It was clear.

A considerable amount of time had passed since he fought the Goblins. The memory was slowly fading. But the image of the Goblins scattering like ants when he shot the Ice Spear was still vivid in his mind.

An unforgettable experience.

He raised his head.

Although the Ice Spear was shaped like a spear, it was quite large.

It was about the thickness of a small tree.

But its size didn’t matter much.

What made this magic so remarkable was that when the Ice Spear flew, it shattered, sending fragments flying around.

Each fragment had power comparable to an Ice Arrow, if not quite as strong. Because of this, its lethality was immense.

He shot it out. It was in the direction of the Forest.

The Ice Spear seemed to fly, then exploded with a sound like a Building collapsing. The sound of trees shaking and breaking echoed around.

Orcs appeared, sensing the commotion. The Orcs who burst out of their huts were astonished to see the broken tree.

But that was all.

They didn’t really understand why this had happened. They felt no great emotion even after seeing such a sight.

For the Warriors, it was important whether a battle had occurred. Seeing no enemies around, they each went back into their huts to sleep.

Among them, there was one who realized what the Protagonist had done.

The Shaman said so.

“You did it.”

He looked at him.

The Orc had an ugly pig face. Although the lack of fat made him seem dignified, the fact that he was ugly could not be denied.

If he hadn’t been large and muscular, he wouldn’t have been threatening either.

The Shaman said so.

For an Orc, he was small and lacked muscle. Furthermore, his back was hunched, and his limbs were gaunt. He was no different from an old Human.

The Protagonist thought he could even win against such an Orc with just his fists.

His first impression was also poor.

He was nothing more than a shabby old man.

But now, he looked different.

Because he knew he was an incredible Mage.

He still felt he could win if they fought.

He could barely feel any mana from him.

That Orc cannot fight.

The Mage’s intuition was telling him so.

It was probably due to being too old.

He was no longer able to use Magic.

If they fought, Protagonist would win.

But that fact couldn’t diminish his actions. After all, the Shaman was a great Mage. He was worthy of respect.

“Who are you?”

“Someone just waiting for the day to die of old age.”

“Are you a great Mage?”

“Well. Maybe in the old days.”

The Shaman smiled bitterly.

“Anyway, congratulations.”

He looked at him. He wasn’t trying to show off. The Shaman taught him great Magic, nothing else.

Up to intermediate level, the spell’s power wasn’t great.

But advanced was different. Even a single spell could cause at least dozens of casualties. Advanced Magic could twist the flow of the Battlefield.

He taught him such things simply because he helped his fellow tribesmen.

It was a kind of trade.

It was a trade where he suffered a huge loss.

He felt this wasn’t right.

He thought there might be a hidden agenda in Capital City.

He didn’t know what they wanted by teaching Protagonist great Magic, but thinking that way made more sense.

“Is there anything else you want from me?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because it seems like too much of a loss for you. I want to repay you separately.”

“Just learn Magic properly.”

“I said I wanted to repay you…”

“That is your repayment.”

“Me learning Magic?”

“I don’t have many days left to live. When you reach this age, you want to leave something behind. Warriors will swing their axes until they die. But Shamans like me tend to take on disciples.”

“What about your kin?”

There were many orcs.

Among them, there must be some with an aptitude for magic, so he could just teach them. He didn’t understand why the shaman insisted on teaching the protagonist, a human, when he was already so old.

“All my life, I’ve been arrogant. It was because I had a little skill. But when I got old, there was no one around me. I regretted it belatedly, but it was already irreversible.”

The shaman sighed. Unlike his seemingly considerate demeanor, it seemed he had looked down on others in his youth.

Considering his skill, it wasn’t surprising.

“It is my last wish for you to use the spell I taught you.”

“A wish…”

The shaman was regretting his past.

And he tried to reverse that regret, even a little.

It was through the protagonist.

“Getting old is miserable. That friend is the same.”

The shaman pointed a finger with long nails towards a spot. It was the hut where the old orc he had met before was staying.

“He still seemed energetic?”

“You saw him wrong. That friend no longer has days to wield an axe.”

“Does that mean he can’t fight?”

“Probably two or three times would be his limit.”

That meant he didn’t have to wait for the orc to die of old age.

Once he died, he just needed to take the statue. If the shop owner disappeared, the first one to take the item owned it.

The orcs fought every day.

If it was only two or three battles, it seemed it would end soon. However, it bothered him that he hadn’t seen the old orc fight during that time.

“When does that orc fight?”

“When he is certain there is a battlefield with a worthy opponent.”

“So, a big battle.”

“That’s right.”

“Will such a battle happen soon?”

“Well, it might happen tomorrow. Or it might not happen for a year.”

It meant he didn’t know much either.

