A figure emerged from the forest onto the green hillside.
At first, he jogged, then slowed to a brisk walk, and finally strolled leisurely.
After covering some distance and nearly reaching the lake at the bottom of the hill, he stopped.
"Huff—Huff—"
"Just a few steps and I'm already this exhausted. This body is really too weak."
Standing by the lakeside, Ronan panted heavily, complaining while taking off his shoes.
He tied the deerskin boots together with their laces and hung them around his neck, then rolled up the hem and sleeves of his cumbersome robe. Cautiously, he stepped into the water before him.
When the icy water covered his ankles and slowly enveloped his calves, Ronan splashed some water on his face, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over him.
At this moment, the gently rippling surface of the water reflected the image of a young man.
Chestnut hair, thick eyebrows, a high nose—his features were decent, but his eyes were lifeless, his skin dull, his face bloated, and he had prominent dark circles, giving him a look of lethargy and almost sleazy weariness.
"This is... from rewarding myself too much, I suppose."
"Slap—"
Ronan splashed the water, scattering his reflection, and slowly turned to walk back to the shore.
Beside the lake stood a lush walnut tree, surrounded by wild grasses. Ronan lay down beneath the tree, hands behind his head, staring at the black goats grazing leisurely on the distant hillside, lost in thought.
It was his third day since crossing over.
The body he had entered was also named Ronan—Ronan Damien, the son of a count in the kingdom.
Having been randomly discovered with the potential to become a wizard, his family had sent him far away to this gathering place for wizards to study.
Unfortunately, his aptitude was poor, and he lacked diligence. After several months, he was still lingering at the doorstep of wizardry, barely scraping by.
If Ronan hadn't taken over, the original owner would likely have been sent packing in a few more months.
Thinking of this, Ronan couldn't help but feel a deep sense of frustration.
If only he had crossed over six months later, by then the original owner would already be back at the family estate.
After taking over, he could have enjoyed the noble lifestyle of horseback riding, tea drinking, and playing cards with his personal maid.
"Born at the wrong time."
Ronan sighed deeply, sat up, and began to put his shoes back on.
Today marked his first attempt to venture out since crossing over. He planned to go over the hill and explore the forest ahead, mapping out the nearby area.
But just as he took a few steps forward, the black goats on the hillside suddenly scattered in panic.
The next second, two small figures appeared in Ronan's line of sight.
One chased the other rapidly, with blinding flashes of light bursting between them.
"Damn!"
Ronan's pupils contracted, his expression turning tense.
Without much hesitation, he quickly changed direction, turned around, and ran.
Fragments of memory flashed through his mind.
The Hoddam Wizard Gathering was centered around the Hoddam Wizard Academy.
The entire academy was under the protection of a massive rune formation, a tranquil and peaceful paradise for cultivation and residence.
Outside lay various markets and residential areas built around the academy. Though not protected by the rune formation, they were managed by academy wizards, ensuring relative stability.
The area Ronan was in was a wilderness at the town's edge, beyond the "safe zone," where no rules applied.
Wizards often chose this area for duels, vendettas, and treasure hunts.
Ronan had only heard about it before, but today he unexpectedly witnessed it firsthand.
As he ran into the forest, he glanced back and saw one of the figures on the hillside slowly fall to the ground.
His heart tightened, and he dared not look again, burying his head in his robe's hood, sprinting forward to distance himself from the conflict.
It wasn't that Ronan was cowardly.
He was merely a lowly Level 1 wizard apprentice, the very bottom of the wizarding hierarchy.
So far, he hadn't learned even a single zero-level spell. If he got into a fight, he'd be nothing more than a lamb to the slaughter.
Without power, encountering a murderous wizard meant running was his only option. Staying put would only risk being caught in the aftermath.
Ronan dashed through shrubs, over hills, and across muddy patches. He twisted and turned through the serene forest until he stopped in front of a tall, dense oak tree.
Thick vines intertwined around the oak, and nestled among its branches was a small gray wooden house.
This was Ronan's "home."
The treehouse was built to ward off forest beasts, though its defensive capabilities were minimal.
Nevertheless, seeing his little abode brought him some comfort.
The treehouse stood a good seven or eight meters above the ground. Without pausing for breath, Ronan grabbed a vine hanging from the tree and clambered up.
Once at the treehouse, he fished out a brass key from beneath his collar.
"Click," "Bang!"
He swiftly unlocked the door, slipped inside, and slammed it shut.
The air inside was hot and humid, with a faint musty smell lingering.
Though there was a window, the leaves and vines outside blocked much of the light, leaving the interior dim.
Inside the quiet, shadowy house, Ronan leaned against the wooden door, breathing heavily, his heart pounding like a drum.
His mind raced, wondering what he'd do if the wizard from the hillside came to silence him. Should he flee? Where would he go? Would he have time?
His thoughts spiraled until his heartbeat gradually calmed. Exhaling, he groped his way to the table in the center of the room, grabbed a water jug, and gulped down several mouthfuls.
"Crack—"
The flint sparked, igniting a candle.
The dim candlelight illuminated Ronan's somber, brooding face.
No one came, and it seemed unlikely anyone would. But the near brush with danger still left him uneasy.
It had come so suddenly, without warning, right in his vicinity!
This time he was lucky to avoid it, but what about next time? Or the time after that?
Such incidents weren't uncommon in the wilderness. Every murderous wizard had a different temperament. What if he encountered one who was erratic and bloodthirsty?
Ronan's expression shifted, as if he had made a decision.
"Move! I'll move to the city tomorrow!"
But after rummaging through his belongings, counting his entire fortune, he had to reluctantly abandon the idea.
The original owner had left behind considerable wealth, being of noble birth. But in the wizarding world, the currency was magic stones; worldly gold and jewels held no value here.
Ronan's total magic stones didn't even make up one whole stone, while just the deposit for renting a place in the town's residential area required one low-grade magic stone.
As for the academy district?
There, student dormitory fees started at one magic stone per month.
"Unless I choose to sell the items I brought from the academy."
Ronan felt dejected.
Selling his heritage meant completely giving up on being a wizard, abandoning that path. In that case, staying here was pointless; he might as well buy a ticket back home.
"Forget it, I'll tough it out."
"Though the treehouse area is dangerous, many people live here. If I'm careful, avoid going out or interacting with others, danger might not find me..."
Ronan could only console himself this way.
After the frantic run, emotional upheaval, and the oppressive, dark little house, Ronan's tension eased, and he felt a wave of drowsiness.
His eyes drooped, and he drifted off to sleep.