The next day, Zhaenova made several attempts to approach Rhaozekar and apologize, but he constantly avoided her.
This growing rift led to the assumption that their ’friendship’ was over, which the bullies took advantage of to resu their wrongdoings.
Once, Rhaozekar caught them in the act.
Zhaenova was in terrible shape—her face bruised, her eyes half-lidded, barely conscious.
Yet, Rhaozekar simply scoffed and walked away without intervening.
’That’s a fitting punishnt for a kaovren.’
There was no concrete proof that Zhaenova belonged to a ’different’ race. After all, ever since the first High Priest’ reign, Sarr had been a sovereign nation that strictly prohibited discrimination in any form.
’But still...’
The fact that the demon race had slaughtered his ancestors—just as his parents had told him—made Rhaozekar seethe with anger.
’Kaovren have many traits, but the most distinct one is their relentless attempt to lead you astray.’
A month later, Zhaenova skipped school—sothing she had never done before—and never returned.
So said she left town with her parents.
Others claid they saw her selling goods at the market.
This left Rhaozekar perplexed.
’Parents? Selling goods?’
He was certain that the girl’s living conditions were barely suitable for a child, let alone for multiple people.
’Unless that wasn’t really her ho at all.’
Rhaozekar dismissed the thought—after all, it wasn’t his concern.
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
But in reality, he ended up visiting the place, and what he found left him stunned.
’This... it’s completely destroyed.’
The small hut had burned down, reduced to rubble. Everything inside was charred beyond recognition.
The fire had been intense enough to scorch the surrounding trees.
’But I don’t recall seeing any smoke yesterday.’
Did the fire happen at night?
’Was it an accident, or did soone deliberately set it ablaze and extinguish it before anyone noticed?’
The bullies from the Lodge were certainly capable of such extres, especially given their disdain for Zhaenova’s ’heretical’ beliefs.
Or perhaps the culprits were from an even more dangerous faction.
After all, Rhaozekar knew almost nothing about Zhaenova.
The origins of those scrolls and suspicious books she had were also worth questioning.
While searching, he ntally prepared himself for the worst—the possibility of finding a burned corpse.
Yet, even as night fell, there was no sign of Zhaenova anywhere.
Rhaozekar eventually returned ho, resud his studies at the Lodge, and earned a scholar’s certificate.
He then enlisted as an infantry soldier in Sarr’s military.
Over the course of two decades, he climbed the ranks and beca a general.
But sothing felt wrong.
His dream had never been fulfilled.
In reality, Sarr was a nation that cherished peace.
As a military officer, most of his duties revolved around mundane law enforcent—breaking up street brawls, settling inheritance disputes, or escorting candidates for High Priest elections during campaign periods.
His military campaigns? No more than five, and every single one was humanitarian in nature, aiding war victims rather than engaging in battle.
For so reason, the surrounding nations were too busy waging war among themselves to bother invading Sarr.
The reasons varied—so cited a lack of strategic benefits, while others pointed to Sarr’s geography, surrounded by straits that made sieges difficult even with magic.
Not that Rhaozekar wanted his holand to be attacked, but this endless peace utterly crushed his ambitions.
And so, after decades of service, Rhaozekar retired from the military at the age of 48 and returned to his hotown.
By then, his older siblings had grandchildren.
He was welcod as a hero. The villagers showered the town gate with flowers and even held a festival in his honor.
Young won approached him, handing him love letters and openly offering themselves for marriage if he so wished.
Yet, despite the celebratory atmosphere, Rhaozekar once again felt an emptiness within him—one that even marriage wouldn’t be able to fill.
At the sa festival, a man introduced himself as an adventurer.
He had co from the south—from the harsher, more dangerous lands of Sabaoth—in search of the secrets of flying magic.
’Flying magic...’
The words stirred sothing within Rhaozekar—a reminder of his younger self’s excitent. And of a foolish girl nad Zhaenova.
"How ridiculous, hahaha. Well, if this were 30 years ago, I suppose it would’ve made sense. But this whole ’flying’ topic has beco quite the obsession for Southerners. Even in Intayan, academies are scrambling to invest in its developnt."
"I thought people from Intayan were more rational."
"They are. Always have been. If not for one of them allegedly seeing that floating house, they wouldn’t have joined this ridiculous chase—"
"What house?"
"A floating house."
Rhaozekar gave the adventurer a skeptical look.
"Wait, are you telling you’ve never heard of it? I an, look, it’s even docunted in several books."
The adventurer rummaged through his bag, pulling out a handful of books.
Ancient Legacies: Traces of Floating Architecture
Flight Magic and Its Dangerous Restrictions(?)
Does God Truly Watch Over Us All? (An Exclusive Testimony)
Rhaozekar frowned.
’These titles sound like cheap fiction.’
"People in Sabaoth actually read these?"
"Everyone reads them. These books circulate in the great nations of Intayan. I had to pay a fortune for these since they’re contraband."
The adventurer patted Rhaozekar’s shoulder.
"You can have them all—free of charge. But in exchange, I need a favor."
’Of course.’
Rhaozekar was unemployed now anyway. Even without the books as paynt, he would have gladly agreed.
"As long as it’s within my ability."
"Oh, it definitely is, sir. In fact, you excel in this particular field."
The adventurer suddenly lowered himself to the ground, bowing so deeply that his forehead touched the earth.
The gesture was so respectful that Rhaozekar felt both confused and uncomfortable.
"Err... what are you—"
"Please take as your disciple."
It was true that Rhaozekar had refined a deadly spear art—one that didn’t even require the use of magic.
Though calling it refinent was a stretch—he had simply stumbled upon an ancient, abandoned scroll during one of his early military expeditions.
Originally, it was a sword technique, incredibly fluid and even suited for won.
However, since Rhaozekar neither wielded nor intended to use swords, he modified the technique to be compatible with a spear, adjusting the movents to fit his own strengths.
This spear art combined agility and raw power. Its wielder needed both strength and swiftness.
As for the adventurer ...
"I don’t think you can handle it."
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