The next morning, the sun on the west coast had not yet risen from the shoreline. Leylin had already climbed out of bed.
He found the clothes his father used to wear from the closet. These were the clothes he wore to the celebration party in Lordaeron. He had only worn them once, and they were still neat and bright.
A black suit with white trim and straight trousers. Leylin stood in front of the mirror in the closet and looked at himself.
"Well, I'm a pretty handsome guy." Leylin said to himself.
To be honest, he was very nervous about going to Quel'Thalas today. Most of those high elf mages were arrogant people. Their way of thinking and life philosophy must be very different from his own.
However, ever since he got his talents everything should be fine. Dalaran generally did not accept children from common people, but Quel'Thalas was different. He could use the fruits from his own estate to exchange with them.
Leylin took out a steel bucket from the wooden cupboard in the kitchen. The interior of this iron pipe was enchanted with a vacuum. From what Leylin understood, it functioned as a preservation device.
This was brought by his younger sister a few months ago, and it seemed like today it would finally be put to good use.
Using the freshest, sweetest apples of the season, Leylin made an apple pie and packed it untouched into a magical preservation bucket. This was his younger sister's favorite treat. If he didn't bring something this time, she would definitely pout and pretend to be sulking.
After everything was ready, Leylin detoured to the stable behind the cabin, where a black warhorse lived. It had faced orc scouts in the Black Morass and battled countless orc armies in the Blasted Lands. Its eye bore the scars of an orcish axe.
It was the only living creature left of a family destroyed by war. Leylin cared for it well, washing its mane every week.
Now, it was time for this veteran to emerge from the shadows.
"Well, my old friend, will you accompany me to Quel'Thalas? You're so used to seeing humans, you must be very curious about the elven kingdom." Leylin resaddled the warhorse. He unleashed it from the stable and mounted it.
Having not traveled far for a long time, the black warhorse panted and kicked its hind legs excitedly.
"Let's go, let's go."
Leylin pulled the reins, and the black warhorse broke into a gallop.
The distance from Silverpine Forest to Quel'Thalas was a long one. Flying mounts were the best means of transportation, but Leylin didn't have any right now.
Relying on a warhorse, they would have to traverse many areas. Fortunately, these areas were within the Kingdom of Lordaeron and were relatively safe.
From Silverpine Forest to Tirisfal, then from Tirisfal to Andorhal, continuing east to the northern reaches of Lordaeron, and then heading north, they would reach the territory of the high elves.
Since it was the third year after the Dark Portal, Leylin would call these areas these names for now. When the plague spread, the names would be changed. That's right, the Eastern and Western Plaguelands.
That evening, Leylin arrived in Andorhal, an agricultural city in Lordaeron. Even at night, countless carts laden with food and fodder could be seen traversing the streets.
Almost all of Lordaeron's food circulated in this area, which is why Andorhal was the hardest hit area after the Scourge.
He found a small inn to stay in, preparing to continue his journey the next day.
"System, sign in today"
[Sign in Successful]
[The host obtained: Mastery of Magic - Rare]
[Mastery of Magic: Can learn all the different kinds of magic whether it is Holy, Shadow, Nature, Necromantic, Arcane or Fel]
With the current reward Leylin received while signing in, his path to becoming a mage becomes easier. Leylin had brought a full 2,000 gold coins for this trip, more than enough for his expenses. After instructing the innkeeper about caring for his warhorse, Leylin returned to his room.
After dinner, Leylin unpacked the magic book Rhonin had brought him. It was "A Fundamental Introduction to Magic," written by the Archmage Antonidas. Rhonin was never stingy with Leylin.
He opened the book and perused it carefully. Between the lines, Leylin clearly sensed the Archmage's unique understanding and perception of magic. Subtle and magical, even this introduction to the lowest-level spells.
Within it, a single statement left Leylin profoundly shocked.
"Magic is no longer about destructive power, but rather the mastery of the user. Sometimes, a small fireball can defeat a demon many times stronger than yourself, but this presupposes your perception and application of magic. For magic, strength or weakness makes no essential difference. Take me, for example. If a low-level mage seizes the opportunity and strikes me with a fireball before I can even cast my spell shield, I'll have no choice but to surrender."
Leylin begs to differ. If a high-level archmage cast a high-level Pyroblast at him, he wouldn't even be able to discern their appearance.
Archmage Anthony's argument was based on his familiarity with numerous spells.
Knowing yourself and your enemy ensures victory in a hundred battles. That's the truth.
Low-level fireball.
Leylin read the words in the book carefully. Yesterday he learned a low-level ignition magic, and today he will learn a fireball spell.
It is still the traditional steps before casting magic.
Sensing, absorbing, dispersing, gathering!
Whoosh! A super large-sized fireball burned in Leylin's palm.
The human sized hamster ball, this is too big for a fireball. Leylin was shocked and dumbstruck. With the reward he received from the system it seems like he could quickly become an archmage just by learning the different spells needed.
Anyways with a power like this everywhere in Eastern Kingdoms can be easily handled.
"Whew, I should keep it lowkey." Leylin clenched his palms, and a wisp of green smoke floated out from the gap between his fingers.
Leylin sat comfortably in his room, surrounded by towering stacks of ancient tomes and shimmering scrolls that Rhonin had given to him.
The flickering glow of magical lanterns cast warm, golden light across the room, illuminating the intricate runes and symbols that decorated each page.
His eyes moved eagerly from one spell to another, absorbing the knowledge with a hunger born from curiosity and a desire to master his newfound powers.
Hours slipped by unnoticed as he delved deeper into the mysteries of magic, his mind racing with new ideas and insights.
But as the night deepened, Leylin's eyelids grew heavy. His focus wavered, and a gentle wave of drowsiness washed over him like a soft blanket. The words on the pages blurred, and his head began to nod gently.
His breathing slowed, and a peaceful, almost dreamlike expression settled on his face.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered shut, and he drifted into sleep, the magic books still open before him. In his dreams, swirling visions of fire, frost, and arcane energy danced across the darkness, whispering of greater powers yet to be discovered.
And in that tranquil slumber, a quiet promise lingered — that when he awoke, he would continue his journey with even greater strength and understanding.