The Shaman was pretending to know something when he could have just said he didn’t. He was like a Noble. They, too, would elaborate on trivial matters as if they were incredibly important.

If the Protagonist felt that way, the Orcs must have felt it even more. There was a reason he was left alone despite his great skill.

“That friend has now passed the One Step. If he takes that One Step, he won’t be concerned with things like the Statue.”

“One Step?”

“It means becoming younger.”

“Becoming younger?”

“It’s the outcome of the Blessing that Warriors desire.”

“What if he can’t take it?”

The Shaman tightly closed his mouth.

The Protagonist wondered if he had said something unnecessary.

He didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t the atmosphere to speak.

He left after only expressing his gratitude. It was already late at night. That day, he slept soundly.

He didn’t have to hear any groans because he had cured the Plague that the Orcs had, and perhaps because he had also succeeded in the Magic he learned from the Shaman, his mind was at peace.

He practiced the spells the next day as well.

Unlike before, he was relaxed.

The Protagonist just had to continue his training and wait for a battle to occur.

Since they were clashing with the Lizardmen, a major battle seemed likely to happen soon. Then the Orcs would fight.

The old Orc was no exception. The moment he put down his axe would be the day the Protagonist left this place.

Unlike before, he didn’t have to spend an indefinite amount of time.

It was also because he had spent the day productively. He lost track of time practicing the Magic the Shaman had taught him.

However, after he first memorized all the spells, it didn’t work.

It was so difficult, it made me wonder if my previous success was an illusion.

It definitely worked last time.

But now, it was as strenuous as when he was practicing before.

He went back to the Shaman and asked.

“Did you think you had mastered the magic?”

“Yes.”

Once a magic is successfully cast, it can be used again. That was obvious. But the Shaman’s expression was different.

“You haven’t learned it yet.”

“I haven’t?”

“There’s a chance of success.”

“Why is that?”

Up to intermediate magic, he had never failed when casting a spell after learning it.

If it were Golem Magic, it would be different.

It was so difficult that he would only succeed two or three times out of ten. All advanced magic seemed to have that level of difficulty.

“All advanced magic is remarkable, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

Intermediate magic was nothing special.

It was just about taking out two or three with a single spell.

With a slightly longer spell, he might be able to take out ten. But that was the limit.

From advanced magic, the power of spells leaped up several levels.

Just with Ice Spear, the number of people killed at once was dozens, as a baseline.

If he dropped it in a densely packed area, he wondered if he could even wipe out an entire infantry unit.

“The imagination you have to conjure in your mind becomes difficult. It’s not easy to accept such a magnificent sight naturally. You need an imagination much more robust than what I told you last time. So you can’t help but fail before solidifying a proper mental image.”

The Shaman’s expression was calm.

It was as if he was asking about something obvious.

“That’s only when I can cast the spell, isn’t it? But I can’t cast the spell like before.”

“You haven’t broken the Wall. You still have a long way to go, Beggar. It’s amazing that someone at your level managed to cast a spell on their own even once.”

“Ah.”

That was right.

The Protagonist was still an intermediate Mage.

Having learned without thinking, he hadn’t fully considered it.

What the other person taught him was advanced Magic.

The Protagonist wasn’t even a skilled intermediate Mage yet.

It was Magic far too advanced for him to properly learn.

Originally, he shouldn’t have been able to cast it at all.

That was correct.

It was remarkable that he even attempted it.

This was just the beginning.

It was important that he had managed to perform advanced Magic even once.

Now, the priority was to recall that sensation and increase the probability of casting Castle.

“Even a skilled advanced Mage sometimes only manages to cast Castle once after ten attempts. It’s that difficult.”

Unlike intermediate Magic, from that stage upwards, there was a chance of failure. It seemed to be because it was such powerful Magic.

The Shaman said that no Mage practices solidifying their imagery so early.

He also said that if he continued like this, he would be able to use Magic with almost no chance of failure once he became an advanced Mage.

He focused solely on casting the spell smoothly.

It felt as if heavy stones were tied all over his body.

Even to take a single step forward, he had to exert all his strength. That’s how difficult it was to cast the spell.

The Shaman was generous with his advice.

It was incredibly convenient to have him speak up whenever the Protagonist got stuck. Things that would have required long contemplation if he were alone were resolved instantly, and a direction was set.

It felt like this was what it would be like to have a master.

“When you concentrate on one thing, distractions disappear. Remember the moment the Protagonist succeeded.”

The moment I succeeded.

It was tough last time. But I didn’t give up. Everything was forgotten in the fatigue of body and mind.

There were others too. Ice Spear and Blizzard. When I told the story of that time, the Shaman seemed a bit like a Gnoll.

The fact that he also received a Blessing was something a Gnoll would do.

