In less than a week, Wolf learned three new spells and managed to ignore a couple of his father’s lectures. Wolf’s arsenal of Second Order spells now included Mage Armor, Mage Shield, Grease and Fleet of Foot.
Mage Armor and Mage Shield conjured translucent, yet extremely sturdy defenses which guarded the caster against physical attacks. Grease coated a surface or even a creature in a rapidly dissipating, frictionless slime, while Fleet of Foot allowed the target to move one and a half times as fast for several hours per casting.
Archibald claimed that Grease had saved his life on several occasions when he was younger. Wolf thought it was an overstatement. He probably didn’t have cooking oil and used magic so that meat didn’t stick, or something along those lines.
After the whole thing with Detect Poison being the most useful First Order spell, Wolf started taking everything his father said about magic with a grain of salt.
Wolf was slowly figuring out how to cast Magic Dart, a Second Order spell. The magic created between one and seven darts, then sent them stabbing at the target with practically no chance of missing.
Even though enemies could block or parry the missiles, Wolf was very keen on the spell. Frost Ray and Acid Blob, the only two offensive spells Wolf knew, lacked accuracy, especially against distant targets.
It was late in the afternoon and Archibald abruptly halted mid march, interrupting the mumbled words of an incantation Wolf had been droning on ever since the sun rose.
The big man motioned with an open palm behind his back, a signal for his boy to stay silent and not to move.
After looking left and right for a moment, the big man stalked off into the dense undergrowth without making a sound. Archibald preferred them to travel through shrubbery and avoided the open parts of the forest, such as the areas under those towering trees.
As Wolf waited for his father and wondered why they were intentionally making their journey more difficult, he heard a scream cut short.
“Hum…” the dampened cry started, but turned into quiet gurgling a moment later.
Wolf clearly heard the bubbling noise mixed with wheezing. It was coming from a nearby bush, and a moment later his father emerged from that direction. He held a bloody dagger in his right, his gloved hands painted crimson.
“Follow me, Wolf,” the big man whispered urgently. “We have to move fast. Cast Fleet of Foot.”
As he spoke, a cloth appeared in his hand. After he took a moment to clean his gloves and dagger, both the weapon and the rag vanished.
Wolf hurriedly cast the spell, trying to be as quiet as possible about it. Then Archibald rushed through the forest at a pace Wolf found difficult to follow despite the magic giving him an extra push to move faster.
Apparently, Archibald no longer cared about the rustle of leaves, nor the tracks they left behind.
Instead, half a minute later, a small leather pouch appeared in the big man’s hand. He took a pinch of green powder from the bag and threw it behind them.
As the sparkly green dust landed on the ground, the trail they’d made slowly disappeared before Wolf’s eyes. The blades of grass they’d stepped on straightened themselves up while the footprints melded into the soft soil.
Archibald repeated the process a dozen times before finally seeming to relax a bit.
“Dad, what happened?” Wolf asked, seeing his father finally slow his pace and breathe easier.
“There was a hunter stalking prey near us,” the man explained. “Fortunately, I heard him before he noticed us.”
“Did you make him die?” Wolf asked with surprising calm and curiosity.
“I did,” the big man nodded, oblivious to his son’s oddness. “He could have become a problem for us later on. Also, the word is kill, son. Kill.”
Wolf nodded. In his mind, death wasn’t that big of an issue. Sure, he couldn’t see his mom, but he had also experienced death once. As far as Wolf was concerned, death only led to this wonderful life he was living now.
Granted, because of death, he’d forgotten nearly everything from his previous life, and it would’ve been better if he could see his mother. But all things considered, this was a very nice life. Going through the forest with his dad on an adventure to become a Mage and a Sword-Sage was a dream come true for most four-year-olds, even without the Sword-Sage part.
“Today we walk as long as you can endure,” the big man addressed the practical problem before them. “We need to put some distance between us and that hunter’s body. I’ve erased some two kilometers’ worth of tracks, but there’s no guarantee that’s enough.”
While Archibald’s words were solemn, Wolf took them as a challenge. Until now, they hiked for two to three hours before taking a long break. Then they repeated this process as long as there was any light in the forest.
Now that he had a goal, Wolf’s heart pounded with excitement. He wanted to see how long he could walk without stopping. The father and son walked until darkness forced them to make camp.
