The next day.
After finishing breakfast, Rhett wandered around the estate.
He happened to see Ellie and a boy of the sa age walking together from outside the manor. The two were chatting and laughing, full of energy, and drenched in sweat—clearly just back from a physical training session.
When they saw Rhett, their smiles quickly faded, and they greeted him respectfully.
"Good morning, Lord Rhett!" Ellie and Mud bowed in unison.
"Hehe, good morning to you both."
Rhett smiled and nodded at them as he walked past. He knew the boy was Otto, Kudin's youngest son.
Back then, Otto didn’t show any talent for training and wasn’t physically strong enough to work as a servant in the castle.
But to keep his promise, Rhett had Svetta arrange for Otto to beco a retainer, just like Ellie—undergoing daily physical training until adulthood and helping with odd jobs around the estate during his free ti.
Leaving the inner castle, Rhett walked to the entrance of the training ground.
He wanted to see how McCoffe was doing as a ntor.
That morning, a light mist hung in the air.
A breeze blew through, stirring the mist and refreshing Rhett’s spirit as the dampness hit him.
Whoosh
At that mont, a gentle wind swept across the middle of the training ground, dispersing the surrounding fog in ripples.
The surroundings beca clear.
McCoffe was dressed in a loose white robe, holding a staff. In front of him stood Tyrus and Unica side by side.
Now that Tyrus had beco an apprentice mage, even though he aspired to be an alchemist, he still had to set aside ti every day for magic training.
Under Unica’s admiring gaze, McCoffe chuckled and said,
"Unica, I didn’t use magic just now—only basic elental manipulation to create a breeze and disperse the mist. Once you’ve grown, you’ll be able to do this easily too. For now, let’s test your elental affinity, or in simpler terms, your talent."
"Yay!" Unica’s eyes curved into crescents as she smiled, excited by the thought of becoming as strong as her ntor. "What should I do to test my talent?" she asked eagerly.
"Since you’ve been ditating for over half a month, your ntal strength has increased slightly. Try sensing the elents around you and find the one that’s most concentrated. Let know which one it is," McCoffe instructed, looking down at the girl who barely reached his waist.
"Okay, let try, ntor McCoffe." Unica nodded seriously.
She then closed her eyes, ditating and using her recently strengthened ntal power to carefully sense her surroundings.
Tyrus, feeling bored, also gave it a try. He sensed countless tiny black dots floating around him, visible only through ntal perception—elents that existed sowhere between reality and illusion.
The black dots were dark elents, mixed with occasional red, blue, green, and white ones—elents he had little affinity for.
A few minutes later, Unica opened her eyes and hesitantly said, "ntor McCoffe, I… think I sensed so blue dots."
"Oh? Blue dots? A water mage like Rayleigh?" Tyrus thought, surprised.
"If you saw blue dots, that ans you sensed water elents," McCoffe said, his eyes lighting up with joy.
He wasn’t happy because of her water affinity—every elent had its strengths. What thrilled him was that after just half a month of ditation, she could already sense the elents, indicating that her talent wasn’t low. At the very least, she wasn’t stuck with a lower-tier talent.
He asked, "How many dots did you see?"
"Over a hundred!"
"Over a hundred?" McCoffe’s eyes widened in surprise.
In this world, thods for evaluating magical talent had developed over a long history.
Aside from alchemical tools that could directly asure talent, people had devised experience-based thods for estimating talent over the centuries.
Generally, after ditating for half a month, those who couldn’t sense any elents had lower-tier talent.
Those who could sense around fifty dots typically had lower-middle-tier talent.
If they sensed over a hundred dots, they were considered mid-tier talents.
Breaking three hundred dots would indicate upper-middle-tier talent.
And those who saw over a thousand dots had solid upper-tier talent.
As for the legendary perfect talent, where the dots were too nurous to count, McCoffe had only heard of it in stories.
Throughout history, those with perfect talent who didn’t et an untily end inevitably reached the saint rank. In reality, he had never encountered one.
"That’s right," Unica confird, then asked with anticipation, "ntor McCoffe, how is my talent?"
"Haha, not bad at all!" McCoffe laughed heartily, patting Unica’s brown hair. "I’d say you have mid-tier talent."
Tyrus felt both happy and pressured—his own dark elent talent was lower-middle-tier, and this little girl had just surpassed him.
"But I can’t give up! I’m destined to beco a great alchemist!" Tyrus cheered himself on ntally.
"Can I start learning magic now?" Unica asked, beaming with joy after hearing she had mid-tier talent.
"Not yet," McCoffe shook his head. "At least wait until you beco an apprentice mage. But if you keep ditating, you’ll probably be able to control water elents and create streams in a few months."
"I’ll work hard!"
"Tyrus, you’ve just beco an apprentice mage, so you also need to master the basic dark magic. Practice diligently to build a foundation for learning more complex spells as a full mage," McCoffe advised, turning to Tyrus with a smile.
"I’ve already started practicing. I think I’ll master Shadow Wave in another half month!" Tyrus confidently replied after a brief thought.
Rhett quietly watched from the doorway for a while, satisfied that everything was going well, then turned and left.
At East Eagle Logging Camp, the sound of hamrs, axes chopping wood, and workers shouting filled the misty air.
Rhett approached a simple wooden hut and looked through the unshielded window to see Kudin sitting with his back to him. Kudin had one leg propped up on the bed as he applied crushed moon grass juice to his thigh.
Rhett recognized the plant—common in the wild and often used by commoners to stop bleeding and speed up scabbing when injured.
