Perhaps because the crisis of surviving the night had been resolved, a subtle shift occurred in the camp's atmosphere.
The guards and attendants took turns sitting around the edges of the pits, basking in the warmth rising from deep within the sand. The nerves that had been stretched to their breaking point during the day finally began to unwind.
“To be honest, I've lived for over thirty years, and this is the first time I've sat in a pit dug by the undead to keep warm.”
An older guard spoke in a low voice, his tone laced with a complex mix of emotions. He looked down at the thick cloth cushioning his seat, then glanced at the three skeletal hounds sitting quietly at the edge of the camp not far away, and couldn't help but shake his head.
“Tell me about it.”
Another slightly younger attendant chimed in, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself. His eyes involuntarily drifted toward the crooked tree by the water's edge in the distance, where Shane sat quietly.
Shane was leaning against the tree trunk with his legs crossed, holding the inert Ashstone and studying it intently.
“Do you think... necromancers are usually like this?”
The young attendant asked softly, curiosity gleaming in his eyes—a stark contrast to the wary gaze he had directed at Shane earlier in the day. “When I was a kid, the adults always said necromancers were monsters who hid in graveyards and slept with corpses. But this guy... seems pretty normal. He's just a bit quiet.”
“More than normal,” the older guard replied, his voice dropping as if he were terrified Shane might overhear. “Didn't you see? When he was riding that skeletal horse today, I was actually shaking in my boots. But in reality, he didn't even spare us a glance.”
“And this method of using sandpits for warmth...” another servant chimed in, his voice filled with unvarnished admiration. “I've lived a long time and traveled far and wide, but I never would have thought that heat could be trapped under the sand. That brain of his, tsk tsk.”
Following the servant's praise, the murmurs of discussion gradually grew. Compared to their wariness and hostility earlier in the day, they had now become genuinely curious about Shane.
For these ordinary people who had lived in the heart of the Empire all their lives, the word "necromancer" itself carried a heavy shroud of mystery.
The Empire's control over necromancy was extremely strict. Aside from a few registered researchers in the Imperial Magical Council, almost no one was permitted to dabble in this field.
Thus, most people could go their entire lives without ever seeing a real necromancer with their own eyes.
All they had ever heard were the terrifying stories passed down through legends and biographies.
But today, they were seeing a different kind.
A necromancer planting trees in the Golden Sea. Though silent and solitary, he didn't seem like a bad person.
If not for the undead companions by his side, he would look no different from an ordinary person—nothing like the madmen in the stories.
However, unlike the guards and attendants who were gradually relaxing, Elon's mood at the edge of the camp was far more complicated.
The druid sat by another sandpit, but his gaze remained fixed on Shane in the distance.
As a devout believer in the Church of Life, he had dealt with necromancers for several years on the Empire's northern border. Those fellows who claimed to study the meaning of life and tried to "break the limits of life" using the power of death were, without exception, madmen or fanatics.
If not for the dual constraints of the Imperial Magical Council and the Church of Life in this nation, who knew what those madmen would have done.
Thinking of this, Elon's brow furrowed tightly as he focused his vision on Shane once more.
Quiet, focused, and peaceful. All of Shane's attention seemed to be absorbed by the Ashstone in his hands. Not only was there no madness, but Elon couldn't even sense the typical sinister and hostile aura common to necromancers.
The impression he gave was less like a necromancer and more like an old farmer.
The moment this thought arose, Elon found it utterly absurd. But immediately after, a wave of frustration washed over him.
Elon withdrew his gaze, raised his hand, and turned his palm upward.
“Wind Whisper.”
He chanted softly, attempting to cast a simple Third-Tier spell.
However, not a single speck of mana particles gathered in his palm.
Elon's expression grew a fraction more solemn. He didn't give up and tried once more.
This time, he only channeled the mana required for a Second-Tier spell. A faint green light flickered in his palm, but it was highly unstable, dispersing after only a few seconds.
“Is even a Second-Tier spell this difficult...”
Shaking his head, Elon lowered his hand. His gaze drifted back to Shane in the distance, but more specifically, it fell upon the Ring of the Exiled on Shane's wrist.