By then, the boy was exhausted, but happy and proud. They’d covered roughly twenty-five kilometers in just under six hours. Fleet of Foot had ended halfway through. Otherwise, they would have covered even more ground.
As Archibald set up camp, Wolf cleared his throat. He knew you had to clear your throat before saying something important.
“Dad, I’ve been thinking,” he started. “How about I prepare three Fleet of Foot spells tomorrow? We can move faster that way.”
Archibald smiled. He had thought of this long before teaching Wolf how to cast the spell. However, he needed the boy to figure it out on his own.
Now that he had to disguise Wolf’s heritage, Archibald might not even see his son turn twelve before kicking the bucket. He needed Wolf to be independent and to learn how to think for himself.
“That sounds like a great idea,” the man said with an approving smile. “It would be even better if you could learn spells of Third and then Fourth Order. There is a spell of the Fourth Order called Greater Fleet of Foot. It would double your speed and it lasts more than twice as long as the version you know currently.”
“That sounds great,” Wolf exclaimed happily, causing Archibald to shush him.
“Why isn’t that the spell of the Second Order?” Wolf asked quietly. “It would’ve been much more convenient.”
The boy was confused. Why make a regular and then a greater version? Why not simply start off with the greater version and be done with it? Does that mean a Greatest Fleet of Foot exists?
Archibald chuckled when he heard the question. If he’d known of the unasked questions, he might have laughed loudly, despite the need to remain silent.
“Well, there’s a good reason for that,” the big man began his lengthy lecture. “Mages originally only thought of spells as something for combat or evading combat. Following this line of thought, the first movement spell ever invented was Swift Escape…”
Wolf zoned out and continued practicing Magic Dart.
“Hey, are you listening to me? I’m telling you important things about magic,” Archibald grumbled with dissatisfaction.
“Sorry, Dad,” Wolf dragged out his words. “I just don’t understand why that’s more important than learning a new spell.”
Even though he said the words in an apologetic tone, there was as much apology there as when a well-trained parrot cawed them.
“I didn’t tell you?” Archibald intentionally made an overly confused expression and rubbed his chin like he was deep in thought.
“I was certain I mentioned it several times while we were hiking,” the man said, making a show of musing and looking up at the vibrant greenery above their heads.
I didn’t listen before either, Wolf thought, but knew that wasn’t something he should say. Uttering those words was like begging to be spanked.
“So, why is it important?” the boy willingly took the bait and asked.
Archibald harrumphed.
“Well, if you understand how other people created their spells, then you can apply it to create your own magic,” the big man replied offhandedly.
Wolf took a moment to process the statement. The result of which blew his mind, but Archibald just kept talking at a considerably slower pace than usual.
“That way you can make your own wordless, motionless spells,” the big man continued enticingly. “Naturally, that is assuming you have the time to waste on such things. You should know that changing existing spells takes a lot more time than learning an already completed spell someone else had made for themselves.
“However, this small bit of editing is still far simpler than making a brand-new spell without using an existing one as a source of inspiration.” Archibald unwittingly increased his volume bit by bit. “Spells usually have chants and gestures for ease of learning and use. That is why removing these components makes a spell more difficult to cast, which we then compensate for by increasing its Order–”
Wait. Dad really was telling me useful things when he kept on talking without end?
“Wait, Dad,” Wolf interrupted his father. “What’s editing? What’s brand? What’s source? What’s inspiration?”
The boy started asking a bunch of questions about the mumbo-jumbo words his father used. A while later, he came to understand that his father’s lectures really were useful.
“Dad, could you please tell me everything you’ve told me since you started teaching me magic? Just one more time? Please? But talk slower. I have questions. A lot of questions,” Wolf asked sheepishly, but Archibald grinned inwardly.
Hook line and sinker, the old fox thought, but kept a straight face.
“Sure. Even if I don’t mention a single topic of magic, you’re bound to hear it eventually. Once you’re a Mage Academy student, one lecturer or another will repeat everything I’ve said.
“They’ll probably do it more than once. The Mage Academy curriculum is very repetitive, so their lectures will take several years, not a couple of months.” The man slowed his speech as his gaze turned distant.
Archibald recalled how he tried to explain the State of One to half a dozen thirty-year-old elites. Then he remembered their blank stares. At least two of them slept with their eyes open, while another pair read irrelevant books.
