Chapter 22: Claude

The study was spacious—everywhere, books.

Towering bookshelves lined the walls, rows upon rows of knowledge stacked in quiet grandeur.

At the far end of the room, behind a mountain of tomes, sat a bald, white-bearded old man.

Claude.

His head lifted slowly as he took in the sight of Melissa and Hutson.

A deep sigh. "I've heard about Dull Valley. My condolences, Melissa." His voice was warm yet firm. "When a sorcerer intervenes, there is nothing anyone can do. Stay at the academy. Here, you are safe."

Melissa wiped her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Master."

Claude then turned his gaze to Hutson.

"And who might this be?"

Hutson stepped forward and offered a polite bow.

"Hutson Merlin. Formerly a guard of Baron Buck, now a seeker of the arcane. I've come to ask for your guidance."

A flicker of surprise crossed Claude's face.

He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing with genuine interest.

"You have the aptitude for sorcery?"

Hutson nodded. "I am now a wizard's apprentice."

Claude's eyes glinted with curiosity.

"Do you have a mentor?"

"No."

Claude exhaled thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

"I see… You wish to join a wizarding order."

"Yes," Hutson admitted. "But I know nothing of the world of sorcery, so I hoped to learn from someone as knowledgeable as yourself."

Claude chuckled.

"'Knowledgeable?' Compared to a sorcerer, I am no more than a primitive man in a cave."

He shook his head. "You've come too late. The last ship carrying wizard apprentices left three months ago. The next one? Could be three months. Could be three years."

"Three years?" Hutson's brows furrowed.

Malcolm had mentioned it too—ships rarely passed through the Carlson Continent.

Claude saw the flicker of disappointment in Hutson's expression and sighed.

"The sea is unpredictable. No one can predict when the next ship will arrive. But do not be discouraged. Use this time wisely—prepare yourself. You haven't studied Sivirian, have you?"

Hutson hesitated. "Sivirian?"

Claude nodded. "An ancient universal language. If you wish to walk the path of sorcery, learning it is non-negotiable."

He strode toward a bookshelf, his fingers gliding over aged spines, before plucking out a heavy tome.

The book's cover was inscribed with symbols Hutson couldn't recognize—letters vaguely familiar yet entirely alien.

Claude handed it to him.

"This is 'The Common Tongue of Sivirian.' You will study it under me."

Hutson accepted the book with reverence. "Thank you, Master Scholar."

Claude regarded him with something akin to longing.

Then, in a voice filled with both regret and hope, he murmured—

"Youth… how precious it is. I, too, once dreamed of becoming a sorcerer. But I lacked the gift. If I could see just one of my students step into that world…"

Melissa nudged Hutson with a meaningful look, her eyes full of unspoken insistence.

Hutson chuckled and bowed slightly.

"Master Claude, I am honored to be your student."

Claude laughed heartily, stroking his beard. "Good lad."

Melissa grinned. "That makes me your senior now."

Claude wasted no time.

He dragged out a chalkboard from the adjacent room.

"Let's begin. Lesson one: The Basics of Sivirian."

Hutson sat through two intense hours of instruction.

Sivirian bore striking similarities to English—thirty-four fundamental letters, structured word formations, and straightforward grammar.

And with AI chip assisting, his progress was astonishing.

"Sivirian language database established."

With that, even if Hutson didn't continue formal studies, AI chip could now translate Sivirian for him.

Claude leaned back in his chair, gazing at Hutson with undisguised admiration.

"Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary."

He turned to Melissa. "I thought you were the brightest student I ever taught… but this boy…"

Melissa pouted. "You're making me jealous, Master."

Claude laughed. "I've never seen someone learn a language this quickly. A true prodigy."

Hutson remained humble, but his mind was already racing toward the next step.

"Master, may I visit the library? There are some things I wish to research."

Claude waved a hand. "Use my library card for now. Once you get your own, return it."

He rummaged through his desk and produced a beautifully carved wooden library pass.

Hutson accepted it, turning the smooth engraved wood between his fingers.

An artifact of prestige.

"Most students probably don't get a card like this," he mused.

A Night of Plans and Revelations

That evening, the group gathered over a meal.

As they ate, Emil leaned forward.

"We scouted the city today. There's a Mercenary Guild here. We're thinking of taking on some contracts."

Melissa frowned. "High-paying jobs often come with high risks. Don't be reckless. Money isn't worth your lives."

Emil thumped his chest. "Relax. I'm a full-fledged knight, and Jimmy's men and I have worked together for years. We can handle ourselves."

Hutson raised his cup. "If you need my help, just say the word."

But Emil shook his head.

"Hutson, your path is different. You're going to be a sorcerer—you shouldn't waste your time on mercenary work."

Hutson smirked. "Sitting around studying all day isn't great for the body. Besides, who knows when the next ship will come? There won't be many chances left for us to fight together."

He tilted his cup in a silent toast.

"To the future. Whatever it may hold."

The group drank late into the night, their laughter echoing through the halls.

A Night Beneath the Stars

But long after the others retired to their rooms, Hutson remained awake.

Sitting by the window, he turned his gaze to the vast expanse of the night sky.

Far above, the stars shimmered, distant yet eternal.

With a slow breath, he closed his eyes… and began.

The meditation of the second star had begun.

A Cinematic, Epic Fantasy Adaptation

The meditation of the second star was progressing much slower than the first.

Without Meteor Grass, the process was painfully sluggish—like trying to carve a sculpture with bare hands instead of a chisel.

By the time the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, Emil and the others were still deep in slumber.

But Hutson was already moving.

The Grand Library of Norsetan Academy

He arrived at Norsetan Academy's Grand Library, a circular tower rising six stories into the sky.

In this world, it was an architectural marvel—a monument to knowledge and learning.

But before he could step inside—

A guard blocked his path.

The man's scrutinizing gaze ran over Hutson, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"You're not one of our students." The guard's voice was firm. "Do you have a library pass?"

Hutson remained calm, producing the library card Claude had given him.

"I'm a student of Grand Scholar Claude. This should suffice."

The guard took the pass, inspecting it carefully.

But there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Claude had never taken on a student like this before.

And something about Hutson's presence—the way he carried himself—made the guard uneasy.

This was no ordinary scholar.

This was someone dangerous.

After a moment, the guard straightened. "Wait here. I need to verify this."

"Of course. Take your time." Hutson nodded, unbothered.

There was no need to force his way in—not when patience could open doors just as easily.

The guard seemed to relax at his easygoing demeanor, offering a brief apologetic nod before disappearing into the depths of the library.

Ten minutes later.

The guard returned, his posture entirely different.

More respectful.

Holding the library pass with both hands, he extended it back to Hutson with a small bow.

"Apologies for the delay, Master Hutson. You are free to enter."

Hutson smiled as he took back the pass.

"No trouble at all. Thank you."

With that, he stepped into the great library, where the secrets of the world awaited him.