Chapter 92: Name

  "Aren't you coming with me to the Tulalion Forest?" Luya frowned at Ethan, her disappointment and surprise written plainly on her face like a child's.

  Ethan patted her head and said with a wry smile, "I have urgent business to attend to back in the capital. Besides, you've met Lord Sedros. He's a good friend of your elves. General Gru will surely get you there safely."

  Luya said "Oh," looked at the tall, slender, seemingly human man beside her, and nodded.

  "You're entrusting the Leaves of the World Tree and her to me just like this. Are you sure?" General Gru looked at Ethan and asked coolly. His sculpted, coldly handsome face always carried an understated authority.

  Ethan smiled and said, "I honestly can't think of a safer bodyguard than you."

  Gru said coolly, "Bodyguard? Do you know what's most important for a bodyguard?"

  "What is it?"

  "Trust." A flicker of light passed through General Gru's eyes. "This is a divine artifact everyone dreams of. Using it on you last time was a last resort. Our personal relationship doesn't seem good enough for this level of trust. Let me be clear: I only happened to kill two Necromancers while passing through here on my way to see the Dwarf King. I didn't intend to specifically help you. Do you trust me so easily?"

  Ethan smiled and said, "If you really wanted it, you could just take it by force. It seems we wouldn't have much choice. Besides, I feel you wouldn't do that."

  "A feeling? Can't you use your head to judge?" General Gru still looked at him coldly. "Even if I personally have no interest, perhaps Sedros would. He's a mage. Even if neither of us is interested, such a magical artifact might be useful to Oufu. Then, even if we weren't interested, we'd have to be. Even so, do you still trust me?"

  Ethan frowned, thought for a moment, sighed, looked into General Gru's dark, calm eyes, and smiled, "I trust you. Because besides trusting you, I have no other choice."

  Gru didn't speak further, just looked coldly at Ethan. His dark eyes showed no trace of emotion, like a pool of solidified ink.

  After a long while, that sculpted face finally showed a ripple. Though it seemed tinged with mockery, the corners of his thin lips curved slightly upward, and his dark eyes narrowed slightly. He took a teleportation scroll from his robe and handed it to Ethan. "This is a scroll for the capital's teleportation array. Originally, your emperor gave it to Oufu's emissaries for our convenience. If you're in a hurry, use this."

  "This couldn't have come at a better time. I was worried I wouldn't make it in time. Now I will." Ethan accepted the scroll with immense joy.

  "Hey, hey." Luya stood behind Ethan and tugged his hand. "Look, even the man himself says he can't be trusted. Why do you still trust him?"

  "Heh, trust is purely a feeling. Because I've crossed blades with him, I can sense he's not that kind of person."

  "So you trust me so much just because I once nearly killed you?" General Gru looked at him, the faint smile on his face deepening.

  "Yes. Hahahaha..." Ethan laughed heartily. Holding the teleportation scroll, he looked up at the gray sky over the basin. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

  In the meeting hall of Diya Valley. Two Necromancers supported Master Aiden, who was barely breathing. He had been found lying in a teleportation magic circle. His entire right arm and half his shoulder were completely gone, with a thick, deep wound below his right ribs.

  Pure white magic light glowed around Master Aiden. Under the dual effects of the high-level white healing magics "Rebirth in Flames" and "Divine Grace," his ashen face finally regained a trace of life.

  "This isn't damage caused by magic, nor can any weapon be identified. If this wound had been shifted even slightly to the left, he definitely wouldn't have returned." A Necromancer carefully examined Master Aiden's wounds. The bleeding had completely stopped, and new flesh buds were already beginning to heal the wounds. To receive treatment from two nearly top-tier white healing magics, apart from being beside the Pope, only Diya Valley could provide it.

  "Only he returned?" A Necromancer asked, coughing. Due to a rare gathering, most Necromancers hadn't left Diya Valley yet after the meeting. If those two members skilled in healing magic had left, Master Aiden would have had no choice but death.

  "Only him. We don't know what happened to Asri..."

  "Asri is dead." Master Aiden laboriously opened his eyes and said weakly. "We intercepted the boy together in Kalendor. But he had a helper who appeared out of nowhere and ambushed Asri from behind, killing him..."

  "What?" "What kind of person?" The Necromancers were astonished.