“Mage Academies have a problem because students hardly pay any attention to the beautiful things they can learn and just focus on learning new spells,” he continued with his mood dampened, and a note of dissatisfaction leaking into his voice. “I honestly don’t know why that is. I mean, the theory of magic is much more fascinating than just simple spells you’re bound to learn anyway. As for me saying all that stuff again, it’s not a problem.”
All I’ve done these past couple of months is go through my old lectures. Archibald thought, not really minding the fact that he’d have to talk about the same things all over again. As long as Wolf paid attention, he wouldn’t mind repeating it dozens of times.
“We’re getting close to that land of inheritance you mentioned. How about I go through everything again on the way back? But you have to listen carefully. Do you hear?” Archibald feigned a strict tone of voice, wagging his meaty finger at the boy.
“Yes, Dad.” Wolf bobbed his head obediently.
“Good, now, here are the basics. The highest Order of spell you can cast depends on the number of columns you have in your Mind Hall,” Archibald began his lectures anew.
Unlike last time, when he intentionally started with dry theory, the True-Namer now spoke of things which immediately impacted Wolf. As for other, more boring topics, he would toss those in as digressions when he deemed it appropriate.
“We’ll use you as an example.” Archibald opened up with the topic of learning spells, since that was what kids, his past self included, were most interested in. “You won’t be able to cast spells of the Fifth Order until the fifth column appears in your Mind Hall. It doesn’t matter how hard you study.
“On the other hand, if you had seven columns, it would take a relatively minor effort for you to learn spells of up to the Fifth Order. When it comes to learning spells, many factors exist and make things more complicated. Considering your talent, the number of columns, as well as other circumstances, about which I’ll talk about in detail later, you’ll probably need a year or so to break through to the Third Order and probably two to three more to reach the Fourth–”
“Dad what is…” As Archibald taught, Wolf interrupted him often, asking about unknown terms he’d used without thinking.
“Advancing to a new Order, once you’re eligible for it, is considerably easier than developing your Mind Hall and uncovering a new column. You can expand your Mind Hall in several ways. Impactful experiences are a definite way to expand your Mind Hall. The problem is that these are different for everyone. The most universally applicable instance would be the great stress of your life being in danger, or the death of a loved one—” For a moment Archibald choked on his words.
The big man’s lip twisted, and he fell silent for a moment.
He realized that at least one of Wolf’s columns must have manifested after Sky’s death. Another reason for his silence was that Archibald originally planned on silently hanging himself. Preferably somewhere where Wolf couldn’t find his body.
Now that plan would have to change. He realized he could help Wolf even in his final moments. Burning some time of his unnaturally long life to benefit his genius child was a bargain.
Archibald cleared his throat before continuing, hoping Wolf would never find out about the thoughts he was entertaining.
“You can also enhance your Mind Hall by experiencing enlightenment,” Archibald said, forcing himself to sound normal.
“Enlightenment is difficult and apparently random. You need to experience something that will give you a bout of inspiration, an epiphany. If this happens and you gain insight into the inner workings of the world, you must seize the chance immediately or it will go to waste. Even a lifetime may be too short to experience this kind of opportunity. It happened to me only once, but every man’s understanding is unique. If I were to guide you based on the laws I comprehended, I’d only be harming you.” Archibald said seriously, regretting that the greatest achievement of his life would have to die with him. Otherwise he’d be turning Wolf into a mediocrity which is a Sorcerer.
“But there are other, more standard, ways. Such as all kinds of potions, pills and other forms of drugs which can enhance various aspects of a person, including their Mind Hall. The most famous being…”
Archibald's lessons:
There are no set standards one should meet to be considered a World Power. Legends say that a true World Power used to be an Edict-Maker grade Mage. A manling capable of reshaping the laws of the world and bending them to suit their will. Even though I’m certain such men and women existed, such an existence is nothing more than a legend nowadays.
In this modern era of ours the title of World Power is given to a manling with extraordinary personal power. Generally, if a person can control, or at least greatly sway the Ten Empires of Man, assuming they wished to, then they would be considered a World Power. If a powerful man is born in the wrong era he’d end up being an underling, when in a different age he could've been the one to rule the world.
sleepydad88 This chapter was edited thanks to the support from June and July patrons: Auron32, Carla Measner, Connor Kogut, GenericKane, Hammy, Jarloway, Joao Paulo Cambri Fiorin, Johnny Hines, Kai, Magnuss, MrrC, Nonie, Roland Thelefty, shabbybook, Story Seeker, Thundermike00, Tom and warmoger55.
