Chapter 825
Anton, his father, and his sister ate dinner while Anders shared the information he had gathered earlier that day. The news was largely encouraging. The kingdoms beyond Whaling were beginning to rebuild. Though still fragile, they were no longer on the brink of collapse.
Even so, Anders cautioned them not to expect much. Most of the kingdoms they would pass through on their way to ndi—and eventually to Oakswood, the village nearest their farm—remained sparsely populated. Whaling itself only appeared lively because of its status as a port city. Trade had begun to return, and with it, people.
“Most travelers only stay for a short ti,” Anders explained. “Then they move on, returning to their holands—just as we will.”
Cormanur joined them shortly after and ordered a al. The waitress regarded their table with visible respect. Neither Cormanur nor Anton had concealed their strength—Cormanur’s presence alone commanded attention, and Anton’s earlier summoning of massive, monstrous wolves had made it clear their group was not one to be trifled with.
The shift in the room was imdiate.
Those who had previously eyed Anton and Anna with poorly hidden greed—drawn by Anton’s casual display of wealth by tipping the minstrel with a large number of gold coins—began to slip away. Anton suppressed a laugh as he watched them attempt to leave unnoticed.
Anna, however, did not share his amusent. She glared openly at the departing figures.
When Anders asked why, she answered without hesitation. “They were the first to look at us with ill intent. All because we had coins.”
Anton chuckled softly. Anders and Cormanur followed her gaze, their expressions hardening. Under their scrutiny, several of those leaving grew visibly unsettled; a few even stumbled in their haste.
Anders sighed and shook his head at his son before returning the conversation to more important matters.
Before long, the minstrel resud his performance. This ti, his attention lingered on Anton’s table, his deanor markedly more respectful. Anna watched him again, her earlier irritation fading into sothing far less guarded.
Anders let out a quiet laugh.
Anna shot him a sharp glare, then stood abruptly. “I’m going to rest,” she said, her tone clipped. Without waiting for a response, she left for her room.
Once she was gone, Anton spoke.
“She’s not just tired,” he said. “Earlier, she misjudged a group of youths who tried to speak with us. She thought they had ulterior motives.”
“And they didn’t?” Anders asked.
“No,” Anton replied. “They were only curious. We realized that after talking with them.”
He paused briefly.
“I think she feels guilty for assuming the worst without giving them a chance.”
Cormanur considered this, then shook his head slightly. “In tis like these, caution is not a flaw. It is survival. Better to misjudge than to regret inaction.”
Anton shrugged. “Perhaps. But I can afford to be wrong. I’m strong enough to deal with the consequences.”
Cormanur only smiled in response.
What Anton did not realize was that many within the magical community in Ormunda would have excused such confidence—perhaps even admired it. His rise had been nothing short of extraordinary. A self-taught wizard, yet already possessing power that rivaled that of those trained for decades.
Among the wizards of Ormunda and New Drennor, his na had beco a subject of frequent discussion.
So attributed his survival to timing. The most powerful figures had been preoccupied with a greater threat, allowing Anton to grow unchecked. Now, however, he had reached a level where opposing him directly would be… inconvenient, at best.
Capturing him was out of the question. His mastery of teleportation and portal magic alone made such attempts impractical.
Targeting his family was no better. Anders and Anna were formidable in their own right, and any attempt to use them as leverage carried significant risk. History had shown what happened when powerful individuals were pushed too far—kingdoms had fallen for less.
In the end, the conclusion was simple.
It was far wiser to befriend Anton than to oppose him.
His abilities, while impressive, were not entirely unique. His portal techniques had already been studied and partially replicated. What truly set him apart was the speed at which he had grown—and that, intriguingly, appeared to extend to his family as well.
Anna’s enrollnt in one of Ormunda’s magic academies only strengthened that connection. Through her, a bond—however subtle—was being cultivated.
The following day, Anton, Anders, Anna, and Cormanur resud their journey.
After several weeks of travel, they arrived at the city of Homura.
Like Whaling, it bore the scars of devastation. Ruined structures still dominated the landscape, but signs of recovery were evident. The people had begun rebuilding, piece by piece.
The road between the two cities, however, told a harsher story.
Most of the towns and villages that once stood there were gone—reduced to ruins or erased entirely. It would take years, perhaps decades, before life returned to those places. So might never be rebuilt at all, their nas surviving only in the historical records of Rendindura.
Anton and his group did not linger in Homura. Instead, they made camp outside the city, intending to return to the Rose Manor that sa night.
“We’ll rest there for a few days,” Anders said.
Cormanur agreed.
By the ti they arrived, it was already late. After a brief al, each of them retired to their rooms.
Cormanur departed again not long after, likely to report their status.
The next day, Anders imrsed himself in the affairs of the manor and his rcenary companies. Anna spent her ti in the city, eting friends and visiting shops throughout Ormunda.
Anton, however, found himself with little to do.
He reviewed a report from Raymond regarding the manor’s condition, then passed several films to Romina for archiving. After that, his schedule was empty.
Under normal circumstances, he might have spent the ti playing Diablo II, but without an active ladder season, the motivation simply wasn’t there. He still dedicated a few hours to Diablo Immortal, having recently switched from his Necromancer to a Wizard out of boredom.
At least the system allowed such changes without forcing him to start over.
Even so, the hours passed slowly.
For the first ti in a while, Anton found himself with nothing pressing to occupy his ti.
And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
Anton soon realized that he had failed to form any aningful connections in Ormunda. It was a stark contrast to his ti aboard the ship Alia. Back then, shared proximity had forged bonds quickly. Surviving the Undead Coalition by leaving Rendindura had brought him and his friends aboard the ship in a way that ordinary circumstances never could.
This ti was different.
The change, he knew, lay with him.
There had been a ti when he was open to others—willing, even eager, to form friendships. Now, distance ca naturally. Whether by choice or habit, he had made himself difficult to approach.
As a result, his idle hours were spent alone.
It was also why he had grown increasingly willing to leave the Gale Continent. The pursuit of knowledge was reason enough, but beneath it lay sothing more personal—a desire to move, to search, to beco sothing greater. Not just a powerful wizard, but sothing akin to a multidinsional adventurer.
He had already begun researching which continents might best serve that goal. Unfortunately, the information available to him was limited and fragnted.
He exhaled quietly.
Then he made a decision.
He would return to the public library—but this ti, he would not work alone. He would hire soone to assist him in gathering and organizing the information he needed.
As Anton prepared to leave, a sudden flash of red interrupted his thoughts.
A notification.
It ca from his Diablo System.
His expression hardened slightly as he focused on it. Red notifications were rare. They signified major updates—events of significance.
Typically, such alerts only appeared at the beginning of a new Diablo II ladder season.
Which made this… unusual.
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