NOVEL NEXT Chapter 21 - Sage
Scene 021 Sage
Every story has a protagonist, and the original novel Another World is no different. The central figure is Peter Wingfield, a descendant of a hero. Gifted with the power to wield all elemental magic, Peter is also Wendy’s older brother.
In the original story, Peter left the empire as a child, embarking on a grand adventure to faraway continents. He was a boy with an adventurous spirit, traveling through numerous lands and growing into adulthood along the way. Eventually, Peter uncovered the truth of his heritage — that he was the descendant of a great hero. Understanding his destiny, Peter returned home to the Mekhael Empire as a hero.
As a fan of the novel, I liked Peter too. But now? He’s the one person I want to avoid. Why, you ask? Because I don’t want to die.
In the original story, Tristan kills Wendy after subjecting her to horrible abuse. Enraged, Peter takes revenge on Tristan. Wendy’s death marks the beginning of my downfall. But that was the original plot.
In the online game’s storyline, things unfold differently. Peter Wingfield, the original protagonist, is missing. The hero who was supposed to gather allies and save the world from the Demon King is nowhere to be found. So, someone has to take his place — that’s where the players from another world come in. Naturally, they’re meant to assume Peter’s role. But before they even confront the Demon King, the players end up destroying the world.
Quite ironic, isn’t it?
Wendy, like her brother, has inherited the hero’s blood, which blesses her with “all-element” magic — a rare gift bestowed only upon the descendants of heroes. Wendy isn’t just a background character; she’s an extra with extraordinary talent.
“This is unreal….” Mondri murmured, stunned as he watched the gleaming golem. He was responsible for the barrier around the arena due to Myohail’s participation in the trial. It was a solid barrier, worthy of the Cremonte family’s reputation. Although only a false rector, Mondri was also one of the sage Myohail’s disciples. He was one of the few people in this era who could be considered close to a sage.
With a trembling voice, Mondri spoke, “The hero… has the hero returned?!”
No, you old fool. That’s not it.
******
“Wingfield….”
Wendy’s golem shimmered with all magical elements, sparkling like a rainbow as if it were floating in a mirage. Watching the scene, long-forgotten memories came flooding back to Myohail — memories from when he wasn’t in his current body when he was still human. Back then, he wasn’t Myohail but a wandering mage, a misfit traveling the world, studying magic in hopes of becoming a sage, the pinnacle of all wizards. It was during the time when the Demon King had plunged the world into chaos.
“I’m Grace,” the woman introduced herself, extending her hand one day while he was selling potions at a roadside stall to fund his travels. “I’m the hero destined to save this world.”
“Oh, that kind of story, huh? Sorry, I don’t sell drugs. If you’re looking for something hallucinogenic, try the tent over there.”
“You’re hired. From now on, you’re part of my team.”
“Are you even listening to me?” He thought she was crazy. He never imagined she was the real hero — or that she’d become a comrade with whom he’d share life and death, or the only woman he’d ever love.
Grace was strong, blessed by the gods with an overwhelming talent for magic, and unparalleled beauty. On the battlefield, her long hair flowed behind her as she wielded her sword with grace, almost as if she were dancing. He couldn’t help but fall in love with her. But he knew he couldn’t love her: she was too radiant, too brilliant for a misfit wanderer like him. Just being by her side seemed enough for him.
After countless battles, on the eve of their final showdown with the Demon King, Grace finally spoke to him.
“Hey, potion seller.”
“Yes, Grace?”
“Don’t you think it’s about time you told me your name? We’re about to fight the Demon King, and I don’t even know your name.”
“…Wingfield.”
“And your last name?”
“I don’t have one. I’m an orphan.”
“Heh… just like me. I’m an orphan too.”
“Is that so?”
“So, if we got married, would I become Grace Wingfield?”
“Pfft! M-married?! Wh-what are you talking about?!”
“Hahaha! Look at your face, Wingfield! I didn’t know you could make expressions like that.”
“Wait a second! Wouldn’t that make me Wingfield Wingfield?! Are you messing with me?!”
“Hehe, isn’t it cute? Or we could go with Grace Wingfield.”
Grace laughed, and for the first time, so did Wingfield. The day after they revealed their feelings for each other, they defeated the Demon King.
For saving the world, Grace was hailed as a saint, and Wingfield was recognized as a great mage. But he still had one dream left to achieve: becoming a sage.
“Are you really leaving?” Grace asked.
“Yes….”
“Can’t you stay with me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s so important about becoming a sage? You’re already an incredible mage!”
“Grace, becoming a sage has been my lifelong dream.”
“And that’s more important than me…?”
“Because you’re important to me, I want to become a sage.” Wingfield placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to climb the Magic Tower and face the trials. I promise I’ll return to you as a sage, so I can stand proudly by your side.”