In less than a week, Wolf learned three new spells and managed to ignore a couple of his father’s lectures. Wolf’s arsenal of Second Order spells now included Mage Armor, Mage Shield, Grease and Fleet of Foot.
Mage Armor and Mage Shield conjured translucent, yet extremely sturdy defenses which guarded the caster against physical attacks. Grease coated a surface or even a creature in a rapidly dissipating, frictionless slime, while Fleet of Foot allowed the target to move one and a half times as fast for several hours per casting.
Archibald claimed that Grease had saved his life on several occasions when he was younger. Wolf thought it was an overstatement. He probably didn’t have cooking oil and used magic so that meat didn’t stick, or something along those lines.
After the whole thing with Detect Poison being the most useful First Order spell, Wolf started taking everything his father said about magic with a grain of salt.
Wolf was slowly figuring out how to cast Magic Dart, a Second Order spell. The magic created between one and seven darts, then sent them stabbing at the target with practically no chance of missing.
Even though enemies could block or parry the missiles, Wolf was very keen on the spell. Frost Ray and Acid Blob, the only two offensive spells Wolf knew, lacked accuracy, especially against distant targets.
It was late in the afternoon and Archibald abruptly halted mid march, interrupting the mumbled words of an incantation Wolf had been droning on ever since the sun rose.
The big man motioned with an open palm behind his back, a signal for his boy to stay silent and not to move.
After looking left and right for a moment, the big man stalked off into the dense undergrowth without making a sound. Archibald preferred them to travel through shrubbery and avoided the open parts of the forest, such as the areas under those towering trees.
As Wolf waited for his father and wondered why they were intentionally making their journey more difficult, he heard a scream cut short.
“Hum…” the dampened cry started, but turned into quiet gurgling a moment later.
Wolf clearly heard the bubbling noise mixed with wheezing. It was coming from a nearby bush, and a moment later his father emerged from that direction. He held a bloody dagger in his right, his gloved hands painted crimson.
“Follow me, Wolf,” the big man whispered urgently. “We have to move fast. Cast Fleet of Foot.”
As he spoke, a cloth appeared in his hand. After he took a moment to clean his gloves and dagger, both the weapon and the rag vanished.
Wolf hurriedly cast the spell, trying to be as quiet as possible about it. Then Archibald rushed through the forest at a pace Wolf found difficult to follow despite the magic giving him an extra push to move faster.
Apparently, Archibald no longer cared about the rustle of leaves, nor the tracks they left behind.
Instead, half a minute later, a small leather pouch appeared in the big man’s hand. He took a pinch of green powder from the bag and threw it behind them.
As the sparkly green dust landed on the ground, the trail they’d made slowly disappeared before Wolf’s eyes. The blades of grass they’d stepped on straightened themselves up while the footprints melded into the soft soil.
Archibald repeated the process a dozen times before finally seeming to relax a bit.
“Dad, what happened?” Wolf asked, seeing his father finally slow his pace and breathe easier.
“There was a hunter stalking prey near us,” the man explained. “Fortunately, I heard him before he noticed us.”
“Did you make him die?” Wolf asked with surprising calm and curiosity.
“I did,” the big man nodded, oblivious to his son’s oddness. “He could have become a problem for us later on. Also, the word is kill, son. Kill.”
Wolf nodded. In his mind, death wasn’t that big of an issue. Sure, he couldn’t see his mom, but he had also experienced death once. As far as Wolf was concerned, death only led to this wonderful life he was living now.
Granted, because of death, he’d forgotten nearly everything from his previous life, and it would’ve been better if he could see his mother. But all things considered, this was a very nice life. Going through the forest with his dad on an adventure to become a Mage and a Sword-Sage was a dream come true for most four-year-olds, even without the Sword-Sage part.
“Today we walk as long as you can endure,” the big man addressed the practical problem before them. “We need to put some distance between us and that hunter’s body. I’ve erased some two kilometers’ worth of tracks, but there’s no guarantee that’s enough.”
While Archibald’s words were solemn, Wolf took them as a challenge. Until now, they hiked for two to three hours before taking a long break. Then they repeated this process as long as there was any light in the forest.
Now that he had a goal, Wolf’s heart pounded with excitement. He wanted to see how long he could walk without stopping. The father and son walked until darkness forced them to make camp.
