You can read ahead up to 110 chapters on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395
The magic of memory was still unfolding.
Along with the Raven's slightly sharp voice, countless threads wove together to form a clear picture of the memories in Merlin's mind, stretching from childhood to adulthood.
The four seasons.
Shifting and changing.
The interplay of light and shadow in the forest gradually transformed as the cycle of the seasons swiftly flowed through Merlin's memories.
The scenery around him shifted from the tender green of spring to the lushness of summer to the golden hues of autumn and finally to the silver-white of winter, repeating again and again.
Amidst these changes, the young Merlin gradually grew into a tall, upright youth.
The black raven had always remained by his side, like a strict mentor.
"Slow down, slow down."
Ian wanted more information. Of course, he couldn't allow Merlin's past to be skimmed through so quickly. He felt that Merlin was deliberately trying to hide something.
And sure enough, upon hearing Ian's words, Merlin realized he couldn't bluff his way through like this anymore. With a sigh, he adjusted the flow of his memory's projection. He clearly had the pretentious unwillingness of someone who didn't want their embarrassing past exposed.
And so,
As Merlin's memory played out more slowly,
Still within the forest near the monastery, spring returned to the earth, and all things were revived. That fairy-tale-like forest radiated an even greater vitality.
Tender green buds sprouted from tree branches. Across the grassland, wildflowers of every color bloomed in competition. A gentle breeze blew through, and the blossoms swayed, releasing waves of enchanting fragrance.
Little Merlin still lived there.
However,
Playtime had clearly been cut down and replaced with all sorts of studying.
The young Merlin sat beneath an ancient oak tree, holding a tattered magic book in his hand, his brows furrowed as he struggled to comprehend its contents.
Though his face was still tender with youth, his eyes carried the unmistakable aura of a study tyrant. He flipped through books with remarkable speed; to him, reading was synonymous with mastering.
At this point,
Even Ian couldn't help but click his tongue in astonishment.
At this rate of study, perhaps only when he himself was learning dark magic could he surpass Merlin. In the field of dark magic, after all, Ian already possessed the ability to master something just by hearing about it once.
It was then that Ian noticed a raven appear in the distance. Although Merlin hadn't lifted his head, every hair on his body stood on end as if he possessed a kind of "spider sense" tuned specifically to ravens.
Little Merlin instantly became as tense as if he were facing a deadly enemy.
Yet, he didn't dare get up and flee.
Back during their first meeting, he had already proven with action that two-legged creatures weren't just slower than four-legged ones, they couldn't outpace winged birds that could also teleport.
Sure enough, the Raven streaked down like a bolt of black lightning, diving straight from the sky and landing on a stone in front of Merlin.
"You're here, little brother." The Raven ruffled its wings, locking its golden eyes onto Merlin. With that sharp voice, it said: "Today, Lord Crow God will train you diligently."
Hearing this, little Merlin's face twisted, looking almost as sour as a gourd. Yet the raven ignored his expression and immediately began supervising his magic practice.
"Today, we'll start with Fire Release. Watch closely: the Great Fireball Technique." The raven said as it spread its wings and formed hand seals. Instantly, the air around them thickened and grew heavy.
"..."
As he saw this memory, Ian felt as though countless grass mud horses were stampeding through his mind. He finally understood why Merlin had gone berserk with his hand seals while casting magic earlier.
It turned out that this was where he had learned his "flower-shaking hands"!
Beside him, Merlin remained calm, staring at his younger self with eyes full of recollection. Clearly, he didn't consider this way of casting magic improper.
This was obviously not the "black history" he had been trying to cover up.
"Fire Magic!"
When the time came to study magic, young Merlin was far less resistant than before. His eyes were serious and brimming with curiosity. He stared unblinkingly at the fiercely flaring fireball.
Starting with the size of a basketball, it swelled to the size of a miniature sun, scorching the earth below as if it had suffered some undeserved calamity. Little Merlin studied how the raven cast magic with full concentration, taking in every detail.
His own hands tried to imitate the raven's wing-like hand seals. They were clumsy at first but showed promise. He was a good seedling for "flower-shaking hands." The kind that would make Qīnghǎi Shake shout with joy and call him a true holy son of the sect.
Very soon,
Little Merlin successfully conjured a small fireball. This was an astonishingly fast learning curve, enough to drive any Hogwarts student into despair.
However,
"Not big enough! Not big enough! Feel your magic power! Pour out your magic power! Bigger is the truth! Bigger is the king's way!" The raven scolded, clearly dissatisfied.
Merlin's face turned red with effort, but he could only produce a fireball about the size of a small truck. The raven immediately flew up and pecked another lump onto Merlin's head.
'So strict!'
'No wonder Merlin reacted as though he were seeing a living nightmare whenever the raven appeared.'
"Remember, Merlin, the essence of magic is the extension of will. You can only truly master it when you believe you can do it." The raven's teachings were pure gold.
Pure gold.
Little Merlin fell into thought and a slight comprehension dawned.
He cast magic again.
This time, a fireball as large as an airplane appeared.
"Hmm, not bad. But you still need more practice. Kekekekeke! I really am an outstanding mentor!" The raven flapped its wings in satisfaction and flew off into the distance.
It left behind an eerie laugh that made Ian watching this memory twitch at the corners of his mouths. From then on, the raven seemed to appear here once every seven days.
It taught Merlin magic, alchemy, and potions. Little Merlin was clearly living with both pain and joy. The harshness that targeted him was so precisely that it gave him nightmares.
Yet, the allure of learning such wondrous knowledge and magic was too great to give up. Thus, little Merlin continued to grow under the raven's relentless training, often with fresh lumps on his head.
Because of these bumps, the people in the monastery thought he had a strange illness. Merlin never explained; he simply continued to immerse himself in this painful yet fulfilling life.
Of course,
Such days continued until summer passed. Despite Merlin's adaptability, he finally reached his limit.
Spring passed, and autumn arrived, but Merlin's training never stopped. The raven demanded that he study magic, alchemy, and potions and forced him to practice swordsmanship and physical training.
Every morning, Merlin ran through the forest until his legs gave out. In the afternoon, he swung a wooden sword until his arms ached. At night, by candlelight, he had to read thick tomes of magic until his eyelids fought to close.
"Aren't I supposed to be a wizard? Why do I still have to run? Why do I have to push, lift, and haul these lumps of iron the way you say?" Little Merlin couldn't help but question the raven.
In response, the raven dive-bombed him, executing the infamous "monkey steals the peach" in a bird's own way. Little Merlin had never suffered such an assault. He rolled on the ground and wailed like a child.
"Remember, you are Merlin! If you're not an all-around warrior, then what kind of Merlin are you? How can you even call yourself Merlin?" The raven constantly nagged the boy with these words.
"But I'm just a child. Why must I push myself so hard?" Little Merlin truly felt wronged, yet no one asked why his eyes were always brimming with tears.
(To Be Continued…)