“Come here.” Jose looked at the lines Richter had drawn as practice. The curves were practically flawless, lacking any inspiration but technically perfect. His expression was a mix of joy and loneliness.

“Is this really your first time learning to paint?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Richter nodded expressionlessly.

He wasn’t actually “painting,” but using his powerful memory and control as a “Sage” to perfectly replicate the lines Jose had drawn as examples, while eliminating any unnecessary trembling or deviations.

The “Sage” profession, which leaned towards absolute rationality, was almost completely incompatible with Jose’s emotional “Painter” profession. He could understand and appreciate Jose’s intentions and the beauty of art, but he couldn’t truly grasp the feeling… But copy-pasting is also a form of creation, right?

Richter felt a little guilty.

“Well… there are geniuses in this world,” Jose sighed, carefully picking up the practice sheets, using a large piece of paper to cover them, and placing them on top of the other papers.

This simple preservation method wasn’t suitable for real paintings, but it was perfect for these simple black and white sketches.

Richter’s gaze darted around.

…Selene and Louise were exchanging information outside. No, it should be Louise unilaterally gathering information… She arrived a day earlier than us. I don’t know how much time has passed for her, and I don’t know how much longer we have to stay… This Jose is a little unfamiliar, different from the one I know, but that’s normal. I met him five years later. It’s normal for his personality and habits to have changed… He has a face. Unlike the others in the box. That’s special. Is he the real Jose?

Richter decided to test him.

“So… Brother Jose,” he asked, his face showing a mix of puzzlement and curiosity, subtle enough that it wouldn’t be obvious, yet clear enough for Jose to notice, “I heard that painters use a kind of… spell called… Preservation…”

He was confident Jose would understand what he meant.

Sure enough, Jose chuckled wryly.

“I’m not that kind of superhuman. I’m just a… conduit. You know? The kind that can only do simple little tricks. That’s not even real magic. It’s just for entertaining children… Ah, I don’t mean you…”

He patiently explained the meaning of the word “conduit” to Richter, his voice clearly showing a lack of confidence.

But Richter felt a chill down his spine. He’d noticed the anomaly, but hid his emotions well. He whispered a few clumsy words of encouragement to Jose, like a real child.

“Brother Jose, your paintings are very good! I’ve seen many famous painters, and they’re not as good as you—really! So, you’ll definitely become a mage who can use magic! Keep up the good work!”

Jose didn’t know what to say to these encouraging words. He knew his own situation. He knew that although he was talented, and with enough effort, he might be able to reach the superhuman level before he died… but in this world, talent alone wasn’t enough. It wasn’t just about being exceptional. Not everyone could achieve their dreams.

He’d known this since childhood.

But this kind of talk didn’t make sense coming from a ten-year-old boy, and he didn’t want to accept this obviously impossible blessing, so he just chuckled awkwardly, not responding. He even subtly shifted his body.

…Richter remembered that the “Grandmaster,” who’d ascended to superhuman in just five short years, would occasionally make these small gestures. It was very naive.

He continued his rambling praise, his toes curling so hard they practically pierced the floor of the carriage. He stopped at precisely the right moment, just as Jose’s emotions were fluctuating, just before Jose was about to use some action to stop him.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Seeing the relieved Jose, Richter sighed softly.

… The term “conduit,” though a familiar concept for every educated superhuman in 1456, ten years later, in the world outside the box, didn’t actually exist in the current year, 1446.

The equivalent term was “apprentice,” and because of the heavy shadow cast by this word from the previous era, the Empress herself had ordered it to be abolished… It was a magnificent, grand, in a sense, great decree, because that decree was like an arrow, a magical artillery shell, completely shattering the last vestiges of the previous era.

In this world, words and information held power. The true names of the gods, “Unknown” level magical artifacts, the scriptures of the major churches, and the title of “apprentice.” The former were derived from gods and inhuman beings. The latter, from humanity itself.

Hearing or seeing the former caused mental shock and strange influences. The latter didn’t. This was the unique characteristic of the word “apprentice.” But this didn’t mean it was completely safe. Its influence extended throughout the Divine Construct, all of humanity, and all superhumans. It influenced the number of superhumans and the conditions for their emergence on a macro level, fixing the number of superhumans at one in ten thousand.

