Ovid’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as he tilted his head, staring at the ground below his sandals, he asked, “Then, what is the point of becoming immortal?”
Cai Hua flicked his teacup once again, he said very simply, “Of course, the longer you can live, the more you can learn.”
Ovid replied also in a very simple manner, “That makes sense.”
Cai Hua chuckled upon hearing Ovid’s response, thinking that if Anna were not here, Ovid would certainly be the purest person.
After a bit more chatter, Cai Hua dusted his sleeves that were still stained with a mixture of his and Ovid’s blood, before returning to the carriage. Interestingly, when Cai Hua entered the carriage, he did not occupy the middle of two seats but had rather boldly taken both of the seats, and fell asleep at an astounding rate.
Still looking at his feet, Ovid eventually stood up and began to collect firewood, after he had returned, his expression was a little pale, including his lips.
Ovid smelled the somewhat fruity fragrance produced by the sticks he had burnt, unknowingly, he nudged himself closer toward the flames.
When he was younger, his mother had signed him up for a large variety of summer camps, and thus, his skills in the wilderness were not too lacking.
This part of the empire was quite pleasant, the plentiful rivers making it quite humid, and the southernness of the area making the sunlight much more intense than the North, or the regions surrounding the capital, however, the biennial winds blowing from the cold deserts to the South made the conditions quite tolerable.
Perhaps it was because of these winds, that Ovid felt a little cold, taking out a black blanket, he placed it over his body, carefully checking if none of the edges touched the ground, he felt rather content as he watched the light crackling of the fire.
Anna inspected Ovid with great attention, more than those given to the many animals, insects and plants she had inspected, since Ovid, was far too close to the fire, in fact, the edge of Ovid’s blanket, would be occasionally touched by the embers coming off the flames.
Tilting her head up to look at the bright sun overwatching them, Anna felt uncomfortable next to the fire in such a warm day, jumping off the log she was sitting on, Anna began to wander around the forest, searching for new specimens to study.
It did not take Anna long to arrive at a small set of exuberant hills, whos’ peaks were unusually tall compared to their width. At the peaks of the mountain, colours were widely scattered due to the abundant tree life, perhaps some had remained standing after tens of thousands of years.
Anna squinted her eyes, performing charming crescents as she searched for any rustling in those trees as a sign of animal activity, after seeing a tree fielding blue leaves shaking violently, Anna felt a strong desire to climb the mountain but resigned after realising the difficulties.
Returning to the camp, Anna remarked to Ovid, sounding a little impatient due to the possibility of the animals disappearing, “Can you bring me up the mountain.”
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Ovid turned his head away from the fire to the sky, before turning to Anna, his somewhat purple lips muttering, “The weather here is really weird, sunny at one moment, but cloudy the next.”
Anna looked at the sky, seeing the clouds that were still a little crimson from the sunlight they covered, she smiled and said, “If it’s going to rain soon, we will just wait.”
Ovid hummed and pulled the blankets closer toward himself, he said, “Didn’t Cai Hua give you a manual, can’t you climb the mountain by yourself.”
Ovid was really cold at the moment, perhaps in an attempt to shift his focus away from the feeling, he initiated a conversation, which was quite rare for him to do.
Anna could not feel pleased that Ovid was doing so, however, after a moment of pause, she honestly stated, “I have only read the manual, I haven’t yet managed to utilise mana.”
Ovid sighed, stretching out his hand to indicate Anna to pass the manual for him to read, he suddenly realises that he was still not proficient at this world’s language. Awkwardly taking back his arm, Ovid requested Anna to read the contents of the manual to him.
Anna’s voice was certainly agreeable, like the mild wind of spring, Anna slowly recited the whole manual from the spot she was standing on, without the use the manual itself, Anna would occasionally pause to recall a few things, but otherwise, Anna had firmly imprinted the entirety of the manual in an inhumanly short period of time.
Ovid himself was not that surprised at the feat, as compared to the textbooks he had used in university, the contents were far simpler, but regardless, Ovid commended Anna’s ability, his Heterochromia lighting up as Anna drank a small cup of water to wet her throat.
The contents of the book itself were very detailed, it’s topics describing the various processes taken in all stages, from entering the level of deacons to the mastering of the saint level.
After Anna emptied the cup of its contents, Ovid frowned and said, “The six-element theory that determines the universe is composed of five pure matter is really hard to implement into modern science. But terms like unchanging and the composition of earthy materials that push and pulls from each other due to attraction and repulsion stated by the different elements are really similar to the atoms of modern science.”
After a moment of contemplation, Ovid said, “The closest I can link these six elements, fire, water, air and earth to are the four states of matter, solid, liquid, gas and plasma.”
“The closest state of matter of earth would be solid, in which atoms are orderly, and cannot move, always retaining a fixed volume and shape.”
“Water would naturally imply liquid, the state in which atoms still retain a fixed volume, but are loosely packed together so that it no longer has a fixed shape.”
“Then air would be gas, where atoms are able to diffuse and spread throughout the world.”
“Fire is actually quite interesting, and it took me some time to link it to plasma, where the atoms would possess such a high degree of energy, that the atoms would split into smaller pieces of subatomic particles, and can generate its own magnetic field.”
“Still, to think that the elements such as earth, which is made of a large variety of atoms like silicon, oxygen and carbon, or air, which is a combination largely of nitrogen, oxygen and argon.”
“Then, water cannot be considered a liquid, since it can actually take on all four of the states I mentioned.”
“The worst is fire, which isn’t even made of atoms but is instead a chemical reaction involving gas and hydrocarbon.”
Ovid gradually became more emotion as he spoke, unaware that the corner of his blanket had caught fire, he lectured furiously, “Then there’s aether and chaos, otherwise known as light and dark mana, which seemed to be radiation… and what?”
Anna meanwhile, was too focused on the contents of Ovid’s lecture, her eyes appearing blank and she carefully stores his words within her memory.
“I’m stuck with what seems like an absence of matter, or is it dark matter and dark energy, which doesn’t interact with anything else in the universe.”
The fire crept on Ovid’s blanket as Ovid paused to gather his thoughts after the fire had reached Ovid’s leg, Ovid continued, “Wait, if that is the case, wouldn’t my ability be overwhelmingly powerful, since dark matter and dark energy consist of 95% of the universe.”
Suddenly, the grey sky thundered, and rain began to descend toward earth, it’s meagre droplets quelching the fire on the hastily piled wood, and the dark blanket, which by now, was half burnt.
It was finally then, that Ovid ceased talking, his brow forming thin pieces of ice as the rain touches his body, causing him to look extremely cold.
Ovid’s body shuttered, pulling the blanket toward his body, he finally realised that half of it had been consumed in flames. Needless to say, the clothing the receptionist that tailored sustained no damage, it’s fabric still as excellent as ever, though it was insufficient as an insulator.
Turning toward Anna, Ovid plainly said, “The rain is too cold, I’m returning back into the carriage.”
As he said those words, the small pieces of ice on his brow fell down, though it soon returned, as the rain was rather violent, constantly slamming against Ovid’s pale face.