Grievous was simply seeing what possibilities were in front of him and which were best for his overall benefit. Both things were very possible, but simply in his current weak state, going to the capital would be harmful, and if he waited, he might regret it, when the time for regret had already gone.
The old man let out a long sigh and thought, 'The fear of the dream and the warning have affected my thought process. It is simply the prey's instinctive fear of its approaching predator. And without a doubt, as I am currently, I am not even a satiated prey.'
He calmly extended his hand in front of him and quietly opened it as he quickly created a simple spell in his Mind Palace, and quietly on his palm a simple statue appeared. This statue was made of pure Shen, in a dark black colour, and had a simple shape depicting Edmund. He thought, 'It's easy with my current rank in magical mathematics.'
The tiny figure was rough, almost crude in its design, but to Grievous, it was perfect. It pulsed softly in his palm like a heartbeat, a faint shimmer.
Edmund's likeness was etched with minimal lines, but each detail was deliberate, at least enough to hold a fragment of the person's essence.
Grievous moved the statue in his hand slightly as he hummed slowly. Then he placed it on the edge of the balcony and said, "I need to collect enough pieces. Edmund alone is not enough to do everything I need outside. I think I must wander the world by myself. But now this is simply dangerous, at least outside of a few of the weaker noble estates where there are only people far below the third rank, and even those of that rank are very few."
He gazed out over the sprawling estate below, bathed in the fading gold of the rising sun. The distant hum of life rose up to meet him, the clatter of carts, the murmur of voices. It was a living, breathing organism, indifferent to his presence.
"I'm going to leave this up until I at least get to the early second rank to see if this ability will develop or if it depends on something else."
He paused for a few moments and then continued calmly to himself, "If its development does not depend on rank as a magician, then I must seriously look for ways to develop it. After all, it is the strongest thing I have up my sleeve."
The notion settled heavily in his mind. This ability, was unlike any he had encountered before. It might be the key to bridging the gap between his current vulnerability and the towering threats he would soon face.
Grievous calmly picked up the simple statue, and on the palm of his hand, it slowly melted and turned back into spiritual energy in the air. The dark shimmer dissolved like smoke caught in a gentle breeze, disappearing silently.
He turned and entered the room, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath his steps. The chamber was sparse but orderly, an old desk with scattered papers, a single window casting long shadows, and shelves lined with faded tomes.
Sitting in his chair in front of the table, he pulled out one of the simple papers and a pen. The pen felt heavy between his fingers, its nib catching slightly on the coarse surface of the parchment.
Slowly and in the language of his world he wrote:
Evolve your rank and Edmund's.
Learn all possible spells.
Find everything about Rahul's Swords.
Make sure you develop your basic ability.
Collect useful pieces.
Each phrase carried weight, a silent command to himself.
Grievous simply wrote in front of him what he should do now and slowly stared at the paper and the liquid ink that was slowly beginning to dry and hummed. He saw that the order in which he wrote things was the most appropriate for him to do things now.
He let out a slight sigh as he began to cut the paper, then quietly collected the scraps and then threw them into the trash can next to him.
He said mockingly, "It's simply trivial. I don't know why I still do those things that I used to do even though I don't need them. Maybe it's a hidden longing for my world."
His voice was soft but carried a sliver of irony, as if mocking the very habits that clung to him like old skin. The world he left behind was simpler, predictable—a place where rules were clear and dangers fewer.
"No, I don't think so. Why would I prefer a simple world like that over something exciting like this?"
He leaned back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests, eyes drifting to the ceiling where the beams caught the fading light. The contrast between his past life and the present was stark.
Of course, as someone who has experienced life in both worlds, he undoubtedly loved the world where he will be able to live for a longer time more. Grievous' love of life was simply wondrous in a way that was both interesting and compassionate at the same time.
There was a quiet reverence in him, an appreciation for the fragile thread that tethered him to existence. Despite the hardships, despite the unknown dangers, he had a fierce determination to cling to life's moments.
He let out a long sigh and rested his body on the chair and relaxed completely as he thought, 'I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Let us study the memories of that old mage in-depth.'
His mind drifted to the memories locked within the ancient magi he had found days ago, the mage whose knowledge might hold the key to his survival.
Grievous closed his eyes briefly, letting the silence fill the room. The night outside deepened, stars flickering like distant beacons.
'I must steel myself,' he thought. 'The path ahead is uncertain, but I will not easily go down.'
The old mage's memories were a labyrinth, complex and layered. Each fragment revealed new insights, but also new questions.
As he delved deeper, the room seemed to fade away, replaced by visions of rituals, battles fought long ago, and the quiet desperation of a woman seeking power to protect what she held dear.
Grievous felt a stirring inside him—a mixture of awe and urgency. The knowledge was vast, but incomplete. He would have to piece it together.
Time slipped past unnoticed. The world outside ceased to matter.
In these moments, Grievous was not an old man weakened by circumstance. He was a seeker, a learner, a force gathering strength in the shadows.
He wondered, 'How many more pieces must I collect before I am powerful enough?'
The thought was both daunting and motivating.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of rain and distant fireplaces.
Inside, the flicker of candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls.