Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 173 The Silver-Masked Mage
Time flies, and another half month has passed.

Leisher's original plan was to immediately cast the "Beacon Spell" after recovering his strength to contact his colleagues in the mage forest to come and meet him, and to inform them of the situation.

But the problem is that his magic is severely depleted.

So he stayed there for more than a month.
While resting and recovering her magical power, she took the opportunity of Louis's display of magical talent to teach him some basic magic.

From the initial fireball and immobilization spells, to later spells like beam, shockwave, magic shield, lightness, burning arrow, ignition, magic power, slow fall, and resonant touch...

In just over a month, Louis had mastered more than a dozen basic spells of different uses and from different schools of thought!

The pace is too fast, so fast that it feels like knowledge is being devoured rather than being learned.

But the time spent learning magic always comes to an end.

As the weather warmed up, Leahy's health gradually improved.

Lyshill sat in the courtyard, draped in a cloak, the magic at his fingertips shimmering slightly.

His injuries have mostly healed, and his spirits have almost returned to normal.

That day he glanced back at Louis and said, "I'm almost... ready to cast the Beacon Spell."

“A beacon?” Louis looked up in surprise. “You mean, it can contact your companions?”

Leisher nodded: "I've been resting for a while, and I need to tell you the contents of the insect corpse immediately, um, headquarters."

As soon as he finished speaking, magic flowed in his hands, and he began to condense a spell.

The magic at her fingertips slowly spun into a small silver spell ring, like a miniature halo, suspended in the air, emitting gentle but regular fluctuations, as if sending some kind of "echo" to the distant beyond.

And then... nothing more.

There was silence.

Only the runes floated silently in the air, and the wind whistled softly as it blew through them.

There were no portals, no magic circles, and no dazzling spatial rifts.

Everything was eerily quiet.

Louis stood to the side, watching all this, and blinked slightly.

He had a faint smile on his face, but his eyes held a hint of... doubt.

Leith noticed the momentary pause, turned to look at him, and asked with a slightly puzzled expression, "What's with that expression?"

“Uh…” Louis thought for a moment and answered seriously, “I thought there would be a portal that would suddenly appear in the air with a ‘whoosh,’ and then someone would walk out of the light.”

He gestured and described, his eyes even showing a hint of expectation and regret.

Leisher paused for two seconds, then gave a complicated look that said, "I shouldn't expect you to know common sense."

Over time, he learned that this lord sometimes had some abstract ideas.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead: "This is a beacon spell, not a summoning spell."

"Oh……"

Louis feigned a look of sudden realization, "I thought someone would teleport over and take you away."

"..." Leisher paused for a second, his lips twitching slightly.

Clearly, this wasn't the first time he'd heard such "amateurish fantasies," but he still couldn't help rolling his eyes every time.

He explained helplessly, "Teleportation? You think it's as simple as farting?"

He paused, then adopted a slightly more serious tone: "Teleportation does exist, but it's a high-level spell that consumes a huge amount of energy. Even for a skilled high-level mage, continuous use can easily lead to mana depletion or even mental backlash."

"And its maximum safe distance..." he gestured with his fingertips, "is usually around two hundred meters, and it becomes extremely unstable beyond that."

Louis listened, his expression gradually becoming complicated.

He nodded calmly: "So... what exactly was the beacon spell you just used for?"

“It’s…” Lyhill pointed to the slowly flickering blue light in the sky, “…telling my companions far away where I am. Once the signal stabilizes, they’ll find a way to come and pick me up, but not in the kind of way where they suddenly appear out of the sky.”

"Then how did they get here?"

"horse riding……"

“Oh…” Louis showed a hint of disappointment.

This world is ultimately a low-magic world; there are no invincible mages who can split mountains with a single palm strike, teleport thousands of miles, or rewind time.

Perhaps there are some, but they are definitely a very small minority.

Most mages... are just fragile aura knights who can attack from a distance and have a few tricks up their sleeves.

Even a ranged, fragile mage would probably not have a chance to finish casting a spell against a knight with maxed-out defense.

