**Chapter 14: The Wild Mage**
The Shadow Realm…
Gawain wasn't sure how much the human nations currently understood about this realm, but the memories he inherited painted a clear picture. Seven hundred years ago, the Gondor Empire had made significant studies in this area. Scholars with graying hair pored over arcane texts and data day after day, scrutinizing the crystal gauges buried in magical wells, hoping to uncover the true nature of the world. From this research, a classic model emerged, describing the "layering" of the world.
According to this model, scholars believed that the world was divided into multiple "realms." At the top was the Material Realm, the most stable and accessible layer where everything followed observable laws. It was the realm most living creatures inhabited.
Beneath the Material Realm lay the Shadow Realm—a twisted reflection of the Material World that most humans couldn't perceive or interact with directly. However, it could be sensed and measured through magical and spiritual means.
Below the Shadow Realm was the Phantom Realm, a place even more ethereal and mysterious, the mirror image of the Shadow Realm. This region was beyond the reach of magic or spiritual power. Some lucky mages had encountered shadowy entities capable of basic rational thought, and from cryptic hints, they deduced the existence of this deeper layer.
Some radical scholars even suggested that layers existed beyond the Phantom Realm. These realms would fall within the domain of gods, representing the "origin foundation" set by the Creator at the dawn of the world—far beyond the scope of human research.
In Gawain's understanding, this model resembled layers of translucent parchment, with the reality of the Material World at the forefront. Shadows of this reality were cast onto successive layers, becoming more distorted the deeper one went.
Gawain and Amber now stood on the backside of the first layer—the Shadow Realm. Even though it was only the second level, it was a place most humans had never set foot in.
He wisely refrained from asking Amber why she could enter the Shadow Realm, especially since, from her earlier words, it was clear that this was her first time venturing so "deep." Any questioning now would likely yield no answers.
There were still many secrets in this world worth exploring, and some truths couldn't be grasped simply by existing for centuries.
After a brief assessment, Gawain decided that following Betty's footprints was their only lead. Still, before leaving, he couldn't help glancing back at Hetty, Rebecca, and the others, who remained frozen in their "porcelain doll" states, their true bodies in the Material Realm, fending off the vengeful mist's invasion.
In the Shadow Realm, they appeared suspended at the moment of attack, while black mist seeped from the ground, relentlessly eroding them. Judging by the mist's slow rate of encroachment, they still had some time.
"This might be the true form of the vengeful mist…" Amber glanced at them and shook her head. "If we could sell this discovery to the Arcane Society or the Astrologer's Guild, how much do you think it'd fetch?"
"They'd probably pour potions into you, strap a recording crystal to your head, and toss you into the Shadow Realm to scout it out as their human guinea pig," Gawain retorted, rolling his eyes. "Come on, let's focus on the task."
Amber trailed behind, muttering, "But you could go instead! You're Ansu's founding ancestor. They wouldn't dare drug their own ancestor, right?"
"Oh, they'd be thrilled to hang my portrait, put me in history books, or place me on an altar," Gawain replied with a wry grin. "The king might even lead his whole family to lay flowers for me every year and give himself three days off—no risk, just a good reputation.
"But if this ancestor actually popped out of the coffin, those same people who worshipped me would be the first to nail me back inside. And they'd hammer in two hundred nails from every angle, maybe even pour in some molten lead."
Amber's eyes widened. "Why would they do that?!"
Gawain cast her a sideways glance. "Because the annual three-day mourning holiday would be canceled."
With that, Gawain strode forward, leaving Amber sputtering in confusion. After a moment, she yelled, "Wait! You got it wrong! There's no holiday for your memorial—it's for the founding king's day! You probably missed that because… well, you died too early!"
Gawain nearly stumbled.
Though he dismissed Amber's idea of selling the Shadow Realm's secrets, he had his own plans. He was curious about this realm—no, he was curious about the whole world. Someday, he'd uncover all its mysteries.
The trail of footprints didn't extend very far.
Perhaps the unique environment of the Shadow Realm distorted their sense of distance. After following the trail for only a short time, Gawain and Amber found themselves standing before a small, decrepit wooden cabin.
