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Regardless of gender or race, what people remembered most vividly was often their first time.
It had been many and many years ago since Ambrose had crossed into this world. He had had a number of mentors: those who taught him magic, lockpicking, how to do business, how to indulge in life… Yet all of those mentors were long gone.
Immortality remained an unattainable dream for most mortals. Becoming a spellcaster was perhaps a one-in-a-thousand chance, and becoming a legend perhaps one-in-a-million. And even that was merely the threshold of immortality. Countless legends had died as a result of accidents rather than old age.
The blind, one-armed old man standing before him was the very first mentor Ambrose had met after crossing into this world.
Back then, Ambrose had known nothing of the world. Despite being a transmigrator, he did not even have a cheat or some sort of system to rely on. Three days after arriving, he had collapsed from hunger.
He had woken up to discover that this blind, one-armed old man had taken him in.
What followed was an unremarkable eighteen-year apprenticeship.
The old man wasn't particularly talkative. He had lost both his eyes and an arm in an alchemical accident. Passing...
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