  "I don't know what kind of person. I didn't see him." Master Aiden struggled greatly to say those few words. Two of the era's top mages, members of the Necromancer Guild—one killed, the other escaping with half a life—yet they hadn't even seen their opponent. It was simply absurd.

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  But none of the Necromancers laughed. They knew each other's strength well. The atmosphere in the meeting hall was unprecedentedly heavy. This was a group who considered themselves standing at the world's peak, yet they discovered someone could deal with them like crushing insects.

  "What about that fellow Inham?" Master Aiden scanned his colleagues present. "Only he knows that boy. That helper and the boy coordinated perfectly; they must know each other. Why has he never mentioned it? That fellow has hidden too much from us." Saying so much in one breath, Master Aiden took a few gasps.

  "He has gone to kill Ronis." A Necromancer said coolly.

  "Alone?" The emotional turmoil nearly made Master Aiden faint. Ronis had been a master of white and air magic twenty years ago, widely recognized as the foremost mage in the Church. And there was also the former acting guild master, Sandro. With these two joining forces, it would likely take everyone here acting together to have absolute certainty.

  "Of course, we also made preparations for him regarding the Church and other aspects." The Necromancer supporting Master Aiden cast another temporary physical enhancement spell on him. "Although we don't know the specifics of his plan, Inham probably wouldn't do something without confidence."

  "Sigh, so much turmoil and change has happened during this time." The old Necromancer coughed hard, his pained expression making one think he might cough up a lung. "I truly miss the times when Sandro and Agrael were still here." After a long while, he adjusted his breathing and said slowly, "Perhaps we should elect an acting guild master."

  Master Aiden's expression turned extremely ugly, not just because of his injuries. He knew this position likely wouldn't fall to him.

  Ethan ran with large strides, trampling the soft black earth. He breathed deeply the air filled with the smell of coke and molten iron. He listened to the sounds of hammering and the shouts of dwarves in taverns. He had never felt this air was so wonderful, never felt the hazy sky above was so beautiful. This was the air he had breathed for twenty years, under the sky he had lived under for twenty years. Under such a sky, in such air, it seemed no magical fluctuation could occur, no conspiracy could take root in people's hearts. Everything here was so peaceful.

  He ran for a good half-day from the basin's outskirts and finally returned to the poor, shabby village. Familiar sights finally appeared before him.

  The steamed bun shop he often visited was still nestled between the general store and the armor shop. The two children buying things seemed to be from the miner's family at the back of the village; they had grown quite a bit taller. The blacksmith's wife, who was missing an eye, was drawing water from the well. Two bricks were still missing by the wellside; he remembered one was pried off by him at age ten to use as a weapon during a fight, and it shattered when he cracked the ruffian's head. The carpenter who always disliked him still had that large rock in front of his door; even the faint traces of his childhood urination on it seemed vaguely visible. The door of the girl who often treated him to food was tightly shut, still missing a wooden plank...

  "I'm back!" Ethan shouted loudly. His voice echoed under the hazy sky. The villagers looked at him in surprise; some recognized him. "Hey, it's that blacksmith's bastard son. He actually came back."

  The dozen or so gold coins in his pocket felt heavy. He had specifically asked General Gru for them. His father's honest, wooden face appeared in his mind—unremarkable. It seemed that once it conveyed the concepts of an honest man and a blacksmith, there was nothing else left to impress. But after weathering the storms outside for so long, he realized this utterly ordinary face was the most familiar.

  He wondered what expression his father would have seeing the money he brought back—enough to buy everything in his shop. Would he be excited? But the father in his memory never seemed to have such emotions. He would probably just ask as before, indifferently, if he had eaten, then take out the cold porridge or bread that always seemed to be prepared.

  Finally arriving at the village's end, the familiar house stood before him. But Ethan was utterly stunned.

  This place, which should have felt familiar, now looked completely foreign. His father's tools, always left outside in the grass shed regardless of wind or rain, were nowhere to be seen. The shed had mostly collapsed, and the furnace was covered in moss due to the basin's damp mist, showing it hadn't been used for a long time. The door was tightly shut, the roof was dilapidated, and the dust everywhere indicated no one had lived here for some time.

  Ethan stood frozen at the door for a long while before reaching out to push it. The door creaked open with a groan, swaying unsteadily.

