What is life?

Drest took a long time to answer that question.

He was born the son of a tenant farmer in the central part of the empire, in the Zebulon Region.

As a child, he played in the mountains and fields, learned to plow as he grew, cultivated the land, harvested, and during times of scarcity, hunted in the wild to fill his stomach.

His family was poor but harmonious, without ambition, dreaming only of finding a good partner, a decent piece of land, and taking pride in owning a vast farm and a complete home.

He was nothing more than a young tenant farmer without greed, whose sole aim was to live an honest and steady life.

However, heaven had granted him a gift. In the depths of night, holding his plow in the field and looking at the starry sky, it seemed as though the principles of the heavens were captured in his eyes.

The flowing magical energy appeared like a turbulent river, a natural landscape, and the spark of magic at his fingertips felt like an extension of his body.

He learned magic—not out of ambition or devotion to the magical path, but simply because he could.

Seeing city mages cast spells and feeling the magical flow in nature, he developed a unique style of magic. He could predict when the wind would blow and seemed to sense when rain would come.

While walking through the forest, the whisper of each leaf spoke to his ear, and every movement seemed entirely understandable. He would aim his bow where wild animals would land and avoid places where stones might fall.

He was a mage born of the ordinary.

By the time he reached adulthood, he had achieved 2-star status, and when his beard grew and he started a family, he reached 3 stars. In a small village at the edge of his territory, he became a heroic figure, and his entire family respected him as their head.

His wife, the daughter of a miller, was kind and beautiful, always caring for him, and his two lovely daughters were always proud of their father’s magical feats.

He had an epiphany.

If the first act of his life was that of a tenant farmer, the second act was that of a Mage. With that realization, he deepened his magical achievements, studying spellbooks brought from the city day and night, perfecting and developing many exploration spells, making them his own.

Before he realized it, no ordinary mage could keep up with him. Could he reach the realm of 4-star magic before the age of forty? Could the second act of his life shine even brighter? With that thought, he devoted himself even more to both magic and farming in that humble village.

And then, his life entered a third act: the life of a vengeful spirit. The entire world paid homage to him for reaching 3-star status. Famous nobles expressed amazement that a commoner mage could achieve such a state, and among ordinary mages, he became nearly a spiritual pillar.

Rumors of Drest, the seeker mage of Count Zebulon, reached Ebelstain. Even as a commoner, he became living proof that someone could reach the realm of a high-level mage.

All sorts of mages began arriving at his village, seeking his teaching. Most were absorbed in the study of magic, and chatting with them was a joy. However, some spoke of more than magic. They held resentment toward the blooded nobles who wielded magic as a privilege and ruled the world.

There were those from humble origins, mages with venomous tempers, shouting that the world needed to change.

The following year, they were beheaded in the city square. Apparently, they had been caught trying to assassinate Count Zebulon. It was an unpleasant end. Still, that human temperament would occasionally reappear.

To them, the existence of Drest—a commoner who dared to reach the 4-star magical realm—was not a messiah. They praised him, saw him as living proof, and held deep desires to change the world.

Drest had no interest in such a revolution. Though he belonged to the ranks of high-level mages, his essential nature hadn’t changed much from his days as a tenant farmer. What he sought was personal achievement, not a transformation of the world.

He lived in the hope of reaching a higher realm and, beyond that, to provide for his wife and daughters. That was the extent of his aspirations. And the following year, Count Zebulon ordered the execution of Drest’s entire family. All the revolutionaries believed in Drest as their savior. As he gradually surpassed the 4-star level, their numbers surely grew.

The Count wanted to eradicate all seeds of rebellion. Drest might not lead the revolution, but he was its catalyst.

He was accused of many crimes. Heinous sins he had never committed tarnished his honor. Ironically, the only ones who understood it was all defamation were the very revolutionaries who had placed him in that position.

One day, upon returning home, he found his house soaked in blood. His wife’s corpse hung on the wall. His two daughters had been massacred, their bodies lying on the floor, drenched in blood.

The house was set ablaze, and a massive bonfire cast a red glow into the night sky. The blood of villagers who once shared bonds with him flowed like a river. Charred bundles rolled across the ground, occasionally flaring with embers. It was the scene of everything he knew in his village turning to ashes and vanishing. The faces of the soldiers who set the fire gleamed with joy.

