Wolf looked around and confirmed that he was no longer in the cozy room. It was daytime, but he couldn’t tell the exact time. The forest was shrouded in a perpetual twilight during the day hours and pitch blackness during the night, which made it next to impossible to tell the exact time. Almost immediately, Wolf noticed that the plaque with the text was nowhere to be found.

The boy slowly exited the cracked rock. No matter how hard he tried he saw no signs indicating that there is any sort of a trial here.

How did I even find this place last time? Did I have that map?

Wolf wondered as he walked into the small camp his father had made, not three meters to the left of the opening. The camp was empty, but the smell of smoke still lingered in the air. Wolf placed his hand above the fire-pit and from the heat he could tell that there were still some embers hiding under a thin layer of ash.

At a glance he knew that Archibald was most likely safe and sound. There were no traces of blood, nor signs of struggle, nor any deep footprints to indicate a battle. Wolf’s tracking skills were still lacking, so he couldn’t tell where his father had snuck off to. But as long as Archibald was safe, something as trivial as his current whereabouts hardly mattered.

Wolf heaved a sigh of relief before realizing that he had done a number of things by instinct. Instinct Wolf didn’t have prior to coming to this place.

The benefits of visiting that cave really were enormous.

Wolf smiled at the thought, then found himself a place to sit down and wait for his father’s imminent return. For a moment Wolf considered inspecting his Mind Hall, but eventually decided against it. He was still in a very dangerous part of the world.

An hour later Archibald stealthily returned. He was greatly surprised to see his son’s profile. The boy was waving his arms as he went through the motions of several spells he hadn’t mastered yet.

“Son, you’re already out? What are you doing?”

“Hey father! I got out less than an hour ago. I was just making myself busy while waiting for you. What have you been up to?” Wolf noticed his father’s approach long before the man spoke, but kept practicing as if he hadn’t.

Archibald smiled and raised a carcass of some wild bird he had managed to hunt down. “Dinner. Don’t mind me, you just focus on practicing. Supper will be ready in no time.”

Just like that, father and son sat next to each other, each did their own thing. Even though Wolf failed to notice this, Archibald enjoyed the wonderful feeling. Even being away for a couple of hours from your child is a difficult thing, let alone several days.

Once the food was ready the pair started talking while eating. Wolf had a need to say that this wasn’t polite, but held back. Instead the boy gave a rough account of what had happened inside the cave, while Archibald listened and nodded. Wolf didn’t go into fine detail and kept the story short. Unlike before, when he would simply blurt out everything that had happened, the boy now knew that his father would ask whatever he wished to know.

Archibald naturally had quite a few questions. After hearing the answers he nodded deep in thought.

“You have been at a marvelous place. Outside only five days had passed, but from what you said, decades went by for you. It could have been even longer, you may have even experienced a couple of centuries worth of events.”

“But they were all illusory. Besides that person said that they purged most of those experiences.” Wolf tried to downplay the importance of what he had gone through in the dreamscape.

“No, they were real. There were quite a few debates on the subject and I tend to agree with the minority on that one. Namely, what is illusory and what is real is determined by the one experiencing the illusion. If that wasn’t the case, illusion magic would be pointless and impotent.”

“Even though your experiences may have been erased, they still left their mark on you. For instance, this whole time you addressed me as father, while before you used to call me dad. I can tell that your gaze is somewhat sharper and that you keep glancing around, making sure we’re safe. All of those are subconscious habits.”

Habits a five year old child should not have. Archibald was about to say this, but shut his mouth in time.

He was proud and sad about his son at the same time. The pride came naturally, Wolf now truly had the bearing of a grown man. Even though Wolf was just a child, he gave off the air of self-sufficiency. As for the man’s sadness… Archibald was downcast because his son’s childhood had apparently ended before he had turned six years old. Even though this is what Archibald had wanted, so that his son could live safely once he was gone, it was still a cruel thing.

Instead of being a carefree child, Wolf was now a tiny adult. He now had all the burdens that came attached with his new status. At least Archibald was glad that Wolf was unharmed and that he didn’t go through another round of torture like the one he did with the elixir of Magma Marrow.

“Oh, right, I have a question for you father. The person sitting in the chair mentioned something about your soul being damaged?” Wolf gave Archibald a serious look that was utterly out of place on a child’s face.

“It’s nothing important…” Archibald started talking with the intent of making the injury sound trivial, but Wolf’s no nonsense look stopped him in his tracks.

