to scold her for her greed.

He had deliberately left an opening; she not only seized it instantly, but tried to kill him on the spot.

But the next moment, he hesitated.

From Laina's perspective, such greed and cunning weren't wrong. To defeat a stronger opponent as a weaker one, how else could you risk it?

Sometimes, even knowing it's a trap, you must step into it—wagering your life to gamble on a desperate reversal.

Or perhaps, this is courage. This is the Hero. Even with vanishingly low odds, even when facing overwhelming strength, you still stake everything, grasping every possible chance for victory.

"You need more foundational training and physical conditioning." In the end, Li En did not stop Laina's fighting style. He could not determine who was right—or rather, both were right.

Li En's swordsmanship came from Su Er, following the straightforward "knightly path": direct, head-on combat, seeing who dies first.

Thicker armor, heavier swords, even recovery abilities and battlefield ambush skills.

Straightforward, overwhelming pressure was Li En's path to victory.

But Laina had placed herself as the weak one from the start, instinctively avoiding the opponent's strength, then concentrating all power to seize the enemy's mistakes and weaknesses, forcing a reversal—this was a sword art specifically designed from the outset against powerful foes and giants!

High risk, high reward? No—it was sacrificing everything for one strike to kill a mighty opponent.

This combat logic and sword instinct was far too abnormal. Li En thought she'd die young—though perhaps the Hero's equipment and class abilities could somewhat compensate for these flaws.

In the end, Li En did not stop her, nor did he teach her knightly swordsmanship, because he simply couldn't.

She had already made it her instinct. Even if her memories and powers were erased, her body and soul still seemed to remember.

Even if she switched paths, she'd become a grotesque hybrid—and likely die quickly.

"Perhaps I should find myself another sword."

Li En looked at the Hero's Sword and sighed—he even felt the sword's longing. Perhaps its former owner suited it better.

It didn't matter much; Li En's own use of the sword was mediocre. Aside from saving maintenance costs and not worrying about it breaking, it was just a plain weapon.

Perhaps a magic sword with radiant and fire-boosting properties would suit Li En better.

"My lord, I've nearly recovered."

The centaur knight of the adventuring party delivered good news to Li En.

This meant the first underground ruin exploration could begin—Li En could finally test his codex's main quest against the "Underground Demigod."

But he did not follow the adventuring party alone; this journey, he added several companions.

"Will leaving be a problem?"

"No, not within a week. I need to learn about the underground ruins and train myself." Dimon was in high spirits—he could finally move again.

The improved Dimon needed to map the underground ruins to prepare for the Weaver Knight's trials, and needed to verify his own progress.

"I'm doing well too—my shop is open, perfect for gathering materials." Vittoria's words were half-truths; she understood her freedom depended on Li En and wanted to know him better.

"I need real combat! Simulations aren't enough." And the long-absent automaton Ophelia had also come along.

Li En considered it, then finally spoke.

"Laina, come too. Give you a chance to practice and collect your evolution materials."

Li En brought along the little one, who instantly beamed with joy.

A lion is not a cat—it needs a hunting ground to grow. Kept at home, it will wither.

But at that moment, the serpent suddenly appeared on Li En's shoulder.

"Heh, I've only a few days left." Calculating the time, perhaps four or five days. Without an incarnation state record, Li En wasn't sure he'd depart on schedule.

"Wonderful! I say, what a pity." Though he didn't know what the serpent had been doing these days, its departure filled Li En with genuine relief.

If the serpent left now, Li En would even pay for a farewell banquet!

"You must fulfill our agreement before I depart. Otherwise…" the serpent's smile was cold. "Shall I tell you what happens to those who break their pact with me?" The serpent was never a fervent warmonger—he preferred contracts and agreements.

He and Li En still had a contract nearing expiration. If the serpent vanished, the contract could not be fulfilled. The true core of this agreement was for the serpent to witness the "entertainment" he desired.

The serpent's narrow slit eyes brimmed with delight and anticipation.

He had never forgotten the pact, and knew Li En was trying to delay—the wine needed time to age; the more rushed the man, the more splendid the entertainment.

"Hehe, stories of gods who perished or went mad due to broken pacts and unfulfilled promises? Those are classic serpent tales. Shall I tell you one?"

(End of Chapter)