“Damn it!
Why didn’t I think of snowboards?
I read too many books.” The moment Kent took a few steps onto the endless white plain, he slapped his thigh hard and cursed himself loudly.
He quickly went back to the stable, found a piece of wood, and held it up for comparison.
“This board is too thick—what now?” Kent stared at the palm-sized plank in his hand, utterly helpless.
“Hmm… wind blades seem sharp enough.” Kent sat on a hay bale inside the stable and thought for a long time.
Since all the tools were inside the cave not far away, the only idea that came to mind was the first-rank wind blade from the wind system.
“Boom!” Kent silently released a wind blade.
It sliced through the thick wooden board in an instant, leaving two clean pieces.
“Ow!
That’s like a micro assault rifle!” Kent stared at the shattered wood in astonishment.
“Slow down!
Slow down!” Kent forced himself to control the output of his mana.
He wanted to recreate the feeling he had when casting a small fireball.
He needed the wind blade to hover in his hand so he could perfectly manage both the mana flow and spiritual control.
Every single time, the wind blade would shoot out the moment he finished the chant.
But Kent didn’t give up.
He knew the four words: practice makes perfect.
Only through endless repetition could he achieve what he wanted.
“Ah ha!
That’s it!” Kent discovered that the wind blade finally stayed in his hand for a full second.
He shouted in delight.
After more than an hour of continuous effort, he had finally found a trace of the feeling he wanted.
He quickly seized that tiny sliver of success and kept training.
“If anyone knew that a mage had spent forty-plus times in a row just casting wind blades on a single piece of wood, they’d probably think he was crazy.
But I think that’s the price of genius.” Niu Niu watched Kent’s movements from a short distance.
The moment Kent stepped out of the cave, she had followed him.
After all, she was worried this kid might have some kind of suicidal crisis.
Turns out she had completely misjudged him.
Until one day when Niu Niu asked him the question, Kent answered very seriously: “Suicide is fine if it’s instant death, but if you end up paralyzed or screaming for half a day before you finally die, how the hell am I supposed to endure that pain?
Besides, I’m terrified of dying, so why would I kill myself?”
Boom!
“Then you should’ve told me earlier!
I was freezing in the snow for several hours!” Niu Niu shouted.
A big lump had already formed on Kent’s head.
“Hmm… that’s about the right feeling.
Just a little bump is fine.” Kent looked at the wooden board in his hands.
The two ends were now slightly upturned, and the bottom was perfectly smooth—just like a snowboard from Earth.
“Ugh!
Damn it!
How am I supposed to ride up a slope?” Only now did Kent realize the biggest problem.
How was he supposed to get the board moving uphill?
He couldn’t just throw it away—it was the fruit of his own hard work.
Helpless, he shouldered the board and continued the exact same movements as before, only now with an extra burden.
“After you eat, read the continental overview.
Tomorrow we start alchemy.
In half a month, you’ll forge a proper alchemical product.
The tools are all in my bag.” Niu Niu bit down hard on her fruit, her voice muffled with dissatisfaction.
Kent nodded and set out to walk back up the mountain.
Kent didn’t care where the stuff came from.
By the time he’d thought it through, he already knew the answer.
He sneered inwardly.
Adult grass spirits have the intelligence of children.
This little brat is smarter than me, and it’s a fake product to boot.
Boom!
Niu Niu sensed the insult and hurled a fruit pit straight at Kent’s head.
Kent quickly chewed some dried meat and drank a mouthful of hot water, then lit a candle made of top-grade beef tallow.
As for its origin, Kent never bothered to ask.
“Mages are a very rare and noble profession.
In the entire world, you might not even find one official mage in ten thousand people…” Kent opened the book he’d just bought.
This was the introduction the mage guild printed in Harri City.
Of course it began with the occupation itself.
“Wow?
Mages aren’t cabbage?” Kent’s eyes widened.
He hadn’t expected a mage to carry such a high status.
“Cabbage?
What cabbage?” Niu Niu asked, puzzled.
“Cabbage is a vegetable farmers eat all winter long,” Kent explained.
Niu Niu was furious.
Mages are everywhere now?
She demanded, “Then why do you think that?”
“Because I can pick up magic books everywhere.
I thought it was a common profession… in the game, anyway?” Kent was imagining this world the way he imagined Earth—choices, not pure talent.
“I’ll tell you.