The cabin was old and rickety, surrounded by a dilapidated fence, which, judging by its sparse condition, could hardly serve any defensive purpose.
In one corner of the cabin, Gawain noticed a splash of color—moss. In this black-and-white world, it stood out starkly, though the color was fading rapidly.
Betty's footprints led straight to the cabin's door.
Amber drew her dagger, nervously gesturing in front of her. "You go ahead, ancestor! Charge in and cut them down. I'll cover you from behind…"
Gawain resisted the urge to grab her by the collar and throw her in first. Instead, he placed one hand on his sword's hilt and cautiously pushed open the cabin's gray door.
No attacks came.
Inside, the cabin was unremarkable, a plain, dilapidated room, like an old black-and-white photograph.
But it wasn't empty.
A man with a scruffy beard and a worn-out robe sat at a table in the center. His face was haggard, his age indeterminate. Behind him were shelves filled with jars and an old alchemy station. Various devices for magical experiments lay scattered around, intermingled with broken and useless junk—a scene so desolate that any respectable mage would feel a pang of sorrow at the sight.
The man behind the square table raised his head, looking in Gawain's direction. A stiff smile spread across his face. "Ah, guests. It's been so long since anyone came to my lab. And two guests, no less?"
Amber peeked out from behind Gawain, her small half-elf face filled with caution. "He… he's not attacking?"
Gawain kept his hand close to his sword, ready to draw it at any moment, but didn't unsheathe it. He stepped into the cabin cautiously. "We're just passing through, looking for someone—a girl about fifteen or sixteen, carrying a frying pan…"
The man behind the table seemed oblivious to Gawain's words. He only gave a slow, nodding smile. "Please, find a seat. Annie is preparing lunch. It's hard to find a place to rest in these deep woods. If you don't mind, stay and have a meal."
"Annie?" Gawain asked instinctively.
"She's my daughter," the man replied with a gentle smile. "Very well-behaved."
Just then, a surprised voice came from nearby, "Sir?"
Gawain turned and saw Betty standing by a small door in the corner, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Betty? I'm relieved you're safe," Gawain said, exhaling in relief. "I've come to take you back."
But Betty only shook her head slightly. The man behind the table also turned to her and asked warmly, "Annie, is lunch ready?"
Betty nodded obediently. "Almost, Father."
The young girl turned and disappeared back into the kitchen. Gawain and Amber exchanged a glance, and, seeing no reaction from the strange man behind the table, they followed her.
In the kitchen, Betty was preparing food, using her treasured frying pan. Pale flames flickered on the stove, and sausages sizzled in the pan.
Amber's attention went to an unexpected detail. "Wait, you can cook in the Shadow Realm?"
"What's going on here?" Gawain asked, stepping close to Betty and lowering his voice.
From her demeanor, it was clear she wasn't under the influence of any mind-control spell. Yet, here she was, cooking of her own will and calling this strange man "Father"—a perplexing situation.
"I'm not entirely sure…" Betty replied, with her usual slightly puzzled expression. "But it seems that man thinks I'm his daughter."
Amber's eyes widened. "And you just went along with it?"
Betty shook her head. "He seems so lonely… I thought I'd cook him a meal before I leave."
Gawain and Amber exchanged a look of mutual bewilderment.
Suddenly, Betty reached into the pocket of her maid's apron, pulling out a worn notebook, which she handed to Gawain.
"Sir, here. The man gave this to me. There's a lot in it I don't understand, but you might."
Curious, Gawain took the slightly battered notebook and flipped through the last few pages.
Amber leaned closer, her curiosity piqued. "What's in it? Let me see, let me see… Magic formulas? Rune sequences?"
The half-elf's eyes began to glaze over as she scanned the complex symbols and equations. She looked up at Gawain, bewildered. "So, that strange old guy is a mage?"
"Technically, he's a wild mage…" Gawain rolled up the notebook and tapped it on Amber's head. "Didn't you realize he was a mage when you saw all those magical experiment tools lying around?"