During the Red Moon Calendar years 193 to 205, there was a remarkable era known for producing an extraordinary number of mages, especially those skilled in ice magic. According to the core secrets of the Magic Guild, the Ice Wishing Tower produced 30 mages in less than a decade—a figure approximately 100 times the usual rate—primarily due to the involvement of a soldier who couldn't use magic at all.
This notable figure was none other than the renowned Leilek Haber, recorded in the Century of Magic Luminaries.
In this world, wherever there are continental roads, you can find Treehouse Taverns, even in the snow-covered lands. The Dragon Tooth Mountain continental road has only one fork: north to the capital of the Hami Kingdom, east to the Hami Kingdom, and west to the Amy Empire and the Holy Court. To the north of this fork stands a lush tree, seemingly a type of silver-leaf pine, about five meters in diameter, requiring at least ten people to encircle it fully.
Ten meters above the ground is the famous Treehouse Tavern. Beneath it lies a square stone slab, and those wishing to enter the tavern need only stand on the stone to be automatically teleported to the tavern's entrance.
Serving as the headquarters for the Magic Guild, the Mercenaries Guild, and the Thieves Guild, the Treehouse Tavern never lacks visitors. Just like other Treehouse Taverns across the continent, several beautiful sprites flutter with their translucent blue wings, delivering drinks and food to patrons.
"A guest has arrived, a guest has arrived," a polite simian beastman exclaimed at the door, leaping up to take the snow-covered hat from a newly arrived middle-aged man.
At first glance, the man appeared to be an imperial noble, evident from his courteous greeting to the simian beastman servant. Only nobles maintain decorum at all times, and only true nobles sincerely greet lower races like beastman servants.
The noble shifted slightly to reveal a boy of about sixteen or seventeen years old behind him. As the noble and the boy made their way to the platform, more patrons in the tavern stopped their chatter and turned their gazes towards the boy's back—he was carrying a two-handed sword almost as tall as he was. If made of iron, the sword would weigh about as much as a double-headed axe or a knight's lance. Moreover, intriguingly, the sword was not sharpened.
The boy possessed an exceptional demeanor, similar to that of the noble, or perhaps more like that of a young scholar, dressed in a pristine snow bear fur outfit, a faint smile gracing his lips. He navigated deftly between the tables and chairs.
Most tavern patrons were mercenaries, and perhaps out of curiosity about the two-handed sword, a burly mountain berserker extended his leg to trip the boy as he passed. It was a well-timed move, a common prank in the tavern, and many anticipated seeing the boy fall with the heavy sword pinning him down.
The boy, seemingly unaware of the change underfoot, continued walking while observing the tavern's corners. Yet, just as he was about to be tripped, he instinctively shifted his step and easily avoided the trap. The crowd, ready to burst into laughter, was momentarily stunned by the boy's agility, leaving the prankster with his mug of ale frozen in surprise.
"Hey, sir, come sit here," a woman in a bright red open-front blouse called out sweetly to Chi Hanfeng.
Noticing a few empty seats in front of her, Chi Hanfeng pulled Aimee along and approached the woman.
"Oh, you naughty little thing. What are you staring at?" The woman teased Aimee, proudly thrusting out her snowy chest.
Poor young Aimee was taken aback by the sight, but Chi Hanfeng quickly stepped in to rescue him: "Don't misunderstand, ma'am. My nephew is only 14. This is his first time out in the world, and in our village, there are no naturally beautiful women like you, let alone anyone dressed as fashionably. It's probably his first time seeing a lovely lady's bosom, though I wonder how it feels."
"So, he's a little fledgling," the woman said, pinching Aimee's cheek lightly. "Though he's grown well, he still lacks the charm of a gentleman like you. Would you like a fortune-telling? It's cheap, just five gold coins."
