Translator: CinderTL “From farm work,” Zellier replied truthfully.
“Oh?
You’re from a farming family?” Gray’s interest was piqued.
He continued working with his hands, but couldn’t resist chatting.
“I thought you were some runaway young master trying out the common life…
By the way, aren’t mages supposed to be wealthy?
Scrolls, wands, robes—they cost a fortune each.” “There are exceptions now and then…” Zellier pursed his lips.
According to the memories Zellier had inherited, the original owner’s background wasn’t particularly remarkable—just a poor peasant from the kingdom’s border.
From birth, Zellier and his parents had spent their days working the fields, living a life of toiling under the sun.
After paying taxes each year, the harvest was barely enough to feed themselves.
But everything changed when Zellier was seven years old.
It was a typical summer afternoon.
The farm work wasn’t too demanding, and his father, for once, didn’t urge Zellier to continue.
Instead, he allowed him to rest beneath the old locust tree at the edge of the field.
The cicadas buzzed loudly, and the distant air shimmered with heat.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow.
Everything was the same as any other day, so ordinary it made one drowsy.
Zellier lay on his back in the grass, his eyes half-closed as he watched the leaves sway gently in the breeze, utterly bored.
But in that instant, the world transformed before his eyes.
This wasn’t a visual change, but an ineffable shift in perception.
He saw the wind—no longer invisible, but as strands of pale azure threads.
He heard the earth—a deep, steady hum resonating like a heartbeat.
He felt the light—countless golden particles dancing in the sunlight above, warm and gentle.
Then, an irresistible, colossal force erupted, dragging Zellier’s consciousness into the boundless darkness of the cosmos.
At the center of this void floated a faint point of light.
Curiosity overcame his fear.
As his consciousness tentatively approached the light, the seed sensed his gaze and pulsed gently.
Brilliant light flowed forth like a gushing spring, carrying an extraordinary power.
This power was called mana.
Zellier had awakened his source seed.
When Zellier’s consciousness returned to reality, his heart pounded uncontrollably, and his breathing grew rapid.
For a farm child, age seven meant no longer being a mere toddler who only knew how to play in the mud.
He had to learn to distinguish good crops from bad, and under his father’s harsh scolding, he had to shoulder a hoe half his height with his still-undeveloped, slender shoulders.
Zellier’s life should have been filled with soil and sweat, and he should have grown into a dark, silent farmer like his father.
But he sensed there was another path, a different way he could take.
That path was called “mage.” For the next nine years, Zellier’s life was divided into two parts.
One part remained the son of a poor farmer toiling in the fields, while the other was a seeker filled with grand dreams.
Zellier began to use every moment of his free time to teach himself.
He would go to town, painstakingly gathering information about magic.
When a bard with a lute visited the village, Zellier would pester them with questions about mages.
With the savings he had accumulated over several years, he bought a tattered scroll containing the formula structure of a spell.
After continuous meditation and practice, he finally mastered the fireball spell.
That year, Zellier was sixteen.
The flame that erupted from his palm filled him with indescribable excitement.
But it was also the year the king raised taxes, plunging the people into misery and despair.
Zellier’s parents, who had toiled their entire lives, finally succumbed to the crushing weight and both died.
After burying his parents, Zellier sat by the edge of the field, leaning against the old locust tree and lost in thought for a long time.
He could have inherited the land his parents had poured their hearts into and continued as a farmer.
But in the end, he decided to take his meager savings and embark on an adventurer’s journey, unburdened by any ties.
Everyone has to try living a different way at some point.
Seeing Zellier’s downcast expression, Gray thought his words had upset him and nudged him with his elbow.
“Don’t mind me…
I was just rambling.
You can save up slowly if you don’t have money.
You showed some real talent when you used magic earlier—you’ll succeed.” “Thank you.” Zellier smiled kindly and fell silent, continuing to grip the hide firmly to assist Gray.
Skinning and cleaning the corpses took most of the night.
The wolf carcasses were tossed into a nearby deep pit to rot.
Fortunately, these wild wolves were the dominant predators in the area, and all other carnivores kept their distance out of fear.
Even with the thick smell of blood at the camp, no other scavengers were attracted.
Since Marcus and Gray had done most of the fighting, Vales was assigned the night watch duty.
The night passed without incident.
When Zellier opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the crisp chirping of birds outside the tent.
Thin slivers of sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tent flap.
Dawn had broken.
“Ah…” Zellier rubbed his eyes and sat up.
The bunk beside him was empty, and he could faintly hear Gray and Marcus talking outside.
He hadn’t slept well.
As it was his first day after transmigrating, a jumble of chaotic dreams had woven together, leaving him restless and uneasy.
I still need time to accept this…
Zellier scratched his disheveled hair and instinctively checked his status panel.
Strength: 65 Agility: 60 Constitution: 68 Spirit: 71 Intelligence: 66 Perception: 30 Charm: 45 Luck: 41 Apart from the four points of spirit he had gained last night, his other attributes remained unchanged.
Under “Formulaic Evolution,” the analysis progress for the Great Creation Art was still stuck at 0%.
Seeing this, Zellier couldn’t help but frown.
What exactly is this Great Creation Art?
Never mind…
I’ll ask the Mage’s Guild, the official magic organization, about it later.
After all, the original owner’s memories of magic were rather shallow.
There’s still so much I need to uncover on my own.
Zellier lifted the curtain, and a cool morning breeze greeted him.
The air in the forest was crisp and fresh, mingled with the fragrant scent of plants, which invigorated his spirit.
After a quick wash, Zellier caught the toasted black bread Gray tossed to him and dipped it in the hot soup.
The bread was quite tough; it could barely be swallowed after being softened by the soup.
Chewing it dry would probably be impossible.
Moreover, the taste couldn’t compare to the baked goods he remembered from his past life, and it lacked even a hint of sweetness.
It would suffice to fill his stomach.
According to Marcus’s arrangements, the team was scheduled to leave Graywood Forest today and return to the Adventurer’s Association in Blackstone Town to submit the wild wolf extermination quest.
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