Chapter 87: Disappointment (Part 2)

Inside the ring, Merlin found many strange materials he had never seen before, nearly filling up half the ring's storage space.

Not recognizing these materials, Merlin ignored them and continued his search.

Soon, he noticed a bound notebook within the ring.

"Swish."

With his mental energy, Merlin retrieved the book, revealing a thick notebook written in Morta script. As he began to skim its contents, his expression darkened.

The book was Merilon's personal journal. He recorded motivational notes whenever he encountered challenges in his training, and a large portion of it expressed his deep-seated hatred for Count Selin, detailing his relentless desire for revenge against the count upon returning to Pugas City.

However, the notebook contained none of the spell models Merlin had hoped for, nor the mental meditation techniques he urgently needed.

The wind spells that Merlin craved—speed-oriented magic—and even the earth-based defensive spells, which would be quite useful given Merlin's lack of any defensive spells, were missing. Without defensive spells, facing powerful spellcasters would be much riskier for him.

The dark magic that had captivated Merlin was also absent from the journal.

Instead, the notebook was filled merely with Merilon's reflections and thoughts during his training, with no detailed spell models.

Merlin felt deeply disappointed. He scoured every inch of the ring's space several times but couldn't find the spell models or meditation techniques he desired.

A profound sense of disappointment filled him.

Merilon was a member of Abyss Fortress, and Merlin had hoped to find the spell models or advanced meditation techniques he so desperately needed in Merilon's ring. Yet, aside from the notebook, the ring contained only strange alchemical materials.

As he put the ring away, Merlin remembered the black-robed elder's interest in potions and formulas. He wondered if the elder might find some use for the alchemical materials in the ring.

After pondering it for a moment, Merlin decided to visit the elder the next day. Being a survivor of the "Slaughterfield," the elder was knowledgeable and might be able to identify the materials' uses.

※※※

"Alright, stop here."

The carriage came to a halt, and Merlin stepped out, looking at the small wooden cabin ahead—the residence of the black-robed elder.

"Moss, wait here."

Preferring Moss's carriage for its comfort and stability, Merlin instructed him to wait, then pushed open the rusty iron gate and entered.

Tall trees surrounded the cabin, now barren in the winter, lending the area a desolate air.

Merlin approached the cabin, removed his hat, and knocked gently on the door.

"Creak."

The door opened, and a young maid in gray appeared.

"I'm Merlin, here to see Mage Hil."

The maid hesitated, her expression uncertain. Moments later, a raspy voice came from within, "Let him in."

The maid bowed slightly, gesturing for Merlin to enter.

Inside, the cabin was warm, with a light red carpet and a crackling fireplace filling the space with comforting heat.

The black-robed elder sat cross-legged by the fire, his eyes closed in serene repose, though Merlin could sense the volatile fire elements within him. This indicated that the elder had yet to stabilize his spell models.

"Mage Hil, your spell models haven't stabilized yet?"

Merlin sat across from the elder by the fire. The maid soon brought him a cup of hot water and respectfully withdrew.

The cabin was modest, with only the elder and the maid present.

The elder opened his eyes, and fatigue was clear in his gaze. Despite his efforts the previous night to control his unstable spell models, it seemed he'd had little success. An unstable spell model was akin to a ticking bomb, unpredictable in when it might "explode."

"Stabilizing them isn't easy. Forcing the spell models last night brought them to the brink of collapse. If not for my powerful mental strength, I'd have lost control long ago."

A trace of helplessness crossed the elder's face, his weathered skin resembling dried bark.

"Oh? Is there truly no solution?"

Merlin frowned, surprised at the elder's grim situation. If he continued to rely solely on mental strength to suppress the models, he wouldn't last a year before his models collapsed, ultimately leading to his demise, no matter his skills.

"Solution?"

The elder gave a bitter laugh. "Years ago, I stumbled upon a spellcaster's training notes and used them to become a spellcaster myself. But for wandering spellcasters like me, without joining a spellcaster organization, the only way to advance was through the military, where I gained spell models and even spellcasting tools.

"In my youth, I thought that having more spell models was better, but the military's spell models lack stability, prioritizing power over control. So, when I constructed my third model, problems arose. The models became unstable, and if not for a potion recipe I found, which helped stabilize them somewhat, I'd have perished on the 'Slaughterfield.'"

The elder explained his predicament with a hint of regret in his voice.

Merlin listened with a sense of caution, realizing that choosing spell models in the future would require more care. Fortunately, with the "Matrix" to analyze models for him, he could construct more stable models and avoid the elder's fate.

"Mage Hil, you mentioned a potion formula that could stabilize your spell models?"

Merlin's gaze fixed on the elder, his tone curious.