"When did the world change? I haven't been out for five years, but I remember standard magical divination only costing two silver coins," Chi Hanfeng remarked, plopping down at the table opposite the woman while making a discreet signal to Aimee, ogling her chest unabashedly.
"Oh, sir, how can you say that? In this icy land, is making money easy? How about I give you a free prediction: if you don't let me tell your fortune, you'll face a dire fate soon."
"Oh, really? Is your divination that accurate?" Chi Hanfeng asked, sipping from the glass just handed to him by a waiter, his tone casual.
"Hey, kid, you're daring to flirt with my woman?" The mountain berserker from earlier, apparently allied with the battle enchantress, pointed threateningly at Aimee's forehead. "Pay up for the inconvenience. You've ogled my woman's chest several times. Ten gold coins per glance, or you won't leave here today." The tavern quickly quieted down at his words.
"Trash is trash," Chi Hanfeng sneered at the berserker, reaching out to grab the woman's chest. "I not only looked over 100 times but also touched. So, what now?"
"Aimee, in this world, the strong survive. Throw them out, or there'll be no dinner tonight." The indifferent middle-aged man, unconcerned with the trouble he'd caused, tossed his belongings aside and settled into a comfortable spot, placing his snow-soaked feet on the table, preparing for some pre-dinner entertainment.
The berserker seemed content not to challenge the middle-aged man, grabbing a mountain berserker's signature weapon—a long battle-axe—from the table. His companions quickly cleared the area behind him.
Aimee removed the two-handed sword from his back and stepped back slightly.
The Treehouse Tavern was truly vast, and even setting up a dueling area only occupied a tenth of its space.
"Kid, prepare to die!" the berserker roared, his form expanding twofold. He rushed forward with remarkable speed, swinging his battle-axe down from above. Aimee's two-handed sword met the axe with force.
The axe was deflected, but the berserker didn't pause. The axe followed a small arc, aiming for Aimee's shoulder. The sword adjusted slightly to intercept. The axe slid down the sword to the ground, rebounding instantly towards Aimee's abdomen. Aimee used the sword hilt to block the strike.
"Not bad, kid, you can handle my triple-strike," the berserker scoffed at Aimee. "But now, go to hell. Phantom Strike!" Intense fury radiated from the berserker, and as he moved, a semi-transparent shadow remained at each spot—one, two, three, four.
"Careful, he's a high-tier berserker. The phantoms can attack too," Chi Hanfeng warned, losing his appetite in such a rare encounter with a high-tier berserker. On flat ground, a regular berserker could handle five or more two-handed sword fighters, while a high-tier berserker with four phantoms could face over 20. Berserkers were a nightmare in small-scale battles. Chi Hanfeng felt a twinge of regret. "Phantoms break when attacked."
Sweating profusely, Aimee faced the phantoms for the first time. In his mind, only two words echoed: "Go for it."
Aimee's sword swung swiftly twice in mid-air, creating sword phantoms in front of him.
"Sword Phantoms!" The tavern, as cold as the outside weather, buzzed with excitement. The legendary berserker's Phantom Strike and the two-handed sword fighter's Sword Phantoms were both present, and the young fighter was only 14. Such an event was worthy of a bard's tale.
Leaping boldly, Aimee passed through his Sword Phantoms, closing the distance to the berserker three meters away. In an instant, his two-handed sword struck left, center, and right, each leaving a black sword phantom. The berserker, aware of Aimee's comparable strength, defended the lightning-fast sword shadows with all his might, while his four phantoms surrounded Aimee, their semi-transparent axes attacking from all sides.
The cry of "Phantoms" drew the attention of people in the Magic Guild, Thieves Guild, and Mercenaries Guild at three corners of the tavern. More spectators poured out to witness this rare battle.
From the Magic Guild emerged an elderly mage with white hair and a long blue robe, now tattered. His chest bore a badge indicating he was an archmage with limitless magical power.
Upon seeing the duelists, the mage furrowed his brows, murmuring, "Could it be him?"