“Father?” The boy said with the sharpness one used to rebuke a naughty child.

“Oh, fine… Years ago your father suffered an injury to his soul. That’s the reason I can’t really use magic unless there’s an emergency. That’s the only downside of it. I’m already an old man. Much older than you imagine and I’m still hale and hearty considering my age. In fact I should live long enough to see my grandchildren.” Archibald said the last bit with a strange smile as he gave Wolf an odd wink.

He was completely unaware that Wolf stopped talking not because he believed him, but rather because Archibald touched upon what Wolf found to be one of the greatest taboos of his future. The subject of offspring. Wolf felt a sense of shame that the legacy of his father and mother would end with him. Archibald noticed Wolf’s awkward face and thought that his son had come across the way babies were made during his time in the dreamscape and with an equally embarrassed expression dropped the subject.

An awkward silence ensued and father and son finished their meal without saying a word. Talking about adult topics with one’s child is always a touchy thing, unless it’s about magic and academics and swordplay. As for the fumbling through the subject the way Archibald and Wolf just did… Well, it ensured that no verbal exchange would happen during the meal and propriety would be respected.

Once the food had disappeared, Archibald bade Wolf good night and the boy went to sleep, while the father stood guard.

Inside his Mind Hall, Wolf’s Mental Aspect opened his eyes and was amazed by the sight before him.

Instead of five columns, his Mind Hall now had eight! The mists were pushed back, revealing a great deal of new, uneven floor ready to be smoothened out. This was most likely what the ancient voice wanted to show the boy. The changes to his Mind Hall were indeed a very valuable gift. Wolf now felt embarrassed because he was about to ask for more, even though the owner of that voice had already done so much for him.

Wolf roughly estimated that this blessing had saved him at least three years. That was assuming he abided by the rule of not using Soul Force for anything other than expanding and refining his Mind Hall.

“Damn! The carvings I made in the trial have disappeared!” Wolf’s Mental Aspect muttered a curse, then grinned in a mocking manner.

He truly was a greedy Wolf, always asking for more… Shaking his head at his inappropriate thoughts, Wolf went back to carving the fourth column. It was already smoothened out completely, while the carvings of the lower third were completed. From what Wolf could see this column depicted violent clashes between the elements.

Archibald once spoke about the number of basic elements, about which Mages apparently quibbled. Two, four, five, seven, eight, ten, twelve… None of those numbers was the correct one.

Looking at what was currently depicted on the fourth column, Wolf could tell that there was probably an infinite amount of elements. Frozen water was different from water, but then again, no two pieces of ice were the same. Fire born out of wood was different from the one that appeared when burning coal. Since all fuel was different, it was only natural for all fires to be different. Looking at the column Wolf felt that trying to divide wholes into basic building blocks was a fool's errand. Things are what things are.

Just like language, as the old man had said, this was also simply a standardized approximation. Worse still, since words were needed to convey it, it was even more flawed than language. At most you could make elemental categories or types and then band them together like that.

While Wolf was thinking about this he was actually touching upon the very essence of True-Naming. There is no one True Name for water. All of them are slightly different and knowing a True Name was actually knowing to distinguish the correct one in the infinite sea of wrong ones. Otherwise any idiot could go around with a book full of True Names and perform high magic.

Wolf was very close to figuring this out, yet failed to grasp it. He was too absorbed in the play of elements that was captured by the carvings and ultimately strayed from what was truly important. He had also failed to realize one more thing. How did a five and a half year old child get the inspiration to fashion something like these columns?

Fantastical creatures and intertwined plants could be explained to some extent. The third column that depicted the process of mastering the sword was something made out of his memory, but the fourth one... Well, its mysteries really weren't something a mere child should be able to even imagine, let alone properly depict in carved form.

After he had spent an unknown amount of time in a daze, Wolf got back to work. The chisel that had subtly grown to match his hand materialized as soon as Wolf willed it. Then the boy continued carving the fourth column. While working, Wolf entered a trancelike state, just like every time. His hands moved on their own making the impossibly intricate designs that seemed to have a life of their own.

Archibald's lessons:

Long ago the Empire of Human was in the center of the ten races of man. Instead of living in bliss on account of Monster Beasts never attacking them in beast waves, humans tried to conquer the lands of their neighbors.

Needless to say those neighbors weren't happy with this arrangement and came up with a response...