"Kudin, are you hurt?" Rhett asked, one hand behind his back.
"Huh?" Kudin was startled, having not noticed anyone approaching. When he turned and saw Rhett, he quickly stood, bowing awkwardly and saying, "Good morning, Lord Rhett! I got a little hurt this morning, accidentally poked by a sharp piece of wood. But it’s nothing serious—I can still work."
"Hmm, you should be more careful," Rhett frowned slightly. "I suggest you rest for a week. Don’t worry—it’s a work injury, so your pay won’t be docked."
At the ntion of paid leave, Kudin’s expression brightened with excitent, and he bowed deeply, saying, "Thank you, Lord Rhett!"
Rhett nodded. "Once you’ve rested, start preparing for Thorn Village’s construction. Winter is ending, and the warm spring is the best ti to work."
"No problem, Lord Rhett!" Kudin replied, adding, "We’ve already started preparing—moving tools and pre-cut wood to the site. Once the weather warms up, we can begin imdiately!"
After giving Kudin a few more instructions, Rhett returned to the castle. He spent most of the rest of the day ditating.
That night, he eagerly waited.
The next day, December 20th.
In the early hours of the morning.
Crack, crack.
A faint sound ca from in front of him, like sothing splitting open.
Rhett, who had been ditating in bed, suddenly opened his eyes!
He hurried to the windowsill, where the moonlight revealed a lightning-shaped crack running across the Firefeather Hawk egg’s shell.
As excitent filled him,
Crack, crack.
Another crisp sound followed, and another crack appeared on the egg.
This second crack was wider than the first, and through it, Rhett could vaguely see a plump little chick inside, struggling to peck at the shell with its tiny beak.
When it grew tired of pecking, it began to ram the shell with its head and body.
Chirp, chirp.
The newborn chick’s cries weren’t the sharp, clear calls of a hawk but more like the weak chirps of a newly hatched chick.
Though faint, Rhett could feel the chick’s unyielding will and its thirst for life.
In the darkness, a faint fla seed to flicker within, as if it were determined to break through all obstacles and barriers in its path.
In a daze, Rhett found himself resonating with the chick’s resolve, feeling emboldened and fearless in the face of everything.
Perhaps it was a special bond they shared. With a gentle smile, Rhett stroked the egg’s shell and silently laughed.
He stood there, occasionally sprinkling fire essence onto the egg to nourish the hatching Firefeather Hawk.
Two hours later, the horizon began to lighten.
Rhett gazed at the first glimr of dawn, then looked back at the Firefeather Hawk egg.
By now, the shell had cracked like a spider’s web, with countless tiny fissures. Through these cracks, Rhett could glimpse the chick’s entire form.
As Rhett watched,
Suddenly, with a snap, a palm-sized piece of the shell broke away, and a small head pushed through.
Chirp, chirp, chirp.
A tiny head covered in dark red skin erged. Despite its powerful life force, the newborn beast appeared fearful in the unfamiliar environnt, instinctively raising its head and chirping.
As it chirped, it looked at the "giant" before it. From this figure, the Firefeather Hawk felt a faint sense of familiarity, the result of Rhett’s frequent interaction and feeding it fire essence.
It locked eyes with Rhett, who was also gazing at the shell.
Chirp, chirp.
The chick cried out again, recognizing the person in front of it as the first living being it saw after breaking free from its dark world, with a faint sense of familiarity.
Exhausted from hatching, the chick was now almost completely drained. It leaned against the shell to stand, too weak to move, and opened its beak, driven by hunger.
Seeing this, Rhett quickly poured so fire essence into his hand and brought it to the chick’s beak.
Slling the familiar scent, the chick’s eyes lit up, and it eagerly devoured the fire essence, pecking at it like a chick pecking at grains.
For the newborn Firefeather Hawk, fire essence was like milk, nourishing it in its early days. As it grew, fire essence would lose its effect.
As it fed, Rhett felt the tickling sensation in his palm, a smile tugging at his lips. Truly, this was a magical beast—already as lively as a weeks-old chick upon birth but far more intelligent, knowing to ask for food.
"What should I na you?" Rhett wondered as he watched the chick eat.
He pondered for a mont. After the chick finished its al, it nestled back into the shell, closed its eyes, and fell asleep—treating the shell like a cozy nest.
"Well, since Rayleigh’s Windstripe Tiger is called Whiteclaw, you’ll be Fireclaw," Rhett decided to keep the naming simple, ensuring all the family’s magical beasts followed a consistent pattern.
Then he suddenly thought, "Hmm? What about the Darkstripe Hawk hatchling? It's pitch black, but the na Blackclaw is already taken…"
After a mont’s contemplation, Rhett shook his head and put the question aside, deciding to leave it to Tuck.
With one last glance at the sleeping Fireclaw, Rhett chuckled softly. "Grow up quickly, Fireclaw. The vast blue sky awaits you. And rember to take with you…"
Three days later.
Rhett was practicing the Sand Wolf Roar on a clearing in Thorn Forest.
Without the advantage of bloodline inheritance, his progress had slowed considerably, and he still had a ways to go before fully mastering the spell.
However, he had already perfected Earth Spike and Rock Armor.
So now, he focused all his efforts on Sand Wolf Roar.
He slowly gathered his ntal strength, causing a yellow light to form in front of him, vaguely taking the shape of a wolf.
But before long, it shattered into scattered earth elents.
Frowning, Rhett recalled his earlier mistakes, analyzing and correcting them before attempting the spell again.
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