Dear Glen, we have arrived in Bult. He received Ricky and me with great warmth. Thank the Lord. Bult's business has flourished; he has established a second factory, seemingly manufacturing parts for some sort of apparatus. I'm not quite well - versed in it. He has arranged everything for us, and I'm certain Ricky and I will lead a comfortable life. Thus, you needn't be concerned about us.

  Bult dotes on Ricky. During his leisure hours, he frequently takes Ricky to the Cathedral Square in the city. There, the missionaries of Saint Servius organize a variety of activities. Everyone is so entranced by the liveliness that they loiter with reluctance to leave. You must pay a visit if you have the opportunity.

  I informed Bult about your circumstances. Initially, he was incredulous, suspecting that I was deceiving him. After much explanation on my part, he was reluctantly convinced. He asked me to convey to you that becoming a mage is an even more remarkable feat than his own achievements. You must persevere with courage and assurance. Should you encounter any difficulties, he will render his full support. If your business falters, you needn't continue. He is more than capable of providing for all of our siblings.

  Sangis and the others also sent word that they have been faring well recently. It appears that everything is taking a positive turn. I wish I could wholeheartedly believe so, yet Bult informed me that he has been investigating the culprit who murdered our parents. Despite making no tangible progress, the perpetrator seemingly detected his efforts and took certain actions. Subsequently, Bult dared not pursue the investigation any further. He also bade me tell you to steer clear of this matter.

  That's all for now.——With love, Danni.

  Glen put away the letter and stroked his chin in contemplation.

  The original owner's parents' demise was rather peculiar, and the hasty determination of the case by the police indicated that the murderer's power was no trifling matter.

  Most likely, it was a business rival. The original owner's father was quite astute in business, a veritable magnate. For someone to be able to eliminate him so effortlessly, it's probable that high - level transcendent forces were at play... Glen mused, his gaze falling upon the workers toiling away.

  "Mr. Glen, several of the elves were working with remarkable efficiency just now. I believe they hold great potential and are worthy of cultivation," Kyle, who had remained nearby, seized the opportune moment to interject.

  "If you think it's viable, go ahead and give it a try," Glen said, waving his hand to indicate that Kyle should handle it.

  He set aside the matter of the murderer for the time being. If an opportunity presented itself in the future, he would avenge the original owner's parents. If the perpetrator came to him, it would be even more convenient, allowing him to follow the trail and uproot the entire operation.

  "Very well, I'll go and speak to them immediately," Kyle said, and was about to turn and leave upon receiving permission, when Glen suddenly called out to him.

  "Wait a moment."

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "What's the matter?" Kyle asked, looking puzzled.

  Glen scrutinized Kyle from head to toe, making him feel rather ill - at - ease.

  Just as Kyle was about to speak, Glen said,"These forest elves are your kin, are they not? Why didn't I see you interacting with them in the days following their arrival?"

  As if confronted with a topic he was loath to face, Kyle showed great reluctance. However, he dared not incur Glen's wrath. His face flushed as he replied,

  "For us elves, our visage holds great significance. In the presence of them, I feel ashamed..."

  Glen understood. Kyle's facial burns were indeed hideous, a complete disfigurement.

  "Then how come you seem to be getting along well with them now?" he continued to inquire.

  "I'm not sure. They approached me of their own accord. Perhaps it was your charm that won them over..."

  Kyle's last words were a testament to his self - preservation instincts.

  How strange. Could these elves be intending to stay here long - term?... Glen decided not to dwell on it. After giving some additional instructions, he turned and left.

  ...

  In an ordinary carriage bound for Dude, an elderly gentleman with a head of fluffy white hair, attired in an old - fashioned gentleman's suit, slowly closed the storybook he had perused countless times.

  His slightly clouded eyes looked ahead, and he murmured softly,"Glen, you must be a genius like me..."

  ...

  Upon returning home, Glen first had a bite to eat. After fending off the little maid's requests for the manuscript, he immersed himself in the study of magic.

  Perhaps due to the enhancement by the giant in the ruins, Glen managed to master all the theoretical knowledge of the dispelling magic within a single day. It was a profound understanding, and all that remained was sufficient practice.

  This was undoubtedly a pleasant surprise for him. Now, he was a true Level - 1 mage.

  Ordinarily, this would have left him too excited to sleep through the night. However, he soon felt drowsy.

  Without much thought, Glen went to bed.

  Though his eyes were shut, his mind involuntarily wandered, recollecting a jumble of things.

  The sky he saw upon first opening his eyes after transmigrating, the two werewolves he killed, all the scenes he witnessed during meditation...

  The scenes kept shifting until a fleeting fragment made Glen feel uneasy.

  It was the stele - like object beneath the Fallen Deity's fleshy mass. For no apparent reason, Glen instinctively felt it was strange.

  At that time, a mere glance had caused his eyeballs to burst. Even now, recalling the stele in his mind still evoked an uncomfortable sensation.

  "Mr. Glen..."

  "Mr. Glen... Mr. Glen..."

  "Mr. Glen!"

  Glen jolted awake and found himself in a desolate wilderness. It seemed familiar. Looking ahead, the familiar sinkhole was still there.

  Behind him, the elven lady was clutching his hand tightly, shouting his name. Her face was flushed red, clearly exerting all her strength.

  Seemingly sensing that he had stopped, Gotaya tentatively called out a few more times and finally heard Glen's response:

  "I'm all right now."

  The elven lady heaved a sigh of relief and slumped to the ground like a deflated balloon, saying with a lingering fear,

  "Mr. Glen, you looked terrifying just now. It felt as though you could transform into a monster at any moment. Had it not been for the forest will's warning, I wouldn't have known you would dash out suddenly."

  Glen paid little heed to Gotaya's complaints. His expression was grim. He had been controlled without his awareness.

  For someone with a high degree of self - control, this was utterly unacceptable.

  He was tempted to go down, tap into more of his potential, transform into an eighth - or ninth - level werewolf, and tear the Fallen Deity below to pieces.

  However, the cost would be too great. He would be squandering a crucial trump card.

  "Mr. Glen, what are you thinking? What exactly happened just now? Why did you suddenly change like that?" Gotaya asked, taking a few steps forward as Glen remained silent.

  "Nothing. It was the doing of the Fallen Deity down there. It seems I've developed some sort of after - effect. I'm itching to obliterate that thing right now," Glen said calmly, though only he knew the extent of the killing intent in his heart.