Across the entire continent there are fewer than 1,500 mages in total.
Low-rank ones (1–4) make up about 60 %, mid-rank (5–7) make up 30 %, and the rest—8–9 rank—are under 10 %.
And the entire human population of the continent exceeds 50 billion.
Understand?” Niu Niu explained loudly.
She’d read it herself.
She could read these words only because of the soul contract with Kent.
If he ever learned that, he would definitely complain: “They forgot the well when they took the water!
The world is declining!
Morality is rotting!”
“Oh.
What about tenth-rank?” Kent asked curiously.
“Tenth-rank is the legendary mage.
They no longer take part in mortal affairs.
Those old fossils don’t care about your little problems anymore.
Fine, fine—go read it yourself.” Niu Niu waved him off, irritated.
“The Double Star Continent has countless wise races: fierce beastmen, stubborn dwarves, crude barbarians, elegant and beautiful elves…” Kent read on steadily.
The world’s name was the Double Star Continent.
The name came from the two enormous planets that were always visible—day or night.
They were so massive that Kent could see the lakes, forests, mountains, seas, snow-capped peaks, and deserts in crystal-clear detail.
Even someone who had studied satellite maps on Earth could tell plains from rivers and huge cloud layers.
Kent often gazed upward and thought he was inside a spaceship rather than another world.
He also noticed that the two planets orbited the same star as this one, and all three lay on roughly the same orbital plane.
Otherwise, after months here, they would have had regular eclipses.
The middle of the Double Star Continent was human territory.
To the west lay the Great Dark Forest, home to countless magical beasts.
The elves had their paradise to the southwest, while the dwarves thrived in the far north.
Farther east stretched the vast highlands—beastmen and barbaric human territory.
To the north lay the eternal frozen tundra, and to the south the endless ocean.
Few humans lived near the sea; locals spoke of a six-month “Giant Wave Period” when waves rose dozens of meters high.
“Humph.
If the planets are this close, it’s no wonder the oceans get those massive waves,” Kent thought.
On Earth the tides were caused by the moon; here the two giant worlds orbiting the same star probably created even stronger effects.
Only rivers had proper ports.
In the open sea, magical beasts and intelligent races swarmed by the thousands.
Humans now ruled three great empires.
The Light Empire and Dark Empire were mortal enemies, but the Alliance Empire was the strongest by far.
The Alliance worshipped freedom of belief; its temples, guilds, and trade organizations numbered in the hundreds.
The empire was governed by parliament and the Elder Council—fifteen wise elders who checked each other’s power.
The system had endured for ten thousand years.
The Dark Empire followed the Lord of Shadows; the Light Empire worshipped the God of Light.
The three nations formed irregular ellipses across the continent.
The Alliance controlled roughly forty-five percent; the Light and Dark Empires split the rest equally.
Kent’s location lay in the Alliance Empire, backed by the eternal frozen tundra, bordered by the Great Dark Forest to the west and the Beastman Empire to the east.
Between the two lay the famous Rham River—a massive canyon carved by glacial meltwater.
It began in the northern ice fields, marked the border between the Alliance and Beastman Empire, then flowed through the Light Empire before emptying into the sea.
Only a single fortress stood on the plain near the Light Empire border, guarding both sides.
Harri City—Kent’s home—was the third province of the Resh Duchy, one of the Alliance’s twelve principalities, and the closest human settlement to the frozen north.
The book Kent had bought covered only the Alliance Empire.
A few short lines mentioned the other two.
Occupations were endless: mage, warrior, archer, thief, assassin, poet, smith, and so on.
Mages and warriors each reached ten ranks.
A mage’s first-rank badge was a six-pointed star on a staff; the second had two stars, and so on.
At eighth rank the staff turned silver-white, without stars.
Ninth rank was gold.
Tenth rank had no badge described.
Warriors used greatswords instead.
Thieves carried a key, assassins a throwing knife, smiths a hammer, archers a bow—each occupation had its own emblem.
The mercenary guild’s emblem was a simple lettered plaque (A, B, C, D, E, etc.).
Kent had just finished reading when he heard noise from below.
He hurried to the cave mouth.
“Damn it!
You dared to touch something a mage owns?” Kent saw movement in the stable.
Footprints in the snow suggested a powerful creature had entered.
He cursed loudly, grabbed the snowboard, and charged downhill.