Chapter 28 – Gungnir Spear

Lin Wei leaned back against the headboard, watching as Duan Yu came to the other side of the bed and gently placed his right hand on the dark brown eggshell.

Centered around the point where Duan Yu’s right hand met the eggshell, ripples of elemental energy spread out. These ripples were purer and more powerful than all the magic elements currently filling the room, suppressing them entirely. Even the glow of the translucent magic crystals beneath the eggshell dimmed slightly. Even without releasing his spiritual energy, Lin Wei could clearly sense this change.

Duan Yu—though he had yet to grow into the person he would become in the future—was already showing signs of his immense power. Lin Wei couldn’t help but glance at the white box Duan Yu had placed on the bedside table.

“This box… can I look at it?”

Duan Yu answered without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Of course.”

Lin Wei heard his own heartbeat.

Thump. Thump.

The pure white long box, with its smooth and lustrous texture, was handed to him by Duan Yu—the man who had been his enemy for half a lifetime in his past life. Duan Yu’s gesture was casual, no different from the many times they had shared ordinary items before.

But for Lin Wei, this was anything but ordinary. In his still-vivid memories of his past life, this very object had been pointed at his throat countless times.

As his fingers lightly touched the smooth surface of the box, a familiar, deathly chill surged up, spreading from his fingertips to his entire body.

Lin Wei took a deep breath and slowly pulled open the box from the bottom. What emerged from within was indeed the familiar aura and shape he remembered.

On the battlefields of his past life, he had witnessed countless magical weapons of various kinds—staffs topped with crystal balls or magic crystals, amplifying every spell; the endless array of small scrolls and potions crafted by alchemists, always thrown at the most unexpected moments; and even the secretly forged bows inlaid with sunstones, their illusory strings pulled by incantations, sending powerful high-level spells like meteors into the dense ranks of the enemy army.

But none of these could compare to what Lin Wei now held in his hands.

The dark silver metal, of unknown material, encased a translucent crystal, entwined with mysterious patterns—standing as tall as a person. Slender, sharp, and exquisitely crafted, it radiated an unparalleled elegance. When held in Duan Yu’s hand, it seemed to come alive, emitting a dark, cold light and an icy aura capable of severing everything.

Lin Wei silently recited its name in his heart.

“Gungnir Spear…”

He stared intently at the ancient patterns on the long shaft, their origins lost to time. His memories traveled back to the day he first faced the man beside him on the battlefield.

At that time, the war had not yet reached its peak. Lin Wei, leading the Empire’s Fifth Legion—the Violet Legion, accompanied by several members of the Mage Corps, faced off against a dozen mages from the Magic World floating in the air.

The two sides stood in silent confrontation, each waiting for the order to attack, neither making the first move.

Beside Lin Wei, a water mage on his first battlefield gripped his staff tightly and said, “Why aren’t they moving? Lord Duke, let’s go first—the Fifth Legion is not only well-equipped but also has three thousand warriors. No matter how strong they are, what can they do to us?”

“We’ve never fought against the Magic World before… Igor, are you trying to send our warriors to their deaths?”

The words of the black-cloaked Duke fell gently. His voice was not loud, but even the slightest hint of reprimand in his tone was enough to make Igor tremble and apologize: “I’m sorry, Lord Duke, I didn’t think it through.”

“Igor, those mages are clearly not as impatient as you. Look…” The Duke pulled back his wide hood, revealing a pale and handsome young face, and looked up at the sky. “He’s waiting for me.”

“For you?”

A rare, expectant smile appeared on the Duke’s face as he met the emotionless gaze of the white-robed mage leading the enemy.

From behind the dark mass of the legion came a deep, resonant roar. A massive creature spread its wings, casting a terrifying shadow on the ground as it dove swiftly toward the Duke—this was the dragon the Duke had summoned, a creature everyone in the Mage Corps recognized.

The dragon flew lower and lower, stirring up gusts of violent wind that forced the soldiers to half-close their eyes.

The dragon exhaled a powerful breath, allowing the young Duke to leap lightly onto its broad back—then it flapped its wings and soared high toward the enemy.

On the other side, the white-robed Archmage—his face equally young, his features even exquisitely perfect—stood with a cold, icy expression that made one overlook his beauty.

The mage held his right hand out, and a dark silver spear materialized from the void, its sharp, cold aura sweeping across the battlefield in an instant.

The dragon exhaled another breath, this time no longer the strong but gentle force from before, but a scorching, violent surge of magical power, nearly creating an elemental storm.

Yet the mage’s expression remained unchanged. Without any visible incantation, a pale golden barrier unfolded before him, colliding with the dragon’s fiery breath and even slowly pushing forward, gaining a slight advantage in this first exchange—or perhaps, this first test.

However, his intention was not to create a safe distance but to move closer to the Duke on the dragon’s back as the barrier advanced.

The dragon, unwilling to yield, intensified its breath, but it still couldn’t stop the mage, only causing his dark golden hair to flutter slightly in the chaotic currents.

The Archmage looked down at the black-cloaked, black-haired Duke.

“Summoner… the continent is not where you belong.”

“Leader,” the Duke met his gaze without flinching, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Then you’ll just have to regret that I wasn’t born in the Magic World!”

Under the control of his contract, the dragon suddenly soared higher, its chest emitting rhythmic sounds as an elemental vortex began to form around it—exhaling its breath was only the dragon’s most basic attack; this extraordinary species also possessed powerful Dragon Language magic.

The mage finally launched his attack. The dark silver spear hummed, radiating a sharp, piercing cold light and a powerful surge of metal elemental energy. Like a brilliant meteor, it streaked across the sky, reflected in the Duke’s deep eyes.

—This was the moment when he and Duan Yu first faced each other.

Lin Wei’s fingers traced the cold spear shaft, recalling that they had actually exchanged a few words back then. Unfortunately, that rare conversation had not been a pleasant one.

That’s enough… no need to recall any further.

Lin Wei shook his head, trying to banish the lingering memories from his mind—the man who had nearly pierced his dragon’s heart with a single strike was now incubating an egg for him!

That damned Gungnir Spear, no matter how mysterious or powerful it was, now lay obediently before him…

Lin Wei reached out and flicked the spear shaft hard. The unique material of Gungnir emitted a long, clear ring.

Hearing the sound, Duan Yu asked, “What are you doing?”

“I flicked it,” Lin Wei said matter-of-factly. “It’s too cold. Just holding it for a moment made my hand freeze!”

His weapon had been disrespected, perhaps even mistreated, but Duan Yu showed no sign of anger, only smiling faintly. “Be careful.”

Be careful?

Was he telling Lin Wei to handle Gungnir with care, not to damage it, or to be careful of his own hand, not to let it get too cold from the spear?

Lin Wei felt his heart, which had hardened due to the chaotic memories of his past life, soften again.

He looked at Duan Yu beside him, recalling the many life-and-death moments in his past life when he had narrowly escaped danger—was it luck, or had this man never truly intended to kill him?

Thinking back to their first meeting, perhaps Duan Yu had hoped that he, as a summoner, would return to the Magic World where he truly belonged—yes, return, not go.

After all, mages truly belonged in that world, not on the continent where they always felt out of place. And this leader, though always expressionless, was indeed not a cold and heartless person…