The revolutionaries whispered in Drest’s ear: “This is the work of the nobles.”

Their urging turned Drest into a vengeful spirit born from hell. Years passed, and after many small battles and chases, he infiltrated the mansion and nearly killed Count Zebulon.

But he could not bring himself to kill the Count. In the burning house, the Count trembled in fear, clutching his daughters, pleading for his life with tears. Drest’s eyes, locked onto the Count’s tearful pleas for his daughters’ lives, still burned with vengeance. Revenge was futile. What remained after it was only hatred and a new emptiness.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand this. But it had to be done. Even if it was hollow and meaningless, it was something to reflect on after the act. He could not live the rest of his life consumed by a burning thirst for vengeance.

The cycle of hatred had to be broken at some point, but it didn’t have to start with him. In the moment when his killing magic surged, he recalled his innocent children upon seeing the terrified daughters of the Count. They were the image of innocence. Just as his daughters had died in vain, these children were innocent too.

Drest closed his eyes and reflected, then severed one of Count Zebulon’s eyes, his tongue, and the tendons of both legs. The Count writhed in pain, bleeding. Leaving him to live a crippled life, Drest departed from the mansion.

Thus, he became a public enemy of the aristocracy. For more than a decade, he lived as a fugitive.

Many mages who believed in and followed him tried to protect him—and died. Even his closest companions perished. Years passed, and though all others were captured, Drest himself remained elusive.

Neither the high nobles nor the 5-star mages of the imperial palace could catch him. By the time he turned fifty, he had surpassed the 5-star threshold, his revenge having forged him into the greatest seeker mage in the world. Though age was catching up with him, and he could no longer run fast, he had no special transportation or hidden paths known only to him.

Yet with his calm gait, walking slowly along the same roads as everyone else, no one could catch him. As if he knew exactly when and where his pursuers would appear, the movements of the old man drifting through the world seemed ghostlike.

Fifteen years passed, and by the time he was over sixty, the high nobles completely gave up on capturing him. It had been nearly thirty years since he had mutilated Count Zebulon. Time eroded everything in this world—including sin.

After three decades, the nobles had to admit: capturing Drest WolfTail was an impossible task. If they couldn’t fully suppress the seeds of revolution he embodied, they had to at least draw him into their sphere of influence. Only after so much time did they resign themselves and decide to approach him differently.

Years later, the imperial palace granted Sir Drest the title of baronet. If they couldn’t control him, they would make him a noble to protect their authority. More than thirty-five years passed before he was finally freed from his pursuers, as many stepped forward to clear the misunderstandings surrounding him.

The Emperor himself resolved the feud with the Zebulon prince’s family, offering numerous honors, reparations, and apologies, and in the end, he was free.

Aware, he found that life had entered its twilight, and he had become a true noble. Now, he was no longer a commoner, but a noble. He had no land or grand mansion, but he was accepted as a noble purely for his magical excellence, completely apart from the common folk.

The commoners no longer saw him as someone who would overthrow the nobility. He had become a noble solely through magical talent, making many commoners believe that if they lived diligently, they too might one day receive such wealth.

Drest didn’t care about such public perceptions. At this point, everything in life had become empty to him. And to a certain extent, he wasn’t wrong. He was, indeed, the only one who had destroyed the privilege of the nobility through pure magical talent alone.

He had reached the realm of a six-star mage, becoming one of the most famous mages in the world, though society only knew him as a four-star mage. He had no proper faction, but rumors described him living in luxury.

He harbored no ambition, yet to others, he was seen as an ambitious common mage. Those who followed him founded an academy in his name, and he occasionally supported them, but whenever he could, he wandered the world.

He climbed high mountains to gaze down at the world below and entered the deepest caves to surrender to the darkness.

Living a life without family or friends, adrift, he soon turned eighty, then ninety.

When he looked down upon the world, everything had changed. The old man looked up at the high sky. Though many years had passed, the sun, moon, and stars remained in their places. It had been a turbulent journey, but everything in the heavens always seemed unchanged.

Walking quietly, the old man suddenly looked up at the sky and murmured:

“Yes. This is life.”