The Shaman was also a Water Mage. But he didn’t believe in gods. The Mages of This Place didn’t often believe in gods.

“You were probably incredibly angry then. You only thought of killing your opponent. Or you thought you had to survive.”

The Shaman said that after I told him what happened during the Goblin incident. Thinking about it, he was right.

The Protagonist got angry. He also thought he had to fight.

This time, I couldn’t think of anything either.

They all had something in common. It was that they focused on only one thing.

The Shaman called that state Selflessness, or Absorption.

“That’s why the Magic didn’t fail. We call that Selflessness. A state where you focus on one thing so much that you forget the Protagonist. Those who can enter that state whenever they wish are called Advanced Mages. Beyond that, those who always embody that state are called Great Mages. They are those who have no emotional fluctuations even at the moment of death.”

“Are you also a Great Mage?”

“I gave up before the Seven Steps. I was a Beggar who couldn’t reach that far.”

The Shaman’s words were calm. But he looked very sad. He showed an expression as if he had realized his limits.

I didn’t quite understand what the Seven Steps he spoke of meant. It seemed like there were certain stages. The Shaman didn’t teach me that far.

Still, I knew that the Protagonist still had a long way to go.

I had to work harder. I had a Protagonist feeling that if I learned from the Shaman, I would master it before long.

It felt even more so because my progress was much faster than when I learned alone.

That day too, after training, I went to sleep when the sun set.

My daily routine was nothing special.

I only trained.

Unlike before, I found it interesting because I felt myself becoming a Castle.

It was a sensation I could never experience alone.

Time passed.

I counted the days.

A month had passed. It was still not enough. I kept chanting spells, holding my head every day, but I couldn’t perform magic.

I remembered engraving the mana circuit on the magic stone. It was much harder than that. Back then, if I got tired in the middle, I could rest and continue.

But a spell had to be chanted all at once.

I couldn’t lose focus even for a moment.

The shaman said it didn’t even matter.

He said that even if there was no progress, all the effort would accumulate, and at some point, I would advance a few steps.

It was a bit frustrating right now, but the protagonist was making progress.

I wanted to try Ice Spear again.

It would be great if I could use it whenever I wanted.

I gritted my teeth.

That day, too, I woke up early in the morning.

Orcs had a strong stench. Even that, I was slowly getting used to. I shook out my robe once and put it on. I went outside and looked around.

Orcs were roaming around. A battle was about to break out. I turned my head. An old orc came out of the hut.

An axe was clutched in his hand.

As I watched him, someone spoke to me.

It was the shaman, who had arrived unnoticed.

“Getting old is sad. I can’t chew meat like I used to, and my heart feels tight when I wake up in the morning. I worry about how many days I have left to see the sun.”

“What are you suddenly talking about?”

“I’m telling you to watch him. Then you can get what you want.”

“Are you telling me to go to the battlefield?”

“Shouldn’t you be practicing magic? This stage is perfect for you. There are no books or duties. Think of it as practicing magic. If you succeed, it helps your kin, which is good for me. You succeed with your magic, which is good for you. It’s a mutually beneficial proposal.”

I nodded.

I was itching for action anyway.

More than anything, the shaman’s proposal resonated with me. The protagonist already regarded him as something close to a mentor.

The disciple could not disobey his master’s words.

I took the Golem out after a long time.

I put the Shaman, who was trying to walk, on the Golem’s palm. Fortunately, he seemed to endure the Golem’s Cold Energy.

“The scenery is nice.”

“Isn’t it?”

Protagonist also got on the palm.

The Golem followed the Warriors with two Mages on its palms. The Golem’s footsteps continued until the distant, muddy swamp boiled.

I saw Lizardmen after a long time.

It was a considerably large Battlefield. For the Lizardmen, the swamp was their fortress. The Orcs invaded it.

It was when the sun was rising.

Grak was also seen. There were also many Orcs I hadn’t seen before.

I took a position on a Hill quite far from where the Warriors were clashing.

I got down on the ground and chanted a spell.

I left the Golem nearby.

The Orcs didn’t seem like they would protect Protagonist. Just in case, I had to protect myself.

I chanted a spell.

It was worse than when I was training at the Orcs Settlement.

My concentration kept breaking.

It seemed to be because it was a Battlefield.

I was afraid that Lizardmen would appear around and attack. I even imagined being hit by a spear or an Arrow they threw. It was a terrifying imagination.

That imagination interfered with my concentration.

Using Magic in a real battle was even more difficult.

I couldn’t even cast spells in an empty place, but in a Battlefield where castles were exchanged, I couldn’t even continue. I wondered if this was even possible.

Even without explicitly using Magic, Mana slowly decreased just by the process of chanting spells.

When I came to my senses, the Mana in my stomach was completely empty.

