"I am very interested in your spells, as I have never encountered similar magic before." The black-robed mage stood on the shore, as if he were already part of this world, unnoticed anywhere. No one would pay attention to the air around them, nor to the dust beneath their feet, because this is all too ordinary — and this is the effect the black-robed mage creates.

"Then you are welcome to come aboard." Lynch waved at him, making a gesture of "please" with his hand. "I suppose you haven't made your own means of transportation, have you?"

The black-robed mage nodded, his eyes emitting a glow of approval. He gently shifted his body, and in the next moment he was aboard Lynch's ship. Then, he made no difference from our mage, letting the relaxing air of the comfortable environment on the ship fill his lungs. However, unlike what Lynch had expected, the black-robed mage did not stop coughing, but instead it became more intense. He bent over in pain, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, where blood gradually seeped out. He was like a rider on a wild horse, his whole body jolting. After a while, he slowly straightened up, holding onto the ship's railing.

"What exactly is wrong with your illness?" Lynch asked. "I can concoct many kinds of potions, maybe they could be of help."

"I have that skill too, red-robed one." He tucked the handkerchief deep into his sleeve and then said to Lynch: "This is my own choice, and I have actually gotten used to it all, just like a devil has adapted to Bator's harsh climate. It has become inseparable from me."

Lynch nodded, able to understand the meaning behind the black-robed mage's words. Compared to the fragile human opposite him, Lynch himself also gave up quite a lot to pursue the dreams in his heart. He even gave up the right to dream in order to find his own meaning. He couldn't say whether such a choice was right, but he would never make such concessions again, because he never wanted to put the right of choice in someone else's hands.

"Anyway, welcome here." Lynch smiled, his expression like that of a master welcoming an old friend. He said: "At least, this way you won't need to use those ships crafted by devils."

"I don't like owing people." The black-robed mage said: "Usually I would repay the debt, or eliminate the need to repay it. Judging by the effect of your spellcasting yesterday, you're probably not yet my match." Even when discussing killing and life and death, the black-robed mage's tone remained very calm. He said: "However, you do have your own style in spell usage. We can try exchanging a few ideas."

Although his abilities were directly pointed out as being inferior to the other's, Lynch had no intention to refute. Within the body plagued by illness opposite him lay an extremely powerful force, sufficient to let him confidently face any challenge. Although the black robe looked younger than him, Lynch always felt that the other had traversed a journey through time beyond imagination, already far ahead of him. The mage nodded, agreeing to the invitation of exchange. Learning from such a black-robed mage was a rare opportunity.

And so, the two mages lived on the ship, leaving all other tasks to Eryies. Helpless, the Desire Demon managed everything they encountered along the way — rapids, strong winds, and the malicious collisions from other ships. Fortunately, Lynch's ship was very sturdy, always able to neutralize all attacks with counteracting force.

Lynch focused his energy on studying advanced magic, while the black-robed mage was deeply engrossed in all theories about creation magic. Besides the violent coughing, almost nothing could interrupt their discussions — about magic, about strategies. Sometimes, the black-robed mage would stealthily capture some devils from other ships to demonstrate those higher-level spells.

Having the chance to approach these challenging spells had always been Lynch's desire. Although his own magical ability had long surpassed his past highest level, he hadn't had the time to return to the Magic Association, and thus couldn't read those more advanced magic books. If it weren't for secretly bringing out some arcane scrolls that exceeded his original ability, Lynch wouldn't even be able to use magic like "Death Finger" now. The black-robed mage knew about this shortcoming of Lynch's, and the advanced magic in his hands seemed never-ending. Each time Lynch thought he had exhausted the other's spells, he would be surprised by the appearance of new incantations.

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