Under normal circumstances, wearing that device would suppress at least more than half of any mages' strength. Coupled with the chaotic magic turbulence of the Golden Sea, a normal mage wouldn't be able to cast a single decent spell here.
But what about Shane?
He had not only summoned skeletons and a skeletal warhorse, but also three skeletal hounds, seemingly without any effort.
In other words, even while suppressed by the Ring of the Exiled and disrupted by the magic turbulence of the Golden Sea, Shane could still exert a formidable amount of power.
What if those restraints weren't there?
An involuntary pressure mounted in Elon's heart, accompanied by the unease of facing an existence that defied his understanding.
Just then, the voice of the princess drifted into Elon's ears. “Mentor.”
Alicia had walked up to him at some point, holding a bowl of bean soup and offering it to him.
Elon looked at the princess approaching him, the deep creases on his brow showing no signs of smoothing out.
“You've been frowning this entire time.”
Alicia's voice carried a hint of teasing, and a smile played on her lips. “That expression is quite rare on you. If even my mentor is lost, the burden on my shoulders is going to get a lot heavier.”
Having said this, the princess quietly awaited Elon's response. She had expected him to explain or offer some counsel. To her surprise, after a moment of silence, Elon actually nodded candidly. “Indeed, Your Highness. My thoughts have inevitably wandered into a maze.”
Elon took the bean soup but did not drink it. Instead, he lowered his eyes to watch the ripples on the surface of the soup, speaking slowly. “This day... has given me much to think about. Everything that man has done...”
“According to my faith, it is a sacrilege. But my eyes tell me it is reality. Your Highness, I do not know how to reconcile the two.”
“So...”
“I need some time to think.”
Alicia was momentarily speechless. Looking at Elon's face, which was written with confusion and struggle, an indescribable feeling welled up in her heart.
But she did not let this emotion distract her for long. She reached out and patted Elon's shoulder. “Then take your time to think. After a long day of travel, don't forget to get some rest.”
She didn't press further, nor did she attempt to comfort him, because she knew that some questions could only be answered by oneself.
But the moment she turned around, Alicia's gaze immediately landed on Shane in the distance.
He sat peacefully under the tree, focused on repairing the Ashstone, as if everything around him had nothing to do with him.
In the distance, Shane was unaware of the eyes on him. All of his energy was currently focused on the Ashstone in his palm.
The skeletons' actions had already been set; simple repetitive commands didn't require much of his focus. As for the princess's side, it seemed they wouldn't be making any moves anytime soon, so he didn't have to worry about being disturbed. He could safely devote most of his energy to repairing the Ashstone.
And the reason he was doing this was not just because he had promised the princess. More importantly, just now, when he had inspected the interior of the Ashstone, some hazy memory fragments had begun to surface.
They were the original host's knowledge regarding alchemy and magic.
As these memories emerged, Shane could feel his understanding and control over death magic deepening.
It seemed that interacting with these alchemical products could help him recall his past knowledge.
Thus, he had willingly taken on the task of repairing the Ashstone.
Shane stared at the Ashstone in his palm. The death magic at his fingertips flowed slowly along the broken circuits inside the stone. He was in no hurry to repair them; instead, he first felt out their original paths and structure, then used his mana to guide them back together bit by bit.
This process was highly exhausting, but the rewards were obvious.
With every circuit he repaired, his precision in controlling magic improved slightly.
The once-blurry alchemical knowledge also became clearer through practical application.
The corners of Shane's mouth slowly curled upward. Alchemical knowledge would be of immense help in his future planting endeavors. Setting aside more efficient irrigation and planting tools, the modification and innovation of seedlings would also require the integration of alchemy.
With this thought, Shane became even more focused.
But soon, his fingertips paused, and his eyes narrowed.
He had already noticed earlier that the Ashstone's circuits had been subjected to resonance at a specific frequency, causing their weak points to collapse simultaneously. Now, that feeling was exceptionally clear, and he could sense that it hadn't happened very long ago.
Shane's finger rested on the surface of the Ashstone. He slowly opened his eyes, but he did not look around wildly. He merely scanned the people in the distance with a calm gaze.
It seemed there was a traitor in the princess's ranks.
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