By then, the boy was exhausted, but happy and proud. They’d covered roughly twenty-five kilometers in just under six hours. Fleet of Foot had ended halfway through. Otherwise, they would have covered even more ground.
As Archibald set up camp, Wolf cleared his throat. He knew you had to clear your throat before saying something important.
“Dad, I’ve been thinking,” he started. “How about I prepare three Fleet of Foot spells tomorrow? We can move faster that way.”
Archibald smiled. He had thought of this long before teaching Wolf how to cast the spell. However, he needed the boy to figure it out on his own.
Now that he had to disguise Wolf’s heritage, Archibald might not even see his son turn twelve before kicking the bucket. He needed Wolf to be independent and to learn how to think for himself.
“That sounds like a great idea,” the man said with an approving smile. “It would be even better if you could learn spells of Third and then Fourth Order. There is a spell of the Fourth Order called Greater Fleet of Foot. It would double your speed and it lasts more than twice as long as the version you know currently.”
“That sounds great,” Wolf exclaimed happily, causing Archibald to shush him.
“Why isn’t that the spell of the Second Order?” Wolf asked quietly. “It would’ve been much more convenient.”
The boy was confused. Why make a regular and then a greater version? Why not simply start off with the greater version and be done with it? Does that mean a Greatest Fleet of Foot exists?
Archibald chuckled when he heard the question. If he’d known of the unasked questions, he might have laughed loudly, despite the need to remain silent.
“Well, there’s a good reason for that,” the big man began his lengthy lecture. “Mages originally only thought of spells as something for combat or evading combat. Following this line of thought, the first movement spell ever invented was Swift Escape…”
Wolf zoned out and continued practicing Magic Dart.
“Hey, are you listening to me? I’m telling you important things about magic,” Archibald grumbled with dissatisfaction.
“Sorry, Dad,” Wolf dragged out his words. “I just don’t understand why that’s more important than learning a new spell.”
Even though he said the words in an apologetic tone, there was as much apology there as when a well-trained parrot cawed them.
“I didn’t tell you?” Archibald intentionally made an overly confused expression and rubbed his chin like he was deep in thought.
“I was certain I mentioned it several times while we were hiking,” the man said, making a show of musing and looking up at the vibrant greenery above their heads.
I didn’t listen before either, Wolf thought, but knew that wasn’t something he should say. Uttering those words was like begging to be spanked.
“So, why is it important?” the boy willingly took the bait and asked.
Archibald harrumphed.
“Well, if you understand how other people created their spells, then you can apply it to create your own magic,” the big man replied offhandedly.
Wolf took a moment to process the statement. The result of which blew his mind, but Archibald just kept talking at a considerably slower pace than usual.
“That way you can make your own wordless, motionless spells,” the big man continued enticingly. “Naturally, that is assuming you have the time to waste on such things. You should know that changing existing spells takes a lot more time than learning an already completed spell someone else had made for themselves.
“However, this small bit of editing is still far simpler than making a brand-new spell without using an existing one as a source of inspiration.” Archibald unwittingly increased his volume bit by bit. “Spells usually have chants and gestures for ease of learning and use. That is why removing these components makes a spell more difficult to cast, which we then compensate for by increasing its Order–”
Wait. Dad really was telling me useful things when he kept on talking without end?
“Wait, Dad,” Wolf interrupted his father. “What’s editing? What’s brand? What’s source? What’s inspiration?”
The boy started asking a bunch of questions about the mumbo-jumbo words his father used. A while later, he came to understand that his father’s lectures really were useful.
“Dad, could you please tell me everything you’ve told me since you started teaching me magic? Just one more time? Please? But talk slower. I have questions. A lot of questions,” Wolf asked sheepishly, but Archibald grinned inwardly.
Hook line and sinker, the old fox thought, but kept a straight face.
“Sure. Even if I don’t mention a single topic of magic, you’re bound to hear it eventually. Once you’re a Mage Academy student, one lecturer or another will repeat everything I’ve said.
“They’ll probably do it more than once. The Mage Academy curriculum is very repetitive, so their lectures will take several years, not a couple of months.” The man slowed his speech as his gaze turned distant.
Archibald recalled how he tried to explain the State of One to half a dozen thirty-year-old elites. Then he remembered their blank stares. At least two of them slept with their eyes open, while another pair read irrelevant books.