Grace took his hand and placed it on her swollen belly. “You stubborn fool…. You’d better apologize to the baby too, not just me.”
“I’m sorry….”
“By the time you return, our child might be so big you won’t even recognize them. Feel them now — they’re ours.”
Wingfield could feel the life growing inside her through his touch. “Grace, thank you for understanding.”
“Don’t forget. I didn’t fall in love with the great mage Wingfield. I fell in love with the wandering potion seller. So… make sure you come back to me. If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you. Got it?”
“Of course.”
And with that, Wingfield set off on his long and arduous journey. Perhaps it was even more difficult than their quest to defeat the Demon King. After countless brushes with death, he finally reached the Magic Tower at the farthest edge of the continent.
The trials within the Magic Tower were anything but easy.
Wingfield endured over and over again, to the point where he nearly gave up. But he persevered, solely to return to her. A long time had passed.
At last, he became a sage. What was expected to take four years took only three, for he was a genius. Wingfield, who ascended the Magic Tower, became the first sage in history.
Without hesitation, he returned home. For a sage like him, it was a simple task. In an instant, he arrived at the house where he and Grace once lived.
“Now, she will welcome me,” he thought.
“Grace!” he called, but no answer came. Something felt wrong. The home they had built together in the small village was nowhere to be found.
Did I come to the wrong place?
But there was no way Sage Wingfield could have made a mistake.
“Grace!” he shouted again.
A voice responded, hesitant. “Could it be… Wingfield?”
“That voice… Hans?!”
It was Hans, his neighbor. But Wingfield was struck with disbelief. In just three short years, his kind neighbor had changed beyond recognition.
“Wingfield! It’s really you! You’re back!” Hans exclaimed.
“Yes, it’s me. I’ve returned. But… where is Grace? Where is our home?” Wingfield asked, his voice trembling with urgency.
“Well, you see…” Hans trailed off, his eyes filled with anger, hesitation, and sorrow. He sighed deeply. “Why have you come back only now…?”
“…What happened?” Wingfield demanded.
Hans’ voice dropped. “While you were away, Grace was accused of being a witch.”
A witch?
Impossible. Grace was a saint. Who could dare call her a witch?
“It was the king’s order.”
“What…?”
“After you and Grace defeated the Demon King, people began to turn against the king.”
“How does that even make sense? What does that have to do with the king?” Wingfield asked, confusion and frustration rising.
“As you know, people praised her as a saint… and that caught the king’s eye. The royal army came to this village and took Grace away….”
“For such a petty reason… No, that’s not important now. Hans. Where is Grace? Where is she?”
Hans sighed and gestured for Wingfield to follow him. He led the sage to a secluded corner of the village, where there lay a small, humble grave.
“She was falsely accused of witchcraft, dragged to the capital, and… I heard they burned her at the stake,” Hans said quietly.
Wingfield said nothing. His rage was quiet but powerful.
“I’m sorry. We couldn’t even find her remains… so this grave is all we could do.”
Wingfield heard nothing more. Despair consumed him.
That day, he departed for the kingdom.
And there, he erased everything. He erased the screams, the cries, even death itself.
On that day, the capital of the ancient kingdom vanished from the world.
And so did the man named Wingfield.
Or so it should have been…
A thousand years later, Myohail looked at the enormous golem and felt joy. It was proof that the bond between him and her, had not disappeared. Though a millennium had passed, here it stood before him.
“I’m sorry I only found you now…,” he whispered.
Wendy’s golem swung its arm, and Myohail’s golem took the blow without a care. She was still so painfully inexperienced.
She may have the blood of a hero, but a novice is still a novice. Her magic wasn’t enough to challenge him.
No, she had talent, but she lacked skill. She lacked experience.
Of course, she could never defeat Myohail.
He had thought her dangerous because of her dark magic and intended to kill her here. But…
Myohail watched Wendy awkwardly control her golem. He gazed at what he thought had long since disappeared. He gazed at her trace.
“…No,” he murmured.
He had believed that after a thousand years, his heart had grown numb, that nothing could stir him again. But Myohail’s golem had slowed. His magic was leaking out.
“This is troublesome….”
At that moment, Wendy’s golem threw a punch. Radiant magic scattered like a rainbow after the rain.
That obvious attack… he couldn’t dodge it at all.
Boom.
The fist of the golem slammed into the chest of the golden golem. The ground trembled, and Myohail’s golem staggered violently.
In that instant, Myohail locked eyes with Tristan Ruelberta, who sat silently on a bench, observing the test.
With perfect composure, Tristan looked at Myohail as though he knew everything.
“Could this be what you wanted, Tristan…?”
With a loud crash, Myohail’s golem collapsed.