However, it wasn't entirely disappointing.

He knew he would continue learning.

Even the "fancy crispy skin" is one of the sharpest and most unpredictable weapons. If used well, it can still determine the course of the battlefield.

Louise simply needs to remove those illusory filters and grasp it in a real way.

Moreover, he is now an elite knight, which can be considered a low-end version of Gandalf from another world.

Louis imagined himself charging forward with his sword, using his fighting spirit, while simultaneously bombarding the enemy with fireballs.

Yeah, he's kind of handsome.

…………

Sure enough, a few days after the signal was sent, three mages wearing silver masks arrived at Crimson Tide Territory on horseback, covered in dust from their journey.

They were completely wrapped in heavy cloaks, their breath was restrained and their words were taciturn, yet they possessed a mysterious aura that made people afraid to approach them.

The knight in charge of welcoming them felt a pang of anxiety and immediately hurried to inform Louis.

“Let them into the meeting room,” Louis nodded.

The meeting room door was gently closed, and the surroundings were quiet, with only the soft glow of candlelight.

Seeing Lysir's weakened state, the three silver-masked mages exchanged glances and almost simultaneously removed their masks, revealing anxious faces hidden beneath their silver veils.

“Lehir,” a slightly older mage with a steady voice spoke first, “you’ve finally appeared. We couldn’t get in touch with you all this time, and what about Mordi and Flavia… where are they?”

Lyhill sat quietly in a wheelchair to the side, draped in a thin blanket, looking even thinner than before.

He gazed at the three familiar faces, a flicker of emotion crossing his eyes—a mixture of joy at a long-awaited reunion and profound, suppressed sorrow. Seeing his silence, the three exchanged uneasy glances, their unease growing ever more pronounced.

“They…something happened to them,” Lyshill finally spoke, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

As Leisher slowly recounted the nightmarish battle in the jungle, the meeting hall seemed to gradually quiet down, even the sound of breathing was gradually sucked away, leaving only the faint crackling of the charcoal fire in the brazier.

Insects, corrosive insect sap, self-destruction, parasitism, cannibalism.

One cold, bloody word after another, like thorns with poisonous barbs, were slowly spat out from Lyshill's lips, piercing the nerves of the other three.

The air seemed to freeze, and every detail made their eyes tremble.

When he described how an insectoid creature approached Flavia and self-destructed, its insecticidal fluid corroding her face and ears, and the insectoid body invading her. In just a few breaths, her pupils turned purple, and she then used magic to kill Mordi.

The young mage in the corner suddenly stood up, his fists clenched.

"What did you say...?!" His voice trembled, his face showing astonishment, shock, and incredulous anger. "You mean... Flavia, she was parasitized? She's dead?"

Leisher nodded, a hint of pain and self-reproach in his eyes: "I failed to protect her... If I had been more decisive, if I hadn't hesitated, perhaps..."

"Shut up!" the young mage growled, his eyes reddening as he glared at him through gritted teeth, as if trying to force a better ending out of him.

But a few seconds later he suddenly lowered his head, his shoulders trembling: "No, I'm sorry, it was me... I shouldn't have yelled at you..."

“It’s alright.” Leisier shook her head slightly, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You have the right to blame me, and I’ve been blaming myself too. Since that day… I’ve thought every day about what it would be like if I were stronger, if my magic were just half a second faster…”

He closed his eyes, his fingertips trembling involuntarily: "But there's nothing I can do... nothing I can save."

For a moment, the air seemed to freeze.

The lamplight cast a soft shadow, enveloping them.

After a long silence, the eldest mage finally spoke: "Lehir, don't bear the burden alone. You are also one of us. We will remember this hatred and this pain together and repay those insects and those behind them."

“That’s right,” another female mage said softly, tears welling in her eyes, “It’s already a good thing that you survived.”

Leisher paused for a moment, his throat tightening slightly.

He suddenly realized that he was not alone in fighting his nightmares.

Silence filled the air once again, but this time it was not a silence of despair.

