Chapter 821
Their first night in the wilderness was unnervingly quiet. The silence was so complete that Anton felt as though they were the last living humans in existence. The land no longer resembled a fantasy realm; it carried the hollow stillness of a world after its end.
They remained close to Nermador, on the sa road once overrun by the undead during their assault on the capital city of Andora. Given the undead’s relentless hunger for life and their indiscriminate destruction, Anton had expected this outco. No living creature would remain within miles of the western outskirts of the city.
He was proven correct. For hours, he had not seen a single living being. Even plant life had vanished. The land stretched endlessly in barren desolation, a sight that spoke grimly of the fate awaiting the human kingdoms beyond.
Anton knew his father had reached the sa conclusion. The kingdoms near ndi—perhaps even ndi itself—were likely gone. They had prepared themselves for such a possibility, but witnessing the devastation firsthand was another matter entirely. Anders looked deeply troubled, his usual composure weighed down by quiet despair.
Anna shared their father’s grief. Anton, however, felt differently.
The desolation saddened him, but it did not strike him as deeply. ndi, Rendindura—none of it truly felt like ho. He was a transmigrator, and his ti in those lands had been fleeting, like a temporary stay in a foreign country. Even the Rose Manor in Ormunda failed to evoke any real sense of belonging.
The only place that had ever co close was the ship, Alia.
There, he had found genuine companionship—sothing he had not experienced in Ormunda or New Drennor. Even his acquaintances in the Elven Forest Kingdom had never reached that level of closeness. The realization left a faint but persistent unease. It felt as though sothing within him had shifted, making it difficult to form aningful bonds.
Still, he understood the reason. He had never remained in one place long enough. On Alia, there had been nowhere else to go. Shared ti had forged those connections. Everywhere else, he had simply moved on.
Anton’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed Omatee’s surprise. Together, Anton, Anders, and Anna retrieved their compact houses from their spatial items and arranged them in a triangular formation, placing a table with four chairs at the center.
Anders set a Fireball Lantern and a Fire Wall stove on the table, their warm glow softening the harshness of the surrounding wasteland.
He then removed the harness from the two Dire Wolves, allowing the summoned creatures to assu guard positions. Anton added four more Dire Wolves to reinforce their defenses. He dismissed the Valkyrie shortly after, noticing Omatee’s lingering discomfort. The archmage seed unable to separate the summon’s human appearance from the instinct to treat it as a person.
As Omatee began preparing his tent, Anders stopped him.
“You can stay inside my house,” he offered. “It has basic anities—just conjure your own water and clean up after yourself.”
Omatee accepted without hesitation.
During dinner, the archmage attempted to lighten the mood.
“I must admit,” he said, glancing at the wolves, “it is difficult not to feel safe surrounded by such creatures.”
Anton rely nodded.
The others remained silent, their earlier lancholy still lingering. Omatee, however, continued undeterred.
“That lantern—and the stove. Their efficiency rivals a full bonfire. And the cooling enchantnt in the carriage…” He paused, then looked at Anders. “Where did you acquire them?”
“Anton made them,” Anders replied.
Omatee’s surprise was brief. Recognition quickly replaced it. Anton assud the archmage had already reviewed his profile, which likely detailed his abilities and creations.
The conversation soon faded. Rather than linger, Anton, Anders, and Anna chose to retire early. None of them had the inclination for distraction, not even the small comforts Anton could provide.
Omatee, on the other hand, was not ready to rest.
“I intend to explore the surrounding area,” he said. “May I borrow a few of your wolves?”
Anton agreed without comnt, assigning two Dire Wolves to accompany him. The archmage departed into the barren expanse, seemingly undeterred by the emptiness.
Anton watched him go, indifferent to what he might find. Then he returned to his house, where he and his family settled in for the night.
They broke camp early the next morning.
Before leaving, Anton cast his modified Blizzard Spell repeatedly, transforming it into Mana Rain across the surrounding land. He did not know whether it would have any lasting effect, but the act itself felt necessary—a small attempt to restore what had been lost.
From that point on, he resolved to cast it whenever possible during their journey.
Omatee’s return went unnoticed. By the ti they resud travel, the archmage had already fallen asleep, likely exhausted from his nocturnal excursion.
According to Anders’s map, their next destination was the Kingdom of Ogrumar. The route should have been lined with towns and villages, but none remained. Only empty land stretched before them.
The journey would take roughly a week by carriage, yet what they had already seen suggested a bleak conclusion. Ogrumar, like the others, might no longer exist.
After several days, Anders and Anna began to recover from their initial despair. Conversation gradually returned to the group. Omatee, ever eager to teach, began instructing Anna in magic, and she listened with focused attention.
Their travel remained smooth. The Dire Wolves moved with steady precision, and the carriage provided unexpected comfort. Often, the group would rest during the ride. When awake, discussions resud—Omatee guiding Anna, while Anders contributed insights from his own experience.
He spoke of his ti in the army and his ventures into dungeons, his stories carrying both humor and weight. In the midst of desolation, those monts of shared conversation brought a quiet, steady relief as they continued forward.
Several nights later, Anders finally asked Anton to show them sothing lighthearted.
Anton was caught off guard—not by the request itself, but by the preparation behind it. His father had already assembled a large viewing screen made from pristine white cloth, stretched tightly between a set of collapsible poles.
Anton assisted in securing the structure while Anna explained its purpose to Omatee. The archmage was not entirely unfamiliar with such entertainnt. He had visited the cinema established by the Sunder family on multiple occasions and understood the concept well enough.
Once everything was ready, Anton began the film: The Sound of Music.
The choice proved fitting. The story’s warmth and optimism, set against the looming shadow of war, created a quiet but steady comfort. Its tone did not ignore hardship, yet it refused to be defined by it. The music carried the experience—clear, resonant, and deeply human.
Anton observed the others as the film progressed. Anders watched with calm focus, Anna with visible engagent, and Omatee with open curiosity. The tension that had lingered over the past days gradually eased.
At the midpoint, Anton paused the film so they could prepare a few simple snacks. The brief interruption felt natural, almost ritualistic, before they resud watching.
When the film ended, the response was imdiate and sincere. Anders, Anna, and Omatee all spoke favorably of it; their earlier heaviness noticeably diminished.
“You should choose more like this,” Anders said. “Sothing that keeps the spirit steady.”
Anton agreed.
Finding such films required little effort. Through the system interface available to him, he searched for similar works and was quickly presented with several options suited to the sa tone.
From that list, he selected their next film: Shrek.
It was a different kind of lightheartedness, but one he believed would serve them just as well.
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