The Archmage’s words left Olive visibly shaken.
She looked at Archmage Amethyst and couldn’t help but ask:
"Teacher... what should we do now?"
The Archmage shook her head with a sigh.
"Ten years ago, we tried. We gathered every resource, spent an uncountable amount of gold, all in hopes that I could break through to the Sanctum Mage level—so we could open a dimensional gate and find a new homeland."
"But we soon realized that under this eternal winter, a breakthrough was impossible."
"The magical elements have become dormant because of the cold. We no longer have the heat or temperature needed to activate them. Across the continent of Echsneal, all fire mages have long perished in the divine wars."
"So at that time, we began to consider venturing deep into the ocean."
"Olive, did you know? There are volcanoes beneath the sea."
"And because they are far from the northern lands, those volcanoes remain active—even under the ice."
"Volcanoes... under the sea?"
Olive gasped in astonishment, but Ryan remained calm. He was not surprised by the existence of submarine volcanoes.
"So, Elder... you plan to take a group of people across the frozen seas, to seek those volcanic regions?"
Ryan asked. By now, he fully understood the Archmage’s and the Mage Academy’s intentions.
"It’s a decision we three Archmages made—but ultimately, it will become the decision of the entire City of the Forge."
"And how many people do you plan to take?"
The Archmage looked at Ryan in surprise—was he not intending to leave with them?
After all, the Mage Academy would certainly take many nobles along. Nearly 90% of its apprentices came from noble houses.
"At most, fifteen thousand. But realistically, if five thousand make it alive to the destination... we’d already consider that a success."
"The City of the Forge has outlived its purpose. After a century of consumption, it’s doomed to become ordinary. It will no longer represent warmth. Like the northern frontier, it will soon be buried in the eternal stillness of winter."
"Young Whitman, you shouldn’t be so stubborn."
Ryan shook his head. He already knew—he would not be getting any food from here.
"Honored Archmage, my family was born on this land. If we must die, then we’ll die on this land."
With that, Ryan took his leave of the Archmage and descended the tower.
"Since you’ve made your decision, then take this as well."
She gestured, tossing a piece of amethyst crystal into Ryan’s hands. He caught it, puzzled.
"That crystal was given to me by one of your ancestors, to be sealed using the Whitman bloodline. Inside, you’ll find records of your family’s knightly combat techniques."
"However... the Spirit of the Stag has already fallen."
Ryan stepped out of the Mage Tower, clutching the amethyst crystal. His heart raced. The revelations he’d just received nearly made him want to cheer aloud.
Were it not for a noble’s innate mastery of self-control, he might have exposed his true feelings in front of the Archmage.
"Good. Let them leave. Let them all leave!"
Truthfully, Ryan didn’t want to drag these nobles and mages back to the Frozen Territory.
While these mages were certainly a powerful force, if they returned with him, many things might no longer be under his control.
These mages were all extraordinary—and most of them nobles. Take Grand Duke Moriarty, for instance—he was a Grand Magus. Even if he came to the Frozen Territory, he would still be a noble in the Northwind Province.
Unlike Baron Arzel and others who had only their bloodlines and nothing else, these people had true power and status. Would someone like Moriarty really take orders from a mere baron like Ryan?
Even if he agreed outwardly, there would inevitably be tension and pride—and pride might turn to conflict. That could be catastrophic.
Ryan had previously considered secretly moving some people from the City of the Forge, but now... all he had to do was wait.
Leaving the Mage Academy, the once-burning heat vanished. The cold hit him immediately.
He looked back. Who would have thought that beneath such a warm place—the very foundation of the City of the Forge—the fire vein had already gone extinct?
If this truth were to spread, it would surely plunge the entire city into despair.
Even the nobles—would they truly be willing to cross frozen seas?
Ryan returned to his manor. The food crisis remained unresolved. Would he have to transport supplies from the Frozen Territory until the mages left?
That would be far too costly.
Just as Ryan was worrying—considering solutions that might involve the southern, icebound sea—a messenger arrived, summoning him to a noble council meeting.
"At a time ? Could the nobles have already learned the truth?"
Ryan was surprised, but then shook his head. News of the extinguished fire vein shouldn’t have spread so quickly.
At the council hall, all the nobles wore grave expressions.
Ryan took his seat and turned to ask Viscount Swidden beside him.
This viscount came from an old and noble line, once well known across Echsneal. Perhaps only such ancient houses could have fled from the north and survived in the south during the cataclysmic events of the past.
"The cultists have been sighted in the north. And creatures of the Abyss, too."
Ryan widened his eyes and turned to the head of the council, Grand Duke Moriarty. As expected, the noble leader was delivering grim news of another cultist invasion.
"Those damned heretics—they consumed a year’s worth of food in mere months. They have no idea what restraint means!"
A noble roared in anger. No one had expected the cultists to return so soon—and for such a ridiculous reason: they’d already eaten all the food they’d plundered from the City of the Forge.
"Those cultists deserve to burn. Some of them were once nobles—it’s disgraceful!"
Even though the City of the Forge’s food stores were limited, thanks to the nobles’ ruthless rationing policies (read: exploitation), those supplies had at least allowed the city to survive the winter. Yet in the cult’s hands, they hadn’t even lasted a couple of months.
"War... has returned."
"There is no more food outside the City of the Forge. If the cultists want more, they’ll have to take it from us."
"They want into the city."
Grand Duke Moriarty’s voice was ice cold. Around the chamber, the nobles responded with fury and fear—but Ryan slowly raised his head, his eyes gleaming.