  The furnishings inside were unchanged. The weapon rack was still there, but empty. The dining table was still in the corner, and the stool he had broken and his father repaired was still placed under it. Familiar, simple furniture was covered in dust.

  Behind the village, a solitary hut leaned against the hillside. An old woman was sitting in front of it, reading. She had long brown hair and a slender face. One could tell she must have been a rare beauty in her youth, but she also exuded an aura distinctly different from other women. While reading, she suddenly looked up and saw Ethan running over.

  "You're back?" The old woman closed her book and stood up. "I knew you had questions you must ask me. Come inside."

  The small hut was just as Ethan remembered from his childhood—still so tidy. Books and souvenirs from various adventures and travels were neatly arranged. Ethan asked anxiously, "Aunt El, where is my father..."

  "He's dead." Aunt El sat down on a chair and answered softly.

  These three words instantly shattered everything in his mind. Ethan froze.

  "Not long after you left, people from the mine came. They said you stole high-quality iron ore from the mine. Your father said nothing. He sold all the goods in the house to compensate and went to work in the smelter. On the third day, while pouring molten steel, he didn't notice a dead rat in the crucible. The rat exploded when heated by the steel, and the splashing molten steel blinded his eyes. Though his life was saved, he couldn't care for himself and relied entirely on the villagers' charity. His health worsened day by day, and he finally succumbed to illness two months ago. I went to see him. It was years of accumulated exhaustion; nothing could be done."

  "How could this happen..." Ethan crouched down on the spot, hugging his head. He felt as if his mind was both completely full and utterly empty.

  Aunt El looked at him, sighed deeply, turned, and took out a ring from a drawer. "This is what your father left for you. He said it was found on you when he picked you up."

  "What did you say?" Ethan, dazed, could still grasp the earth-shattering weight of those words. "Picked up what?"

  "You are not his biological son. His wife passed away long ago. You were abandoned at the village entrance one night. Your father picked you up and brought you back." Aunt El's expression and voice were equally calm, but every word made Ethan feel the world spin.

  His father's grave was not far outside the village. Like the man himself, it was an unremarkable mound of earth that one would forget upon seeing. Even the tombstone was only roughly carved with his father's name. Because the villagers all believed the runaway son would never return.

  Ethan half-crouched, half-knelt before the grave, his hands resting on it, feeling the cold, silent earth. He closed his eyes without moving. Aunt El stood behind him, watching, and said nothing.

  After a long while, Ethan finally spoke softly, "Ever since I was young, I yearned for the outside world. All my time and energy were spent on how to escape this damned place. In the end, I did escape. But the outside world also left me lost, not knowing what to do. Now, looking back, I realize... why did I ever want to leave here?" His voice choked, and he couldn't continue.

  Aunt El said softly, "I asked your father. Why did he help you leave this place? Your father said it was for no particular reason, just to let you do what you wanted to do. What you're doing now is what you wanted to do, isn't it?"

  "There are many things I don't want to do... but I have no choice... Faced with reality, I'm powerless..."

  "Think of your father. He was an utterly ordinary person. He forged you a knife so you could run away. What did he get out of it? What could you really do once you were out? But he still did it." Aunt El gently patted Ethan's shoulder. "Just like your father, do well what you want to do."

  After a moment of silence, Ethan let out a sigh like a groan and said, "I understand. I won't let him down. I will do well what I want to do." He took out the ring and put it on his left hand. The ring looked like ordinary jade, but Ethan could sense from the fluctuations it emitted that it must be an extremely rare magical item.

  "Your father said your name was carved on the ring. But looking at it, it doesn't seem to be."

  Ethan looked closely. Faint patterns were carved on the smooth ring's surface. The engravings were very faint. But Ethan saw these weren't actually his name. He had seen these symbols before; they weren't the Empire's common script, but the ancient language only mastered by high-level mages. In the eyes of his father, who was barely literate, these were naturally mistaken for other characters with similar shapes.

  The origin of his name was actually such a misunderstanding.

  "Look carefully. Perhaps you can find your true parents and your true name from this."

  "No need." Ethan turned his finger and rubbed the ring's smooth surface against the tombstone. The faint engravings were immediately smoothed away by the friction with the stone. "My father is right here. This is my name."