"I never knew this room actually concealed..."
Ronan paused as he watched the smoke-like little creatures in Orian's hand, unsure how to address them.
"Dust Elves."
Orian picked up where he left off, casually remarking, "Once you've lived here long enough, you'll naturally come into contact with them.
They're quite shy. It took me fifteen years of living here before I could slowly start to interact and communicate with them."
Fifteen years...
Ronan pursed his lips.
There really isn't such a thing as a genius who achieves success without reason.
That Orian managed to advance to a Level 3 Wizard before the age of fifty and gain the resounding title of 'Four-Colored Metal' was not solely due to his exceptional Talent. It was also closely tied to the vigorous nurturing from the various top-tier resources of the Silver Magic Ring.
