Merlin arrived quickly, his snow-white robes immaculate.
"Your Highness, for what reason have you summoned me so late at night?"
His voice was steady, as if nothing could startle him.
Allen didn't beat around the bush. He got straight to the point, gesturing to the lamp. "Advisor Merlin, this lamp… I don't understand it."
His tone carried the perfect amount of curiosity. "It consumes no oil and produces no heat, yet its light is constant. This isn't fluorite, nor is it any technology I know of. You are a man of vast knowledge. Tell me, what exactly powers it? And what is this 'gemstone' inside?"
He stared intently into the old man's eyes, trying to catch the slightest change in his expression.
Merlin's gaze rested on the lamp for a moment before shifting to Allen's face.
His expression was first one of surprise, then it morphed into scrutiny, as if he were seeing the Prince for the very first time.
He was silent for a moment before speaking slowly. "For Your Highness to notice its extraordinary nature is rare indeed."
The old man extended a withered finger and pointed at the crystal from a distance. "It is called a Magic Stone. It's not a mortal gem, but... a crystallization of the world's energy."
Magic Stone!
Allen's heart skipped a beat. 'The "unknown high-density energy source" as defined by DSeek has a name!'
"Then… what about the patterns on it?" he asked, suppressing his excitement. "I noticed they're perfectly orderly, like some kind of… path for guiding energy?"
The admiration in Merlin's eyes deepened. "Your Highness is a keen observer. Those are Runes—the tracks of power, the manifestation of rules! They can draw out the energy within the Magic Stone and transform it into light, heat, force… even all of creation."
Runes! The tracks of power! The manifestation of rules!
These two terms were like two keys that, with a CLICK, unlocked a door to a new world in his mind!
In that instant, DSeek's scientific deductions and the reality of this world collided and connected with a thunderous crash!
"Rules… manifestation…" Allen murmured to himself, struggling to process the massive informational impact.
He snapped his head up, his gaze frighteningly intense. "Advisor Merlin! What kind of people can master this power? Where are they?"
Merlin looked at his expression—a mixture of shock and boundless desire—and sighed softly, a trace of melancholy in the sound.
"They… call themselves Wizards."
The old advisor's voice grew low, tinged with a distant reverence. "They walk alongside truth, peering into the very origin of the world. In their hands, even gods are but toys. This mortal world we inhabit is, to them, nothing more than a single grain of dust in an endless desert."
Wizards! Truth! The origin of the world!
"Then… how can one…" His voice was a little hoarse.
Merlin raised a hand, cutting him off. He looked at Allen with a complicated expression. "Your Highness, some paths, once taken, can never be turned back from. Every ten years, a 'Guiding Ship' arrives at the Royal Capital Port to ferry those with the aptitude to the other shore. But—"
He paused, his tone becoming incredibly solemn. "Of the people who board that ship, not even one in a hundred may return. It's not that they die, but… from that point on, the extraordinary and the mundane are forever separated. Royal power, wealth, grand ambitions for conquest—all become like passing smoke. That is why the royal family has classified this matter as top secret. It doesn't bring glory, but a final, irrevocable farewell."
The night was deep, and the study was lit only by the steady glow of the Magic Stone Lamp.
Allen poured a cup of warmed wine for Merlin. The old man didn't refuse. His withered fingers caressed the side of the cup, his gaze seeming to pierce through the long years.
"Advisor," Allen began, choosing his words carefully, his eyes sweeping over the other man's immaculate yet slightly worn white robes, "why do you know so much about the Wizarding World?"
Merlin took a sip of wine and continued, "Because I, too, was once one of those countless pilgrims. I boarded the Guiding Ship, thinking I had glimpsed the crack in the door to truth. But I was wrong… That door is despairingly narrow."
His gaze drifted to the endless night sky outside the window, as if he could see that distant past.
"The path of a Wizard is an endless, brutal process of elimination. The Guiding Ship weeds out the ordinary folk. Once in the academy, a vast sea of knowledge and harsh standards are used to weed out the 'mediocre.'"
"I still remember the test that decided my fate…"
Merlin's voice took on a barely perceptible rasp.
"We were required to simultaneously stabilize three different basic magic models under intense interference. It tested not only Magic Power, but also a kind of… 'talent' for splitting one's soul into three to think at the same time."
"I managed to stabilize two with all my might, but just as the third model was about to form, my mind went BUZZ, and everything fell into chaos. The model… exploded in my mind."
He pointed to his temple and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Just that one moment, a brief loss of control. The supervising Wizard was expressionless. They simply drew a cross next to my name with a cold, red pen."
"In that instant, over a decade of my hard work, all my ambitions, were reduced to that ridiculous symbol."
"They didn't kick me out. They just stopped giving me any resources. I was like a piece of spent ore, tossed into a corner. If I had stayed, I would have been a menial laborer for the rest of my life."
Merlin pulled his gaze back and looked at Allen, his eyes filled with acceptance. "So, I came back. With a little insignificant knowledge and these robes, at least here, I can still be called an 'Advisor.'"
He set down his cup, his tone becoming incredibly grave. "Your Highness, you may possess a talent I could never hope to match. But remember, on that path, talent is merely the ticket for admission. The true cruelty is that they only ever take the very small handful from the absolute top."
"Failure is the norm."
The old advisor gave Allen a deep, indecipherable look. It held the warning of an elder, but also a faint, hidden thread of expectation.
"The reason I've told you everything is because I see in you what I lacked back then… composure and a thirst for knowledge. I failed because my mind collapsed. Perhaps someone like you, someone naturally 'rational,' is the most suited to walk that path. The next Guiding Ship arrives in half a month. I've said all I can. The decision is yours, Your Highness."
With that, he lingered no longer, turning to leave. His white robes disappeared into the shadows of the hallway.
Only Allen and the unquenchable Magic Stone Lamp remained in the study.
"Wizards… Guiding Ship… the extraordinary…"
He mulled over these words, each one feeling as heavy as a mountain.
He walked slowly back to his desk, his gaze falling on the blueprints that had cost him countless hours of effort— "Improved Steam Engine Design," "Rifled Barrel Manufacturing Process"…
These had been the foundation of his confidence, his belief that he could crush this era. They were his ladder to the pinnacle of power.
Now, faced with the fog represented by "Magic Stones," "Runes," and "Wizards," these papers seemed so pale, so fragile… even laughable.
'Our previous plans… in the eyes of certain beings, are they like children playing house?' he whispered to DSeek in his mind.
"Re-evaluating based on current information: The original development path has extremely low efficiency, and its upper limit is confirmed to be far below the observed level of the 'Wizard Civilization.' Recommended action: Immediately adjust core objectives. Priority: Acquire more firsthand data on 'Magic Stones,' 'Runes,' and 'Wizards.'"
'Of course,' Allen replied silently, his eyes showing no hesitation, only a resolve that burned like fire.
He picked up the stack of blueprints without the slightest sentimentality. Without a second glance, he tossed them directly into the fireplace.
A WHOOSH of orange-red flames shot up, greedily licking at the paper, turning those lines and words—both ahead of their time and yet hopelessly behind it—into flying ash.
The firelight flickered across his face, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow.
On his handsome face, there was not a hint of regret, only the thrill and desire of one who has finally gazed upon the boundless, starry sky.