He lowered the hand holding the staff.

The Shaman, who had been silently watching, spoke.

“Have you used up all your mana?”

“Yes.”

“It’s still difficult to go into Absorption. There’s a long way to go.”

“Isn’t there a good way?”

“You just have to get used to it, like memorizing a simple Magic spell.”

It meant there were no shortcuts.

He still felt lost, wondering when he would be able to cast advanced Magic spells freely.

“Mages are vulnerable when casting spells. You never know when a stray Arrow might fly in and take your life.”

There were always variables on the Battlefield. Even if a Mage was in the back, they could still die.

“If you can cast great Magic while worrying about that, you can become a skilled Mage.”

“What’s a skilled Mage? Not even a great Mage.”

“It means better than an ordinary Mage.”

The Shaman looked at him with a slightly proud expression. He suddenly collapsed to the ground and started coughing. Blood stained the blades of grass on the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It seems my body is like a Gnoll after being out in the fresh air for a long time.”

“Let’s go back.”

“No. There’s still something I need to see.”

“Something you need to see?”

“Watch the Warriors’ fight.”

Before he knew it, the battle had passed its midpoint and was heading towards its conclusion.

The Orcs fought valiantly.

Holding their axes, they opened their mouths wide and let out powerful war cries. They were war cries full of strength. Goosebumps rose on his body.

He rolled his eyes.

Grak was also visible on one side. He seemed to have grown stronger during that time, showing no hesitation. His axe swings also seemed faster.

It was an insignificant change.

However, he knew that even a slight increase in speed, which was already fast, required immense effort.

“Are you looking at the young Chieftains?”

“Yes.”

“They are full of vigor. In their prime, even if they get injured, they quickly heal and rush into the Battlefield. They make everything their own and grow rapidly. That Youth naturally draws attention.”

“It seems so.”

There were many Orcs fighting on the Battlefield.

But the sight of YuPoison Grak fighting caught his eye.

Being young, he fought without holding back, and his voice was full of power. Even when he tried not to look, his head naturally turned.

“Now, look over there.”

He turned his head.

The place the Shaman’s finger pointed to was being pushed back by the Lizardmen. It seemed like the older Warriors were gathered there.

Their combat was unimpressive.

There was a strong feeling that they were struggling to move their creaking bodies. They weren’t pushing with brute force like the young Orcs.

When strength was lacking, they relied on seasoned skill. Their slowed bodies endured by leveraging experience.

It was more sad than impressive.

It was as if they were struggling.

“Look at the vanguard.”

“The vanguard?”

At the forefront was an old Orc.

It was the Orc holding the Statue.

Despite looking the oldest, he showed incredible tenacity.

He had surprising strength for his age, and his skill with an axe was astounding. The Protagonist thought he was probably the best axe-wielder among all the Orcs he had seen.

But that was it.

He was too old.

Every time he swung his axe, his body slowed down to a boil.

“That friend is one of the strongest among the Orcs.”

“I don’t really think so?”

“He used to be, you mean. Now he’s too old, like me. Getting old is a very sad thing for a Warrior. Even if your body falters a little, you can’t perform at your best.”

“Why are you telling me to look at that?”

“I want you to learn desperation. If you can learn that, you will surely become a great Mage.”

The Shaman turned his head.

The Protagonist followed suit.

He didn’t quite understand what the Shaman said, but he realized that watching the old Orcs would help him improve his skills.

While they were talking, the battle had ended.

The old Orcs had achieved great accomplishments.

But he didn’t look happy.

He was panting for breath.

Orcs are known for their excellent stamina.

Among those Orcs, a Warrior who wielded an axe better than an average Chieftain was drooling and gasping for breath.

It was pathetic.

The hand holding the axe was trembling incessantly. Young Orcs didn’t tremble even after fighting all day.

“Why…”

The old Orcs lifted his head. He seemed to be looking at the sky. Perhaps he was glaring at the Warrior’s god, who might be watching this Battlefield.

“Why do you give Old Age to a Warrior?”

“…”

“Moltan. I have done whatever you desired. Youth. Just give me Youth. Why… why did you give me Old Age? It would have been better if I had grown old and died early like others. Why do you make me live so long and suffer like this?”

“…”

“Why did you make me live so long without giving me power? I don’t have any more time…”

The old Orcs raised his head and sighed.

The surviving Lizardmen were retreating.

The young Warriors let out a mighty roar. Some even grabbed the enemy’s spear and raised it high. Everyone was singing with excitement.

Amidst them, only the old Warrior bowed his head and sobbed.

“That friend has lived for three hundred years.”

“Three hundred years…”

“Can you be more desperate than that?”

The Shaman said, looking at the Warrior.

I couldn’t answer.