The Northern Continent's Ice Plains—snow fell here all year round, making it bitterly cold. Yet for that very reason, it was highly favored by mages who practiced Ice Magic.
As night fell, a train from Hargeon slowly pulled into Brago Station. With Alaya-vijñāna at his waist and a gray long cloak draped over his shoulders, Arlen stepped out of the station.
"Hmm? It's snowing… what a formidable place," Arlen murmured, looking up at the falling snow.
Since it was already late, he found a decent inn and decided to rest for the night. Tomorrow, he would buy a detailed map of Brago and visit the cities destroyed by Deliora, to see if he could detect any lingering traces of its magic.
"Feels like I've spent the entire day either on a train or heading to one… I'm a bit tired today. I'll skip training and just sleep," Arlen said while lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
The next moment, he drifted off.
The following morning, after breakfast, Arlen went to a map shop. After purchasing a detailed map, he asked the shopkeeper about the three cities that had been destroyed.
As he was leaving, perhaps noticing Arlen's noble attire and refined bearing, the shopkeeper couldn't help but warn him:
"Judging by your clothes and demeanor, you must be a noble from a great family. Let me give you some advice—go back where you came from. Don't try to find Deliora. That immortal demon… it's truly terrifying."
Arlen turned back. Seeing the fear on the man's face, he gave a faint smile.
"Thank you for the warning. But appearances can be deceiving—I'm actually a very strong mage."
With that, he left the shop.
The middle-aged shopkeeper remained doubtful. No matter how he looked at it, Arlen seemed far too young to be a powerful mage. Still, he had said his piece—what the boy chose to do was out of his hands.
Following the directions on the map, Arlen soon arrived at the first city destroyed by Deliora.
Looking at the scene before him, only four words came to mind:
utter devastation.
The entire city had been reduced to ruins. Only a few shattered structures still stood against the cold wind.
(And notably, the snowstorm had already stopped that morning.)
Closing his eyes, Arlen extended his senses, trying to detect any residual magic from Deliora.
It was completely futile.
Following the map, he visited each ruined city one by one—yet found nothing. Arlen couldn't help but feel a trace of disappointment.
The three cities were quite far apart. By the time he finished inspecting them all, an entire day had passed. Seeing the sun beginning to set, he decided to find a place to stay and think of his next move.
"Let's see… the nearest place is a city called Isvan. I could head there tonight… hmm, wait—there's also something marked here: a Magic Development Bureau. It's actually closer than Isvan… alright, that settles it."
Folding up the map, Arlen headed toward the bureau, soon disappearing into the ruins, leaving only footprints behind.
"So this is the Magic Development Bureau?"
Looking at the structure before him, Arlen couldn't help but frown.
A massive "moon" loomed overhead—but it was grotesque. Its surface was riddled with pipes and steel structures, and beneath it, thick supports held it up, as if preventing it from collapsing.
No matter how bizarre it looked, Arlen still intended to stay the night.
Stepping through the thick snow and biting wind, he arrived at the entrance.
Two guards stood watch—dressed in black uniforms with white shoulder capes and white hats, marked with red triangles bearing white dots.
"Halt! This is the Magic Development Bureau. Unauthorized entry is forbidden," Guard A said, pointing his spear at Arlen.
"My name is Arlen. Arlen Viviamilio. I'm passing through and would like to stay the night," Arlen replied calmly, though his brows knit slightly.
"Viviamilio…?" Guard B looked more closely, noticing the noble aura about Arlen—and then the family crest on his belt and collar.
He quickly stopped Guard A and said with a polite smile:
"Please wait a moment, Your Highness. I'll inform the Director."
"Very well," Arlen nodded lightly. He had no intention of causing trouble—he only wanted a place to stay.
After whispering something to Guard A, Guard B hurried inside. Arlen remained where he stood, expression unchanged.
—
"Director, there's a young man outside claiming to be Arlen Viviamilio. He says he wants to stay the night," Guard B reported respectfully inside a large laboratory.
The man addressed as Director was a burly middle-aged man with dark skin and shoulder-length white hair.
"Viviamilio? Are you sure?" he asked, surprised.
"I saw the family crest on his clothing and belt," Guard B confirmed.
"That's strange… what would someone from the Viviamilio family be doing in this frozen wasteland?" the Director muttered.
He had heard of Arlen Viviamilio—the duke's son was no obscure figure.
"Director, could it be… that what we're doing here has been exposed?" a female researcher beside him asked nervously. She wore the same uniform as the guards.
"No. If it had been exposed, we wouldn't be dealing with just one person," the Director waved dismissively.
"Go invite him in. Take him to a room… no, I'll go myself."
After a moment's thought, he added, "He is the son of a duke, after all. We should show some courtesy. We can't afford any mistakes right now—the experiment must continue."
"Yes, Director. Should we proceed with today's experiment?" the researcher asked.
"Continue. The lab is on the top floor—he won't reach it. Still, be cautious."
"Yes, Director."
"Let's go. Don't keep our guest waiting."
The Director dusted off his white cloak and headed out, with Guard B following a step behind.
—
"Haha, I never expected to meet Your Highness Arlen here. What a pleasant surprise. Allow me to introduce myself—I am Brian, Director of the Magic Development Bureau."
Brian greeted him with a warm smile.
"Hello. I'm Arlen Viviamilio. Sorry for the trouble," Arlen replied.
Though Brian's smile seemed friendly, something about him felt… off. Arlen couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the entire place gave him a strange, unsettling feeling.
"Not at all. Please, follow me. I'll show you to your room," Brian said as he turned and led the way.
Walking through the facility, Arlen noticed people everywhere wearing the same uniform as the guards.
He couldn't help but inwardly complain:
This is supposed to be an organization recognized by the Magic Council? If you told me it was some evil organization, I'd believe you instantly.
Brian personally brought him to a room on the second floor.
"Your Highness, I apologize for the modest accommodations. Would you like me to have dinner brought to you?"
"No need, thank you," Arlen declined politely.
"Very well. Please rest early. I still have work to attend to, so I'll take my leave."
Brian gave a slight bow before departing. The door closed behind him.
Arlen carefully inspected the room.
The furnishings were simple—a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Nothing more.
He tried extending his magic outward—it worked easily. He had expected a place like this to have anti-detection barriers.
Sitting on the bed, that strange feeling in his heart still hadn't faded.
It made him wary.
Something isn't right here…
Deciding not to take any chances, Arlen chose to spend the night in meditation—remaining alert for anything unexpected.