It was said that this was a restriction set by the predecessors of the early Fourth Era, facing death. Through restrictions, through twisted rules, they ultimately survived…

Countless pieces of information flashed through his mind. Richter quickly regained his composure, a naive smile appearing on his face. He asked curiously,

“Brother, can you tell me about your past?”

His left hand, behind his back, silently drew a complex pattern on his clothes and poured a bit of magic into it. His voice and movements carried a subtle suggestive quality.

…Well, those random illusion spells he learned from his apprentices were pretty useful. He thought to himself.

Jose’s gaze wavered slightly. He saw Richter sitting upright, curiosity in his eyes, as if about to say something.

He immediately snapped back to reality, smiling.

“You’ve told your story. Now it’s my turn…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Richter felt the carriage lurch violently, as if it had suddenly moved to the ground and was now being pulled downwards by gravity.

He quickly grabbed onto something nearby. He was about to see if Jose needed help when he noticed that Jose’s entire body had turned black and white, frozen in place, his posture unchanged… as if he were fixed to the “carriage.”

Crash—!

The carriage slammed into the ground, instantly shattering into pieces. The scattered parts flew in all directions, then, as if held by some invisible force, reassembled themselves.

Jose, who had been black and white, instantly returned to normal, excitedly exclaiming,

“So, it’s this time!”

What time?

Richter frowned and opened the carriage door, a vague understanding of the situation forming in his mind—time had moved forward again. The last time, it was from noon to dusk. This time…

A brilliant, starry night sky greeted him. The carriages were arranged in a circle in a flat area, a huge bonfire, five or six meters high, burning in the center. The strangely colored people in the caravan sat cross-legged around the fire, sharing wine and rations. Some took out dried meat. Some held freshly caught fish. They laughed and celebrated another day’s journey, looking forward to the next sunrise.

Richter found Louise and Selene among them… It was hard to say whether they were brave or foolish. They were now completely integrated into the group. Selene was holding two pieces of bread, smearing one with butter and the other with gravy, eating heartily.

Louise wasn’t as shameless, but she had blended in perfectly, bargaining with a merchant who had all kinds of alcohol, trying to get some low-alcohol sweet wine.

Night had fallen.

Richter turned his head and gave Jose a meaningful look.

When they’d said they “wanted to find Jose,” time had moved forward to dusk. When he’d said he “wanted to hear Jose’s story,” time had jumped to a bonfire gathering at nightfall… Even if he wasn’t the real Jose, he was definitely the key to this world in the box.

“Everyone’s having fun. Brother, let’s go join them,” Richter said, pulling Jose out of the carriage.

Selene and Louise, seeing him, clearly sighed with relief. It was as if they had only been wandering around to find him… No, there was definitely also a part of them that wanted free food and drinks.

The four of them found a spot by the bonfire, settling down on a fallen log that Louise had conjured.

“Ah, Miss Selene, Miss Louise,” Jose awkwardly greeted them, subtly shifting his position, moving slightly away from the two girl.

Richter glanced at him and sat down in the empty seat between them, making Jose relax again.

“Brother, you haven’t finished your story yet,” Richter urged.

“Ah, is that so? Sorry, I don’t have a good memory,” Jose scanned his surroundings, noticing that everyone seemed to be drinking and chatting in small groups. He felt a little more at ease.

He pondered for a moment, saw the other three exchange glances, then look at him with curious expressions. Their synchronized movements made him instinctively shudder.

“Ahem… there’s not much to say. I’m just an ordinary person,” Jose said after a moment of thought, “Don’t blame me if it’s not very interesting.”

The three nodded in unison.

“Well… It was about twenty-eight years ago. I was born in a very remote village. There were only a few hundred permanent residents. Although it was near the capital, it didn’t have any strategic importance or valuable resources,” Jose spoke softly. “The sky there was gray. The river was pale green. Everything was covered in a hazy layer of dust. It probably didn’t look like a good place. Even passing merchants rarely went there. Throughout the year, only government officials would come to do some investigations… and they wouldn’t stay long.

“That place was very remote. Very, very remote.”