Chapter 81 – Adrishig

“We came from Siren Island,” Ah Lan said.

Inside the barrier, it was relatively calm. Several mages were stationed at the edges, dealing with the waves of beasts. The main challenge of the beast tide lay in their sheer numbers—their levels weren’t particularly high, with only a few top-tier magical beasts scattered among them.

The person who led them in was named Qiu Na, a Fire Mage. Some of the mages fighting wore robes corresponding to their elemental attributes, while others, like Adele, wore deep indigo robes shimmering with starlight. Their combat style was unique. Lin Wei noticed that they rarely moved, and there was no fluctuation of magic around them, yet the beast tide in front of them continued to weaken, with countless corpses falling one after another—this must be the “Great Prophecy” of the Astrology Tower.

Qiu Na smiled as she looked them over: “Guests from the east… What brings you here?”

“Is Teacher Adele here?” Lin Wei didn’t answer her question directly.

Compared to these mysterious and unfamiliar mages in the Astrology Tower, his teacher was clearly more reliable.

“She’s on the third floor,” Qiu Na said, but she didn’t let the three of them pass. Instead, she turned and rejoined the battle: “The Astrology Tower’s forces are limited. Leave two people to help.”

The result of “leaving two people to help” was obvious—only Lin Wei entered the tower.

There was still some distance between the barrier and the actual location of the tower. From afar, the tall and narrow tower appeared exceptionally grand as they approached—its broad and solid base stretched upward, with no visible peak, as if it could extend infinitely into the distant sky. Unlike the light and airy floating bridges and islands of the Magic Academy, its tone was heavy and solemn, black like a pillar connecting heaven and earth. Above was the low-hanging celestial vault, and behind was the snow-flying far north.

Colored glass refracted a dim, multicolored light. The circular walls of the hall were not only adorned with various picture frames but also engraved with words in different languages, seemingly maxims left by predecessors. Lin Wei hurried past, barely making out phrases like “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death” and “Thus it is written… and thus it should be done.” His mind couldn’t hold such profound philosophies, and he simply thought of them as obscure nonsense—the walls were indeed quite lively.

An ancient-style spiral staircase wound upward. From the bottom, layers of doors overlapped in a dizzying pattern. The highest dome was a nearly lifelike starry sky, with countless tiny lights forming a static star chart. If not for the knowledge that it was daytime outside, one might have mistaken the top of the tower as unenclosed, leading directly to the vast night sky.

He circled the entire third floor—he really had no idea which of these identical doors would lead him to his teacher.

He was about to knock on one when a voice came from above the tower.

“Little one.”

It was probably calling him—he looked up, his gaze scanning the layers of spiral stairs, finally spotting a figure at the intersection of the starry sky and the railing.

The person, whose face was unclear, wore a robe of faint silver-blue, seemingly ethereal and ready to dissipate with the wind. He was looking down and, seeing Lin Wei raise his head, spoke again: “Come up.”

His voice was soft, yet it seemed to resonate layer upon layer, like falling starlight.

With no other choice, Lin Wei began climbing the stairs step by step.

The man’s eyes held a smile—his youthful and unremarkable face gave Lin Wei a sense of familiarity, not just from the appraiser who haggled with Daniel in the Trade House of the Floating Sky Capital, but also from some more vague yet profound memories.

“Schneider?” Lin Wei softly uttered the name.

“It’s me,” the man’s smile suddenly became bright and sly: “You’re the companion of that cute green-robed Alchemist.”

“His companion died in the Valley of Ice two days ago,” Lin Wei stared directly into the man’s pale silver eyes, trying to find something.

“I’m sorry…” The man rested his arm on the railing, burying his head in his arm in a strangely childlike manner.

“Who are you?” Lin Wei frowned.

“You can also call me Adrishig… but I don’t like this name, it’s too hard to pronounce,” he looked up, making a motion as if playing a flute, and said mysteriously: “I’m a bard who tells many stories.”

Lin Wei looked at him suspiciously: “And?”

“Hmm, let me think…” Adrishig closed his eyes: “I’m an appraiser at the Trade House, and I’ve exceeded my quota this year. The Magic Association has raised my appraisal qualifications again. Sometimes I also serve as a judge in the Heart of Kalaway, but not in recent years—their battles have gotten worse and worse.”

As Lin Wei listened to the man describe his professions, ranging from “selling flowers to female mages in the Floating Sky Capital” to “sampling magical plants in alchemy material shops,” he realized for the first time that mages had so many ways to pass the time aside from adventuring and spending entire days in sparring grounds.

When the man’s monologue finally came to an end, Lin Wei’s expression remained one of obvious distrust: “You seem to have left something out.”

“Clever little one,” Adrishig affectionately blew a breath by his ear: “But you’re really so impolite… Can’t I have a little secret?”

Lin Wei coldly turned his head away, ignoring him.

Looking down from above, he suddenly noticed that the deep honey-colored floor of the hall below extended in a familiar pattern—forming a complete map of the continent.

Looking up from below, he could imagine the vast and profound ocean from a corner of the starry sky. Now, looking down, the entire continent seemed like a small silhouette, indescribably thin and fragile.

The man broke the silence: “Alright… I’m actually a prophet.”

