Duke had heard the na Vera from Vivian, known as a highly talented wizard.
Being able to beco Dele’s student already illustrates Vera’s exceptional nature.
The young elite from the Silver Hand is nad Leon, whose ancestor was reportedly a vice-commander of the Holy Silver Knight Order.
The Holy Silver Knight Order is the predecessor of the Silver Hand, originally a knight organization that gradually developed into the current wizard organization.
There were also several young wizards from other dium and small forces, whose presence was equally impressive.
Duke continued to survey the hall.
In the prominent spot at the long table—right next to the main seat, beside Elina—sat a young warlock he hadn’t noticed before.
A na was elegantly written in flowing script on the gilt card in front of the seat:
Adrian Visenfels.
The surna carried the elegance and nobility unique to aristocratic families, the syllables flowing like water over velvet.
Duke had not seen this person before, but when he finally settled his gaze, he realized a subtle fact: it wasn’t that this person had just taken their seat; rather, he sat so calmly and naturally that he blended into the ambiance of the hall, almost making him go unnoticed.
Once noticed, it was hard to look away.
He was a young warlock, tall as a snowy cedar, wearing a robe of red and sea blue gradients intertwined. Red for fire, blue for water, two elents that should conflict and oppose, yet the patterns on his robe flowed and intertwined like lava and cold currents.
His features were as handso as a divine sculpture, honey-gold long hair tied back with a plain silver thorn ring, with a natural composure between his brows as if being the center of attention was the most ordinary thing.
He sat there, the golden goblet tilted in front of him, whispering sothing to Vera beside him.
There was a hint of an elusive smile on his lips, his silver-gray eyes focused and gentle.
No deliberately emitted pressure surrounded him, but the fire and water elents circulated around him so naturally, like breathing, like a heartbeat.
"That’s the one from the Visenfels family..." murmured the young witch from a small wizard organization seated next to Duke, her voice low and filled with irrepressible curiosity.
Her companion, a round-faced young warlock, imdiately leaned closer upon hearing: "The one with water-fire dual elents? I thought it was just a rumor..."
"It’s not a rumor, my ntor’s senior had exchanged on the East Coast..." the witch paused, her tone complex, "Twenty-four years old, a Level 2 dual-elent elental mage."
Duke could hear similar whispers vaguely drifting from various corners of the long table, like the rustling of the wind over a wheat field.
"The Visenfels family... this one is remarkable, born with a very high elental affinity for both water and fire."
"It’s said to be an ancestral awakening, with the source of a blaze bloodline from his mother’s side."
"Water and fire dual elents... how is that trained? Just balancing these two coexisting elents costs significant effort..."
"That’s why at twenty-four, he’s reached Level 2, while at twenty-four, you’re still lingering on the verge of liquidation."
"...You really have a knack for saying annoying things."
Leon from the Silver Hand raised his glass, saluting Adrian from a distance.
His gesture was forthright, his tone sincere yet asured:
"Lord Visenfels, it’s been a long ti. I heard you completed a Level 2 task independently last year, sothing about purifying a deep sea volcano?"
Adrian slightly turned his head, raising his glass to return the greeting. His movents were seamless, the red and sea blue cuffs of his robe shimring with tiny bi-colored ripples under the candlelight.
"Lord Fist, you flatter ," his voice calm and gentle, carrying the slightly deep elegant accent typical of West Coast nobility, "it was rely a routine abyssal erosion cleanup. The Visenfels family has long collaborated with the Silver Hand on the West Coast; I assu Lord Raymond has heard about it too."
Leon smiled, didn’t probe into the details, simply nodded and said: "A dual-elent elental mage, unseen on the West Coast for nearly a century. I look forward to discussing with you on this journey."
This was both polite and genuine.
Vera from the Thorn Holy Tower put down her wine glass, a hint of cautious interest appearing on her cool face.
She nodded slightly, her tone indifferent:
"Lord Visenfels, the ancient library of Thorn Holy Tower holds so partial theories on elental balance. If you’re interested in exchanging ideas, I can make an introduction."
