Chapter 374 The Silver-Haired Mage

Past that night, a few more weeks followed, with them excitedly exchanging letters with one another, making plans for what they'd do when they met. It almost felt to him like he was planning a date, though he placed that thought at the back of his head.

For the others around the household, it was clear as day that he was excited for his plans as he chipperly did chores, even helping both his father and mother handle their own in addition to his usual ones.

At last, finally, it was that day–Celly arrived from the land of Vasmoria.

It was a bright morning; the clouds parted over Yullim as the azure skies persisted above with the lush fields of green grass welcoming in the figure who arrived over a hill, arriving from a ride on a carriage before departing from it.

Emilio was waiting outside, sitting on the broken, stone fence on the outskirts of the Dragonheart residence before finally noticing the familiar figure that came into view: that prominent, pointy mage hat was unmistakable.

'Is that her?' He thought.

That head of silver hair with gentle eyes and a smile just as soft met him; in truth, Celly's appearance seemed exactly the same as he remembered–surprisingly the same, in fact. It seemed as though the woman, who still looked hardly sixteen, hadn't aged a day.

"Celly!" He called out, waving.

A brightened smile met him as the mage arrived, holding her staff in tow, "Emilio...Hold on, that is you, isn't it?"

The former teacher of his stood before him, though having to look up in order to meet eye-to-eye with him, hardly making it up to his chest in height.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" He smiled.

Celly squinted for a moment before smiling, adjusting her hat, "You've really grown, haven't you?...That bright child I remember is now a grown man. A world-class adventurer too, at that."

Though he wanted to talk about how Celly had grown, truthfully, she really hadn't; he briefly looked over her–though her outfit had changed in some ways, now wearing a white-and-black uniform with a silver cloak and a black skirt, seeming to be a uniform of her academy, she was exactly the same as she was years ago.

"You, err, haven't aged at all, have you?" He asked hesitantly.

For the first time, he saw a hint of anger on the woman's face as she glared at him before controlling herself, letting out a small breath as she pushed her hair behind her ear.

'She almost blasted me with magic, didn't she? I feel like I pressed a button that shouldn't have been pressed!' He thought.

"I am a half-elf, remember? We age differently from humans," she explained, "Right now...I'm nearing forty."

"That old?!"

"Right? I missed it the whole time I was gone," he responded.

Celly looked at him, "About that...the journey you went on, you told me about it over letters, but it's just..."

"Hard to believe? Yeah, I get that," he said with a smile, leaning back against a tree stump as he took another bite of his sandwich, "It was a lot more eventful than anybody could have predicted."

"It's not that I don't believe it, it's just a lot to imagine," Celly told him before smiling, "I'm glad you made it, though."

"Yeah, me too," he nodded with a smile of his own.

As he sat there, he saw the silver-haired woman who was once his teacher, in a different light. Perhaps it was the time spent away from her, or the maturity that came with his hardships, or perhaps it was the age he found himself at.

The truth of the matter was, even if he did live a sizable amount of time as "Ethan Bellrose", it didn't change the fact that the development and maturity of his brain followed the same rules as others–leading to a new state of mind he found himself in as an adult.

"So...an archmage, huh? That's a pretty big deal, right?" Emilio said, swallowing a gulp of his sandwich.

Celly was sitting with her legs to the side, periodically adjusting her skirt as she seemed to remember how Emilio once was, "I always thought it was, but..."

"But?"

"Being one myself, it almost feels like I don't belong. I've always looked up to archmages–I come from a family of them, you see," Celly explained, "There was a lot of pressure from my parents to become one. Archmages have a lot of influence in the world of magic. There are a lot of job opportunities that come with it, but there's also the matter of keeping up appearances..."

"What do you mean by that?" He asked.

"Well, like I said, there have been many archmages in my family. If I failed to become one, I'd be shunned–even though I did manage to make it, I can't help but feel like I'm still not worthy," Celly said.

The silver-haired woman of youthful appearance tucked her knees close to her chest, resting her chin on her legs. Sitting alongside the beautiful bed of flowers made the silken, silver hair of the half elf almost seem to shine as her pale, flawless skin glistened beneath the morning sun.

"I get it. It's still processing for me that I'm a world-class adventurer. I mean, I've met plenty of crazy strong adventurers that make me feel like I'm still leagues behind. I think it's normal to feel that way when you enter a new threshold," he said to reassure her.

"But you're truthfully amazing, Emilio. I can safely say that–even back when I mentored you, you surprised me with just how talented you were. I can't imagine what sort of mage–no, what kind of adventurer you are now," Celly said.

Such compliments bestowed upon him from the lips of a woman he had certain feelings bubbling up over caused him to bashfully chuckle as he leaned back, crossing his arms as he relaxed amidst the picnic.

"I don't know about all of that. I'm only as strong as my experiences have made me–but well, my experiences have been...certainly something," he said, realizing just what sort of trials he did overcome.

"Learning to take a compliment is a nice skill to have," Celly playfully told him.

"Yeah, yeah, all I've really done this past year is just take simple jobs with my father and Everett," Emilio said, "That's why I'm saying I get how you feel–I don't think I've really earned my britches as a 'world-class adventurer' yet."

A small breeze came through, dragging with it the refreshing scent of the naturally-growing flowers and brushing the red-and-white mat they sat on.