Frieren looked at Rakan.
“The intensity of your offensive magic…
your progress is quite remarkable.”
“It started improving back when we defeated Qual,” Rakan replied vaguely.
“I’ve finally finished assimilating everything I gained from that encounter.”
Frieren studied him for a few seconds before pondering, “And this time?
Did you gain anything?”
“Let me check.” Rakan walked over to the two blue boxes and reached out to open them.
A blue light suddenly flared.
*Wait, it’s blue?
Is it because my output wasn’t high enough last time to get high-quality rewards from a gold box, but this time, since I dealt all the damage for the kill, the reward matches the chest quality?*
[Einsam Mana Cultivation Accumulation (Twenty Years)] [Quality: Blue] [The essence of an Einsam’s mana cultivation, equivalent to twenty years of progress.] [Origin: Collision World H-07]
[Phantom Magic (Essence)] [Quality: Blue] [Upon use, allows the user to comprehend the magic ‘Phantom Reconstruction.’ It can read crucial memory fragments from a target and use them to create illusory images of corresponding people.
Read depth and duration are influenced by the caster’s Intelligence.] [Origin: Collision World H-07]
Rakan stared at the description, his heart pounding wildly.
*Phantom Magic…
creating illusions?*
No, the “creating illusions” part wasn’t the point.
The point was “reading the target’s crucial memory fragments.”
To read memories—the true value of this magic didn’t lie in using phantoms to deceive enemies.
To gather information on a target, he wouldn’t need to interrogate or torture them.
He would only need a single spell to uncover their hidden secrets.
For someone who intended to travel the Myriad Realms in the future, the utility of this was incredibly high.
Rakan took a deep breath, suppressing his excitement.
Compared to Edel, who appeared in the First-Class Mage Exam and could read a century of memories, this spell was smaller in scale, but it was still excellent.
Rakan chose to use them immediately.
The two items merged into his palms, turning into a stream of cool energy that surged up his arms and finally poured into his brain.
Countless pieces of knowledge, techniques, and insights regarding Phantom Magic flooded his consciousness.
How to manipulate mana to simulate neural signals, how to capture memory fluctuations, how to weave fragmented information into coherent illusions…
His status panel updated.
[Phantom Magic lv.1] Intelligence: 10 → 12
As expected, looting drops after killing monsters was much faster than traditional cultivation.
“Rakan,” Frieren’s voice drifted over.
“How is it?”
Rakan turned around and gave Frieren and Fern a calm smile.
“Phantom Magic.
Want to learn it?
I can teach you.”
“How mysterious.
Perhaps bringing you along was a good choice after all,” Frieren said with a faint smile.
“Teach me after lunch.”
The three of them found a flat rock and sat down.
The mountain wind blew past, dispersing the slightly chilly thick mist.
Rakan checked his mental template to see his growth, then looked toward the northern sky.
There would be plenty of opportunities to kill monsters and loot drops on the road ahead.
“Let’s go,” Frieren said, standing up.
“Continuing onward.”
Rakan stood up as well and shouldered his luggage.
The mountain path ahead was still long, but Rakan felt a bit more motivated to grow stronger.
In the Central Lands, after leaving the Wille Region, the terrain gradually rose as the road wound into the Riegel Canyon to the east.
Tall, tan rock walls loomed on both sides, looking like burning ramparts under the afternoon sun.
A dry wind whistled through the valley, carrying the scent of grit.
The wind in Riegel Canyon was dry and sharp.
Frieren led the group as they hid in the brush, her gaze fixed on the massive deep-red silhouette atop a rocky platform within the valley.
The dragon’s scales shimmered with a mirror-like luster under the midday sun, as if it had encased the entire sky within its armor.
“A Solar Dragon,” she said softly, her tone as flat as if she were commenting on the weather.
My offensive magic will hardly be effective.”
Rakan’s heart skipped a beat.
Not out of fear, but excitement.
Western fantasy, another world, dragon slaying!
This was exactly the kind of experience he had been waiting for.
He narrowed his eyes, looking past the giant dragon toward the nest beneath the rock wall behind it.
Dragons loved to collect items with mana to build their nests.
To an ordinary person, it looked like a messy pile of magical materials.
But in his eyes, the depths of the nest were emitting shimmering glints of light that only a “Collision World Player” could see—white, green, and even a few streaks of blue.
Though the quality wasn’t exceptionally high, the quantity was staggering, like an unmined treasure vault.
On the surface of the pile, a thick grimoire lay on a clean rock, the patterns on its cover reflecting a warm light.
“A grimoire…
I really want that.
Do you two want to try taking a shot at it?” Frieren asked.
Fern took the lead.
With a defensive spell deployed in front of her, she fired a tentative mana beam at the Solar Dragon.
The moment the beam touched the dragon’s scales, it was like a water droplet hitting a red-hot iron plate.
With a sizzle, it slid off and scattered, leaving only faint marks on the rock wall while the scales remained completely unharmed.
Rakan also raised his staff.
He exerted his full strength, pouring mana into it.
The blue-white pillar of light was denser and faster than before, streaking straight for the dragon’s neck—a relatively weak point for many creatures.