The elderly silver-masked mage slowly rose to his feet, his gaze shifting from Lyshill's wheelchair to the closed door. He said in a low voice, "We must report this immediately. The swarm is no ordinary monster."

It possesses advanced intelligence, can control corpses, and even conceal its tracks; this is no longer a simple 'missing mission.'

“Yes,” the female mage nodded, her expression grave. “Lehir, you’ve done enough to hold on this long. Leave the rest to us.”

The elder mage took out a silver feather-patterned emblem from his cloak, and with a gentle shake, a deep, resonant sound filled the air.

Outside the window, the night was as dark as ink, and a magical beast with black feathers all over its body and eyes that shone with an emerald glow rushed in.

That was the "Night Whisperer".

The black crows used by the Mage Forest to deliver secret messages are said to be able to travel through blizzards and storms to reach the Mage's Holy Tower thousands of miles away.

“We’re sending the initial report of the swarm using Night Whisperers,” he said, attaching the written secret message to the leg of a black raven. “But that’s far from enough. The archmages can’t mobilize resources based on just a few words; they’ll demand evidence and even personally dispatch observation teams.”

“You mean…” Leahy raised his head, his eyes filled with hesitation.

The female mage gently patted his shoulder, a tender smile on her face: "You must come back with us, Lysir. Your condition cannot be repaired here."

"Injuries to the foundation of magical power cannot be healed with a few potions; we must return to headquarters and have a Grand Mage-level healer treat us personally."

“But I…” Lyshill wanted to say that he still had clues to share, but before he could finish speaking, the young mage interrupted him.

“You want to stay and help? You can’t even walk properly.” He was still a bit aggressive, but he was no longer as out of control as before. “Your most important task now is to live, bring back everything you know, and let the people above hear it.”

Leisher paused, his gaze falling on his hands.

His hands were still trembling, and his magical pathways, like charred strings, faintly hummed with pain.

He finally lowered his head and nodded gently.

"Okay, I'll go back with you."

"Then it's settled." The elder mage waved his hand, and the Night Whisperer took flight, scattering snowflakes with each flap, which were blocked outside the window by a magical barrier.

Before leaving, the silver-masked mage stopped at the door and bowed deeply to Louis, who was waiting in the corridor.

"Thank you so much for taking me in and saving me. Otherwise, I'm afraid I would have..." The older man's voice was slightly hoarse, but his words were filled with sincere gratitude.

"But right now we really don't have anything to offer in return, but we will definitely bring a gift next time we visit you."

Louis stood beneath the colonnade, his posture upright, his expression still that of someone whose gaze was impossible to fathom.

He simply nodded slightly: "Mm."

The short syllable, neither too warm nor too cold, exudes an air of nobility and aloofness.

But only Louis knew that he wasn't aloof; he was just pretending.

After all, "Don't reveal that I taught you magic, remember that."

These were the words that Rayhill solemnly instructed the Silver Masked Mage before he arrived.

"Once I return to the Mage Forest, I will formally submit your apprenticeship application and report your talent test results. Only then will you be able to legally use magic openly, understand?"

Otherwise, I'd be hung up and interrogated for a whole day.

Louis agreed.

Therefore, he could only maintain his usual composure and aloofness, like an ordinary nobleman who had no interest in magic but was simply enthusiastic.

Lyshill is now able to walk on his own. Although he still looks thin and pale, he is no longer the same as before, with festering wounds and a confused state of mind.

He wore a gray-blue cloak, his steps were slow, yet he carried a stubbornness that refused to be helped.

Just before getting into the car, he glanced back at Louis, forced a smile, and then raised his hand to wave at him.

Louis did not respond, but simply nodded slightly.

In his heart, he sighed, "Sigh... the three spell classes every day are gone. From now on, I'll have to figure it out on my own."

He tapped the magic notebook at his waist with his fingers. It was a magic notebook that Leisir had specially left behind before he left so that Leisir could use it for self-study. The dense annotations showed that a lot of thought had been put into it.

"But it's alright... the basic framework has been set up. The rest can be figured out on our own."

Louis glanced back at the clear sky in the distance, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

(End of this chapter)