Hearing those words, Alan quickly pieced together the identity of the man before him.
There had long been tales of the great archmage Jacob, who had valiantly given his life defending the Kent Kingdom from a devastating invasion. Yet whispers circulated in the shadows—rumors that Jacob's death was not one of glory, but the tragic outcome of political infighting within the kingdom's ruling class.
But now, standing before the lingering soul of the man himself, those rumors felt empty and absurd.
Jacob had truly loved this land—enough to give his life for it.
"So, do you accept?"
The middle-aged man's voice broke the silence, his tone tinged with concern after Alan remained quiet for some time.
Alan nodded solemnly. "Of course I do. Having a grandmaster like you willing to guide me is a privilege. I'd be a fool to decline."
"Good, good. Though let's not throw around words like 'grandmaster.' I merely became a mage a few years before you did—nothing more."