Adrian nodded with a smile: "Thank you, Miss Vera, Visenfels will rember your kindness. If you have ti, you’re also welco to visit the Visenfels family’s library tower, which might hold so value for you too."
Samuel finally stopped playing with the rim of his glass.
His gaze crossed the long table, landing on Adrian.
On that indifferent young face, there was no sign of envy or fear, only a profound evaluation.
The barely noticeable vertical mark between his brows slightly tightened, evidently sensing sothing with his third eye.
A mont later, Samuel lowered his gaze.
The shadowy runes in his hand disintegrated and reford, over and over, without speaking.
Duke put down his glass, lowering his eyes, his fingertips lightly brushing the rim of the cup.
He too said nothing, trying to minimize his presence.
At the other end of the long table, Ed was discussing with Leon about the energy consumption of fire-water fusion in practical combat.
His voice steady and unhurried, his bluish-gray eyes focused and composed.
Vera occasionally interjected, asking about details of elental balance, her tone indifferent yet hitting the mark.
Morris listened in silence, spectral light swirling in his hollow eye sockets.
...
Midway through the banquet, Raymond raised his glass and stood up.
His voice was calm, yet it reached every ear with clarity:
"Everyone, this journey to the Central Islands is a rare opportunity. But before reaching the Six-Ring Tower, I hope the young generation of the West Coast can break down barriers and get to know each other.
The path of a wizard is long, and in the future, you may be comrades fighting side by side, or academic adversaries, but first—" he paused, his gaze under silver-white brows warm yet profound, "you are cousins from the sa West Coast lineage."
He raised his glass.
The young wizards in the hall followed suit, the gentle clinking of silverware and porcelain plates mingling with the crossing of glasses, casting fragnted light and shadows in the crystal cups from the candlelight.
Everyone responded in unison, their voices though light, carried a kind of solemn mutual understanding.
Raymond drank the wine in his cup and sat down slowly.
The atmosphere of the banquet subtly relaxed at this mont, though that invisible poise did not truly dissolve, at least on the surface, people began to exchange a few more courteous words, more nods, and smiles.
Duke quietly sat without deliberately seeking out a conversation partner or avoiding occasionally cast glances.
When Leon passed by his side, they clinked glasses, exchanging a few brief remarks about the Black Sail’s recent conclusion of conflicts in the Devourer Plane.
Leon seed to have heard sothing about the Blood of War improvent project, but did not inquire deeply, and Duke was happy to keep the conversation brief.
The young witch next to him finally gathered the courage to chat with Duke a little more.
She ca from a dium-sized wizard organization called Tower of Ashes on the West Coast, and it was her first ti leaving the continent, feeling both anticipation and apprehension about the Central Islands.
Duke listened, occasionally nodding, occasionally responding, his tone gentle and almost flat.
After chatting for a while, the witch seed to feel that this young wizard from Black Sail was not difficult to get along with despite being reticent, and thus gradually relaxed, starting to chatter about her organization’s trivial matters.
Duke did not interrupt her.
The elven musician switched to another tune, transitioning from a soothing court suite to a dance piece with a slightly lively air.
Waiters moved as usual, refilling glasses with amber elven vintage, removing the cold roast suckling pig, and replacing it with warm honey muffins and candy-soaked chestnuts.
The fragrance of moonflowers and silver leaf grass faded, replaced by the unique coolness of the high-altitude night breeze.
Late at night, Raymond put down his napkin, nodding slightly towards Elina.
Elina stood up, her voice gentle yet authoritative: "It’s getting late; tomorrow the journey continues. Everyone, please return to your cabins to rest; there’s no need to rush as we have a long journey ahead."
This was the signal to disperse.
The crowd gradually rose, conversing in low tones as they left the main hall.
Vera and Leon walked side by side, still discussing so spell details, while Morris drifted alone towards the shadows, almost rging with the corridor.
Adrian was surrounded by a few young wizards, patiently answering questions about basic training for fire-water balance, speaking slowly yet steadily moving forward.
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