But the Solar Dragon didn’t even dodge.
The light pillar hit, and the luster on the scales flashed intensely.
Rakan saw with his own eyes that his strongest offensive spell was like hitting an invisible curved mirror.
The mana was eerily twisted and split, splashing out along the patterns of the scales.
The dragon merely shook its head slightly; not even a scratch was left where it had been hit.
“Magic-resistant” was an understatement.
Rakan immediately turned to follow Frieren’s retreating footsteps, not forgetting to pull along the dazed Fern.
However, his mind was racing.
*Magic is ineffective?*
Incensed by the repeated harassment, the Solar Dragon let out a low roar, flared its wings, and dove toward them, bringing a cloud of sand and stone with it.
The three fought as they retreated, relying on their flight magic and the complex terrain to finally lose their pursuer.
“Let’s head to the nearby village,” Frieren said, smoothing her slightly ruffled sleeves, her breathing steady.
“Eisen mentioned he has a disciple there.
Our party needs a vanguard.”
The village sat at a wind-sheltered pass in the canyon, consisting of low stone houses and curling chimney smoke.
Not long after they entered the village, an elderly woman with white hair greeted them warmly and offered to take them to Stark, leading them toward the back of the village.
Beside a massive crack in the stone wall, a red-haired youth was crouching on the ground, poking at something with two village children.
The sunlight fell on an old scar on his left forehead.
His smile was a bit timid, yet clean.
“Stark!
I brought the people who provoked the dragon!” the old woman shouted.
The red-haired youth, Stark, looked up.
His smile froze the moment he saw Rakan.
His gaze changed instantly.
He naturally stepped sideways, shielding the old woman and the children behind him.
His voice was intentionally light.
“Granny, take the kids back to get something to eat first.
I have some business here.”
The old woman said nothing and quickly led the children away.
Only after their figures disappeared into the woods did Stark slowly turn around.
The fake smile on his face had vanished, replaced by the tension of a warrior facing a threat.
His sharp gaze locked onto Rakan, his right hand already quietly gripping the greataxe on his back.
He lowered his center of gravity, settling into an impeccable defensive stance.
“What is the meaning of this?
Why are you traveling with a monster?”
The air instantly froze.
Fern gripped her staff nervously.
Rakan could feel Stark’s presence like a fully drawn bow, completely locked onto him.
If he made even the slightest suspicious move, a thunderous strike would descend.
This feeling of being enveloped by the killing intent of a true warrior was more direct and dangerous than facing the Corrupted Sage.
Frieren blinked, seemingly just realizing the situation.
She took a step forward, her tone as casual as if she were introducing the weather.
“I am the mage Frieren.
Eisen said I could find you here.”
She pointed at Rakan.
“His situation is special.
I’ve explained it to Eisen.
He’s under a contract, so you don’t need to be afraid.”
“Fri…
Frieren?” Stark’s tensed shoulders visibly relaxed.
His sharp gaze turned into bewilderment, followed by panic.
“Ah!
My—my master sent you to find me?
You’re that elf mage he always talks about.
But, this monster…”
“Don’t worry,” Frieren said, briefly explaining Rakan’s situation and introducing Fern.
With the misunderstanding cleared, Stark reverted to being a slightly awkward red-haired youth, scratching his head and apologizing repeatedly.
The conversation finally returned to the “main track.” Frieren explained their purpose, and as soon as Stark heard they were dealing with the Solar Dragon, his head shook like a rattle.
“No way, no way!
That’s a dragon!
Master taught me, but I’ve never actually fought a monster before!” His face went pale, his hands unconsciously wringing together.
“Last time it came to the village, I just…
I just stood there, and it flew away…
It must have been a fluke!”
Rakan observed quietly from the side.
This was the other side of Stark.
Because he lacked actual combat experience against monsters and had no realization of his own strength, his fear was magnified infinitely.
Just then, the sound of cluttered footsteps approached.
Dozens of young and middle-aged men from the village appeared, carrying pitchforks, hatchets, and even hoes.
They gathered nervously, faintly surrounding Frieren’s group, their eyes wary.
“Stark!
Are you okay?” shouted the middle-aged man in the lead.
“Granny said some strangers came, and you looked like you were in trouble!”
Stark was stunned for a moment, and then his face flooded with complex emotions—surprise, gratitude, and a hint of panic.
“Everyone!
It’s a misunderstanding!
A misunderstanding!” He quickly ran in front of the villagers, spreading his arms to explain.
“This is Lady Frieren, a friend of my master!
They aren’t enemies!”
As he clumsily but urgently explained, the villagers finally lowered their weapons, though they remained skeptical.
Rakan saw that the gaze many people directed at Stark was filled with undisguised trust and respect.
This timid, crybaby youth—by virtue of that “dragon repelling” incident three years ago that even he was confused by—had long since become the village’s true symbol of protection.
Frieren watched this scene silently.
Once the commotion died down, she spoke.
“In that case, I’ll give you one night to think about it.
You only need to hold it off for thirty seconds.”
Without waiting for Stark’s reaction, she turned and walked away with Fern and Rakan.