Translator: CinderTL
Roland digested Tracy's words, his expression turning peculiar.
"You mean..." He glanced at the Red Squirrel, who had finished its bread and was now licking its paws, before slowly continuing, "Joe is a creature from another plane, and... it's living on the Material Plane in the form of a squirrel?"
"Exactly! It must have ulterior motives."
Before Tracy could finish, Roland withdrew his finger and gently shook his head.
"Don't let your imagination run wild, Tracy. I've known Joe for a long time. While it's true there are some odd things about it..." His tone was gentle but firm. "It definitely means no harm. You shouldn't casually suspect your companions, understand?"
Watching the pixie before him, who was rubbing her forehead and nodding with a slightly aggrieved expression, Roland recalled her earlier explanation. His gaze shifted once more to the Red Squirrel in the distance.
Under the sunlight, Joe stretched out comfortably. The comfortable life had clearly brought about significant changes.
This Red Squirrel, once petite, now had a body that was steadily expanding outward. From a distance, one might easily mistake it for a small cat.
If this continued, Roland worried that Joe's health would suffer from such excessive indulgence.
Perhaps...
A thought quietly surfaced.
Could I form a contract with Joe and make him my familiar?
If we were bound by a contract, I could sense his safety even if I wasn't directly involved in combat.
He gazed at Joe's plump figure, thinking helplessly, Even just getting him to move around a bit would be good.
As his thoughts drifted, a voice called out in his ear.
"Roland!"
Before the words had even finished, Tracy's figure vanished, silently slipping into the leather pouch at Roland's waist.
Roland swiftly sheathed his longsword and turned to see Instructor Reggie striding toward him.
"Dean Graham is looking for you! Also..." Reggie's face beamed with excitement. "I've been assigned as the accompanying mentor for this exchange program! Finally, a chance to stretch my legs and get out of this place—I'm starting to feel like I'm rusting!"
Hearing this, a weight lifted from Roland's heart.
Although the journey was expected to be relatively safe, standard procedure required a student mentor to accompany the group.
Reggie's appointment to this role was the result of Roland's strong recommendation.
On such a long journey, having a familiar face in charge would undoubtedly save them from many unnecessary complications.
Roland quickened his pace to catch up with Reggie.
"Has Dean Graham already set the departure date?"
"That's right! We're leaving at dawn in seven days."
Reggie grinned, clapping Roland on the shoulder with his thick hand.
"Don't oversleep, kid!"
"Don't worry, Instructor Reggie."
As they knocked on the Dean's heavy oak door and entered the room, Roland was surprised to see a figure already there:
Masdon.
The leader of the Noble Faction still carried his usual air of arrogance and self-importance.
However, the bloodshot eyes betrayed that his composure was far from as calm as it appeared.
Seeing Roland and Reggie enter, Masdon immediately cut off his words.
After a moment of silence, he spoke in a low but steady voice.
"Graham, I urge you to carefully reconsider my proposal."
"You're right," Graham replied, nodding slightly. "I have changed, but Derek has changed as well."
Before he could finish, Masdon deftly leaned on his cane, rose, and left the room.
The heavy oak door closed softly behind him.
Graham sighed deeply, offering no explanation for the meeting. He merely rubbed his temples and gestured toward a high-backed chair by the fireplace.
"Please, sit down."
The ensuing conversation consisted of routine reminders about travel preparations and precautions.
After the brief exchange, Roland turned and left the Dean's office, stepping into the chilly stone corridor outside.
"Where factions exist, conflict never ceases..."
Recalling Masdon's presence in the Dean's office and Graham's increasingly weary expression, Roland sighed softly and turned toward home.
Though he had entered the Transcendent Realm, his strength far surpassing that of ordinary transcendents, he still lacked any real influence within the intricate power structures of the River Domain Nations.
"It seems Graham's decision to send me away from this nest of vipers on this study abroad opportunity was remarkably wise."
Just as Roland was lost in thought, his peripheral vision caught a figure by the roadside.
It was one of the two wizards he had seen earlier in Graham's office—the lean, simply robed elder named Irwin.
What truly made Roland's heart race was that the bustling crowd on the street seemed utterly oblivious to Irwin's presence.
Chattering passersby and hurried merchants alike skirted around the motionless figure as if he were nothing more than an unremarkable boundary stone by the roadside or an invisible ripple in the air.
Only Roland seemed to pierce through this veil of invisibility, perceiving his existence.
Having confirmed Irwin's identity and this bizarre phenomenon, Roland didn't break his stride, maintaining his original pace.
As the crowd thinned, Roland clearly sensed the figure following him at a measured pace.
The feeling of being silently targeted forced him to halt.
He whirled around, his body tensing like a drawn bowstring, his right hand gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist.
His sharp gaze locked onto the old wizard, who had materialized silently a few steps away like a phantom.
"My apologies, sir," Roland said, his voice maintaining a polite calm, though his eyes betrayed undisguised wariness. "May I ask why you've been waiting here and following me?"
The response wasn't words, but a series of crisp, deliberate claps.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Irwin's withered hands struck together lightly, the sound echoing clearly in the gradually emptying street.
The eyes, sunken deep within the wrinkles of his face, no longer resembled unremarkable roadside boundary stones. Instead, they gleamed with a profound, penetrating light, fixed intently on Roland.
"Impressive... truly impressive," the wizard's voice rasped, like dry leaves rustling against each other. "I underestimated you. I never imagined you could pierce the veil of the Invisibility Spell and detect my presence."
He took a step forward, an ordinary-seeming movement that seemed to freeze the surrounding air for an instant.
"Your mental perception... far surpasses the capabilities of ordinary extraordinary individuals."
Without further explanation, his withered, twig-like fingers emerged from the sleeve of his plain robe, holding a rolled parchment scroll with edges that shimmered with a faint silver light.
The scroll itself appeared unremarkable, but as Irwin gently extended it, an indescribable, serene yet vast mana fluctuation rippled outward, sending a chill down Roland's taut nerves.
"The High Tower," Irwin's voice carried a strange penetrating force and an undeniable weight, despite its low volume. "It needs young talents like you."
He pushed the scroll forward another half-inch, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's.
"This invitation leads to knowledge, strength, and a vision beyond the mundane. Accept it, and the High Tower's emissaries will find you."
(End of the Chapter)
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