Glenn could feel the old mage’s sorrow, and the weight of it stirred a quiet sigh within him.

  So it seems I was being na?ve… he reflected.

  Perhaps it was the influence of those countless stories from his previous life—tales that insisted one must endure relentless hardship to attain true strength.

  But reality was far less romantic. Not everyone reached the peak they dreamed of; most simply faded into mediocrity, discarded by a cruel world.

  He did not know whether Da'off’s choice was right or wrong, but at this moment, Glenn stood firmly on his teacher’s side.

  “Perhaps you are the one who has chosen correctly. To you, these apprentices are like family—like your own children. Allowing them to be harmed would be unbearable.”

  His words were both support and affirmation.

  Hearing this, Da'off’s wrinkled face blossomed into a smile. “You are part of our family as well, Glenn.”

  Their conversation stretched into midday, mingling guidance with lighthearted topics.

  Lunch had even been specially adjusted to accommodate Glenn’s schedule, shifting to that of an ordinary person.

  In the days he lived within the mage’s home, Glenn never saw anything resembling a formal classroom shared by teacher and students.

  This place felt far more like a warm, bustling family.

  The younger apprentices would bicker and play; chaos was inevitable.

  Da'off and Meco naturally took on the roles of father and mother.

  When the children cried or quarreled, Da'off scolded like a stern patriarch, while Meco soothed the wronged little ones like a gentle mother.

  When both were absent, Lucas acted as the responsible eldest brother, managing the others.

  Glenn, of course, was an exception—older in spirit than Lucas, and still something of a stranger to the others.

  During lunch, two apprentices barely eight or nine began to argue over something trivial. Da'off tapped his staff against the table, and the quarrel ceased instantly.

  After the meal, Da'off told Glenn to rest for a short while before taking him into a special laboratory.

  “You already have a firm grasp of the fundamentals,” Da'off explained. “It’s time to teach you the basics of crafting magical tools and enchantments.”

  Glenn nodded eagerly.

  “First, you must understand the most essential principle of crafting. Any magical material can influence ordinary objects—but certain rare materials can entirely negate the effects of others…”

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  As he listened intently, Glenn’s eyes followed Da'off’s hands as he pointed from ingredient to ingredient.

  They remained in the lab until late into the night.

  Glenn’s enthusiasm had not waned. Under Da'off’s guidance, he succeeded in crafting several simple magical items.

  A thought echoed through his mind:

  If I master this art, then one day I could combine modern machinery with magic! The idea alone was thrilling.

  Back in his room, Glenn lay in bed, unable to sleep as his imagination ran wild with new concepts and designs.

  This felt like the doorway to an entirely new world.

  After tossing and turning for ages, he reminded himself that he needed rest for the next day’s lessons.

  So he began meditative sleep.

  Da'off had once explained that prolonged meditation naturally transitions into deep slumber—an ideal cure for insomnia.

  Once again came that sensation of his soul drifting free from his body. The movements of elemental particles unfolded around him like shimmering patterns across his mental vision.

  Glenn admired the strange, beautiful scene as his mind slowly quieted, waiting for sleep to overtake him.

  “Mother… Mother…”

  “Mother, you haven’t come back yet…”

  “Mother will be back soon…”

  Faint whispers brushed against his dimming consciousness.

  He tried to ignore them, but the voices lingered, refusing to fade.

  His focus sharpened. Still in meditation, he tried to identify the source. The voices were incredibly faint—directionless.

  Adjusting his perceptual “view,” he finally spotted an anomalously trembling thread of gray in the elemental sea.

  The sound was coming from that strange gray element.

  He attempted to disturb it using his magic.

  But to his astonishment, his power could not move it at all—not by the slightest fraction.

  It was like trying to bend a steel wire with a breath of air.

  Impossible.

  He could interfere—even minimally—with any other element. But this… this was immovable.

  His curiosity flared, dampening even the lingering excitement from his earlier discoveries.

  Glenn kept trying, over and over, attempting to evoke even the smallest response from the gray thread.

  But it was futile.

  Just as he sighed in defeat, deciding to consult his teacher tomorrow—

  He noticed he could see his own translucent arm.

  My soul?! The thought flashed instantly through his mind.

  He bent down to look—his lower half trailed away like a wisp of white smoke, extending into endless distance.

  “So it really is my soul?!” he exclaimed in amazement.

  The transformation was sudden. During previous meditations, he had only ever experienced a single point of view. Now he had an entire spiritual form.

  He hurried to confirm that his physical body still existed—and upon sensing it, he breathed a sigh of relief. This meant he could return at any moment.

  After wandering a bit, he returned to the gray element.

  He reached out his spectral right hand and touched it lightly.

  He suspected this element was responsible for his current transformation.

  Nothing unusual happened from the initial touch.

  So he grasped it firmly, attempting to interfere through spiritual force.

  The moment he closed his hand around it, the once faint voice became suddenly, startlingly clear.

  The brief touch before had been too short to reveal this.

  It was a childish voice—far younger than an infant’s—like a tiny, fragile life murmuring:

  “Mother will come back soon… Mother will be back soon… Why isn’t Mother back yet…”

  “Who are you?” Glenn asked, unsure whether it could hear him.

  To his surprise, the response was immediate—and frantic:

  “Mother! Mother, where are you?!”

  A few black lines slid down Glenn’s metaphorical forehead.

  “I am not your mother,” he replied stiffly.

  The voice fell quiet again. “So you’re not Mother…”

  Definitely a left-behind child… Glenn thought helplessly.

  He tried again. “You still haven’t told me—who are you?”

  “Who am I?” The voice seemed to ponder for a moment, then responded with bright excitement. “I’m Dodoa! Princess Dodoa! Mother says I’m the most beautiful princess in the world!”

  “…Ah.”

  Glenn immediately realized something was wrong. This child’s mental state was clearly… unstable.