Lin Wei remained unmoved.

Until Adrishig finally said: “I went through so much trouble to invite you here alone—how can you treat me like this?”

Lin Wei narrowed his eyes slightly: “The demeanor of a master.”

After a while, Adrishig sighed softly: “Fine—I’m the master of this damned place. Will you talk to me now?”

Lin Wei quietly observed him with his spiritual sense, just as he had seen in the Trade House—a person with no magic fluctuations, a person who could be called “mischievous,” and yet, no matter how you looked at it, he couldn’t be associated with the identity of the Tower Master. The Astrology Tower’s mission of “guarding the past, present, and future of the Magic World” seemed utterly incompatible with such a person, carrying a sense of absurd humor. Yet, there was an indescribable aura of antiquity about him, one that could only be explained by the mysterious identity of “Tower Master.”

“So… Lord Adrishig, what do you want to tell me?”

“I want to exchange something with you,” Adrishig blinked, his eyes shining with the same light as when he haggled with Daniel.

Lin Wei finally turned to look at him, masking the brief confusion in his eyes—similarly shining with the same light as when he haggled with Daniel—and said: “Go on.”

“My request is simple. If one day you learn of the whereabouts of the Goddess Katanaphia, tell me,” Adrishig said, mysteriously raising a finger between himself and Lin Wei: “In exchange, I’ll answer one of your questions.”

Lin Wei crossed his arms: “Why should I ask you a question?”

“Your charming eyes are shrouded in mist from the swamp. I see your eyes and know you’re trapped in unsolvable mysteries and unknowable dilemmas. A prophet’s tongue is a hundred times more precious than an alchemist’s nose… So many mages in confusion have sought my guidance—and are willing to pay any price for it,” Adrishig finally shed the awkward, pretentious, and deeply uncomfortable childlike demeanor. His strange pale silver eyes made his smile even more mysterious.

“I’ve heard you’re erudite and mysterious—why not be more generous? Like five questions, or even ten.”

“I can’t afford such a price,” Adrishig shook his head: “You’re a clever little thing, you can’t know too much.”

“Then,” Lin Wei pondered for a moment: “Four, I’ll ask one less.”

“No,” Adrishig refused to budge.

“I know some other things about the Goddess… if you’re interested,” Lin Wei met his gaze.

The man smiled softly: “Three.”

Lin Wei: “Acceptable, but I want sincere answers, the most detailed kind.”

“Naturally.”

“There’s one more thing I want to know—what can I ask?”

Adrishig’s smile carried a hint of subtle arrogance: “Anything.”

Lin Wei thought for a moment. The image of a longbow on the map and the chaotic marks on the land of the Valley of Wind flashed through his mind.

“No, not these,” he thought: “I only have three questions. I need to choose the ones I have no possibility of answering on my own.”

The light here was dim, like night, yet his thoughts were as clear as white words on black paper. The known, the unknown, and the soon-to-be-known were arranged in a sequence only Lin Wei understood, determining the three questions that would be asked.

“First,” he looked at the smiling Tower Master: “What is the relationship between Adrishig and Aisa Yivis?”

“An unexpected question,” the Tower Master’s tone was full of interest: “They are almost two names for the same person, equivalent to ‘Schneider.’”

Lin Wei smiled: “We just promised each other—detailed answers.”

“Can’t fool you… Alright,” Adrishig pointed to his eyes: “No one can achieve eternal life, but some things can, like these damned eyes—it’s said that the river of time flows within them. Generation after generation of Tower Masters have died, but they’ve been inherited, carrying knowledge and memories from the very beginning. Some have been forgotten, others remain fresh.”

“Second,” Lin Wei turned his gaze to the faintly glowing map of the continent below: “What is the relationship between the Valley of Metal and the Spear of Longinus?”

“The Holy Spear of Longinus is a benevolent elder. The time it has experienced is a hundred times that from now to the Dark Age. It is the ultimate embodiment of the knightly spirit, sacrificing itself for the entire continent and contributing half its power, making the metal element one of the five most common natural magic elements—but this was a mistake, an unavoidable futility.”

Adrishig sighed: “I’m sorry, but that’s as far as I can go. This question involves too much. If I explain it in more detail, it’s equivalent to directly answering thousands of questions.”

“That’s enough,” Lin Wei raised an eyebrow triumphantly, causing Adrishig to sigh again, this time in frustration and helplessness.

“Honestly, these two questions disappoint me a little. You could’ve asked something more pressing—like the origin and purpose of the Valley of Elements,” Adrishig shook his head: “Two questions, one about me, one about your companion… You’re almost like a selfless person.”

“Last one,” Lin Wei ignored his words. He looked up at the seemingly within-reach starry sky, his gaze as empty as the starlight. His voice suddenly became very soft, very low, carrying a complexity he couldn’t fully understand but with a strange certainty.

“Can time flow backward?”

Adrishig suddenly smiled—he had been smiling all along, but none of his smiles were as meaningful as this one. It gradually widened, and even though the man quickly turned away, leaving only a thin silhouette, his face left an indelible shadow in Lin Wei’s mind.

He walked toward a double-door with dark brown wood and silver inlays: “Follow me.”