“Mage Academies have a problem because students hardly pay any attention to the beautiful things they can learn and just focus on learning new spells,” he continued with his mood dampened, and a note of dissatisfaction leaking into his voice. “I honestly don’t know why that is. I mean, the theory of magic is much more fascinating than just simple spells you’re bound to learn anyway. As for me saying all that stuff again, it’s not a problem.”
All I’ve done these past couple of months is go through my old lectures. Archibald thought, not really minding the fact that he’d have to talk about the same things all over again. As long as Wolf paid attention, he wouldn’t mind repeating it dozens of times.
“We’re getting close to that land of inheritance you mentioned. How about I go through everything again on the way back? But you have to listen carefully. Do you hear?” Archibald feigned a strict tone of voice, wagging his meaty finger at the boy.
“Yes, Dad.” Wolf bobbed his head obediently.
“Good, now, here are the basics. The highest Order of spell you can cast depends on the number of columns you have in your Mind Hall,” Archibald began his lectures anew.
Unlike last time, when he intentionally started with dry theory, the True-Namer now spoke of things which immediately impacted Wolf. As for other, more boring topics, he would toss those in as digressions when he deemed it appropriate.
“We’ll use you as an example.” Archibald opened up with the topic of learning spells, since that was what kids, his past self included, were most interested in. “You won’t be able to cast spells of the Fifth Order until the fifth column appears in your Mind Hall. It doesn’t matter how hard you study.
“On the other hand, if you had seven columns, it would take a relatively minor effort for you to learn spells of up to the Fifth Order. When it comes to learning spells, many factors exist and make things more complicated. Considering your talent, the number of columns, as well as other circumstances, about which I’ll talk about in detail later, you’ll probably need a year or so to break through to the Third Order and probably two to three more to reach the Fourth–”
“Dad what is…” As Archibald taught, Wolf interrupted him often, asking about unknown terms he’d used without thinking.
“Advancing to a new Order, once you’re eligible for it, is considerably easier than developing your Mind Hall and uncovering a new column. You can expand your Mind Hall in several ways. Impactful experiences are a definite way to expand your Mind Hall. The problem is that these are different for everyone. The most universally applicable instance would be the great stress of your life being in danger, or the death of a loved one—” For a moment Archibald choked on his words.
The big man’s lip twisted, and he fell silent for a moment.
He realized that at least one of Wolf’s columns must have manifested after Sky’s death. Another reason for his silence was that Archibald originally planned on silently hanging himself. Preferably somewhere where Wolf couldn’t find his body.
Now that plan would have to change. He realized he could help Wolf even in his final moments. Burning some time of his unnaturally long life to benefit his genius child was a bargain.
Archibald cleared his throat before continuing, hoping Wolf would never find out about the thoughts he was entertaining.
“You can also enhance your Mind Hall by experiencing enlightenment,” Archibald said, forcing himself to sound normal.
“Enlightenment is difficult and apparently random. You need to experience something that will give you a bout of inspiration, an epiphany. If this happens and you gain insight into the inner workings of the world, you must seize the chance immediately or it will go to waste. Even a lifetime may be too short to experience this kind of opportunity. It happened to me only once, but every man’s understanding is unique. If I were to guide you based on the laws I comprehended, I’d only be harming you.” Archibald said seriously, regretting that the greatest achievement of his life would have to die with him. Otherwise he’d be turning Wolf into a mediocrity which is a Sorcerer.
“But there are other, more standard, ways. Such as all kinds of potions, pills and other forms of drugs which can enhance various aspects of a person, including their Mind Hall. The most famous being…”
Archibald's lessons:
There are no set standards one should meet to be considered a World Power. Legends say that a true World Power used to be an Edict-Maker grade Mage. A manling capable of reshaping the laws of the world and bending them to suit their will. Even though I’m certain such men and women existed, such an existence is nothing more than a legend nowadays.
In this modern era of ours the title of World Power is given to a manling with extraordinary personal power. Generally, if a person can control, or at least greatly sway the Ten Empires of Man, assuming they wished to, then they would be considered a World Power. If a powerful man is born in the wrong era he’d end up being an underling, when in a different age he could've been the one to rule the world.
sleepydad88 This chapter was edited thanks to the support from June and July patrons: Auron32, Carla Measner, Connor Kogut, GenericKane, Hammy, Jarloway, Joao Paulo Cambri Fiorin, Johnny Hines, Kai, Magnuss, MrrC, Nonie, Roland Thelefty, shabbybook, Story Seeker, Thundermike00, Tom and warmoger55.