He had been the beloved only son of a father, the firm head of a household, and a bloodthirsty avenger. A hermit consumed by emptiness, a spiritual pillar of the academy, an idol to some commoners, and an enemy to some nobles.

And at times, he was someone’s companion, and at others, someone’s foe.

As his life entered its twilight, few feelings remained.

“After all, there’s not much to do.”

This is life.

Only at life’s end did the old man realize it. He had run as if pursued, and at times had pressed forward without thinking…

But in the end, this too was life.

“Hmm, your magical talent is too ambiguous.”

In the southwest of the empire, wandering spirits roamed. Dereck might not know the rumors among the high nobles, but at least the opinion that the old man with the ring seemed like a ghost was unanimous.

The old man who left the tavern with Dereck walked through the streets, bathed in the air of dawn, as if floating.

Following him, Drest evaluated Dereck’s magical talent with a hoarse yet faint voice.

“Ambiguous?”

“Yes.”

No one in Dereck’s life had ever described his magical talent as ambiguous.

He had reached two-star status at fourteen and was aiming for three-star at seventeen.

He might even achieve magical feats faster than Drest himself. Dereck’s magical talent was extraordinary.

Yet Drest called it ambiguous. To him, it looked like a distant realm.

“If you dream of reaching a high realm as a common mage, the ordinary is not a good sign in the end.”

“…”

“If you seek a path, you will be overwhelmed.”

Dereck debated internally how to respond. Honestly, he thought his current level was exceptional.

“There will be great chaos in the west of the empire. To survive, you must become more extraordinary.”

“…”

They walked through dark, impoverished alleys at night, and finally, while straightening his cloak, Drest turned around.

In a place shrouded in darkness, the cold gaze of the honorable mage gleamed faintly.

“Combat magic will protect you from various anomalies, and chaos magic will create countless variables in diverse situations. But to properly wield such magic, one must also know how to obtain correct information about the situation and environment.”

Drest’s thin hand sliced through the air, then clenched tightly with resolve.

The burst of magical power seemed to cover the sky. The intricate details of various spells etched above were so fine that even Dereck, quite skilled in multiple magical fields, couldn’t help but open his eyes in awe.

Staring at the glowing magical formulas decorating the dark night streets, Dereck’s eyes were fully captivated, shining with fascination.

The series of exploration spells revealed were on a completely different trajectory from anything Dereck had ever experienced.

The grand spectacle of magical power looked like a sea chart, showing the path to a distant golden realm.

***

The next day,

At the ‘Tears of Beldern’ tavern

From the morning, Jayden was busy with the stack of letters arriving.

Though receiving job requests was routine, today was special because many had come.

‘I didn’t expect to get letters from the Beltus, Belmierd, and Duplain families all at once. It’s true—life is full of surprises.’

The reputation of the Beldern Mercenary Group had grown rapidly since its founding.

Thanks to Dereck’s contributions, Jayden’s hard work, and the strength of the other members.

Still, they weren’t famous enough to receive simultaneous requests from the three most prominent families in the western empire. Of course, only one person was being sought in those letters.

Jayden pondered how to handle the situation.

– Clink!

“Oh, Dereck!”

When Dereck boldly entered the tavern, Jayden greeted him cheerfully.

There were many lucrative commissions. Just as he was about to bring them up, Dereck grabbed a bag of food from the corner of the bar table, left a silver coin, and said urgently:

“Reject all commissions starting today. The other members are enough, right? It’s time I take a break.”

“…What?”

Jayden knew Dereck took breaks regularly, but this time the clients were too influential.

Such requests couldn’t be easily declined. Just as Jayden was about to explain, Dereck, who seemed in a hurry, said:

“I’m leaving now. There’s an urgent matter I must attend to.”

It was rare to see Dereck, usually calm, acting as if fire was on his heels.

The strange anticipation in his eyes seemed to sparkle with joy—like fulfilling a long-cherished ideal. The difference from his usual demeanor was unsettling.

Jayden was about to explain the difficulty of rejecting those commissions, but Dereck had already left the tavern with a light step.

To a stranger, it might not have seemed unusual, but Jayden, who knew Dereck well, noticed. Dereck was extremely excited.

He had no intention of teaching anyone at that moment.

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