Chapter Thirteen: The Ring Sorcerer and the Fate Ring

About half a year ago, the late detective Sparrow Hamilton took on a rather troublesome case. Baron Huntington, a resident of Tobesk City, hired the detective to find a missing maid. The maid had served the baron’s household for many years and had resigned voluntarily a few days prior.

The baron sent his butler with gifts to invite the maid back, only to discover she had vanished. Though the baron held a certain social standing, he was not family to the maid, and apparently did not trust the police much, which is why he commissioned several detectives to investigate.

Sparrow Hamilton was not exactly a renowned detective; his usual cases involved trivial matters like uncovering extramarital affairs. This time, a noble’s request came through an introduction from an old client.

Hamilton took the matter seriously; even though the baron was just an ordinary citizen from the city’s perspective, he was someone the average person could never reach. He conducted a thorough investigation, spending a month in the spring following various clues until he found an abandoned sanatorium by the Orsay River and concluded it was at the heart of the missing persons case.

“This sanatorium was abandoned about thirty years ago. Back then, I was just a child, but I heard my family mention it,” explained Bill Schneider, a local, pointing toward the increasingly clear structure not far off. Though a thin mist still hung on the city’s outskirts, the clock tower beside the main building and the spires topped with crosses were already visible.

“At that time, the royal family instructed Tobesk City Hall to undertake urban re-planning to accommodate the influx of people and the growth of steam industry. The policy was to move hospitals and basic infrastructure inward, while factories were relocated outward. This place was originally a noble’s sanatorium—if you understand what I mean, it was exclusively for people we ordinary folks dare not imagine. In response, the sanatorium was completely moved out of Tobesk City to a nearby town, just a half-hour train ride away, which was actually more convenient.”

“So the sanatorium was abandoned. Not even vagrants would stay here. This area is desolate, and if someone died here, no one would know.”

The surroundings were vast fields and wastelands; the nearest rural village was an hour’s walk away. Nearby, however, was an estate and horse farm belonging to an earl. During racing season, people would use this very path as a track, but now it was nearly deserted.

Though the industrial era was advancing rapidly, its traces were only evident in big cities. Far from urban areas, everything seemed to regress to earlier times—a point Shade understood well.

The two soon arrived near the abandoned sanatorium. The doctor never mentioned the name; perhaps it was unimportant.

From the outside, the plaster had completely peeled away, and all windows and doors were missing. Surprisingly, the sanatorium’s perimeter wall still stood, but the courtyard inside was overgrown, indistinguishable from the surrounding wasteland, with no trace of past gardens.

Tall buildings and spires rose in the wilderness, with only the decorative gate hinting faintly at the former grandeur.

“Follow closely behind me; we’ll talk as we walk,” the doctor said, kicking open two rusted gates that clattered to the ground, startling birds from nearby trees.

Even at the city’s edge, the mist had only partially lifted. The gloomy sky threatened rain, and Shade regretted not bringing an umbrella.

Stepping into the courtyard, their boots pressed through the wild grass.

“An ‘Ring Sorcerer’ refers to one who wields a ‘Wheel of Fate,’” the doctor explained, glancing around as he led Shade toward the main entrance.

“Wheel of Fate?”

“Time, years, destiny, era, civilization, world—all forge this wheel, which symbolizes ourselves. Pay close attention—I’m about to show you the full Wheel of Fate, not just a fragment. Watch carefully—”

Walking through the grass, the doctor raised both arms slightly, palms open and facing upward as if holding something aloft at shoulder level.

Everything behind him grew misty, as if enveloped in white fog, yet he remained unchanged, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Then, in the deserted courtyard, Shade suddenly heard the sound and echo of a train whistle.

“What?”

He hastily scanned the waist-high grass around him, feeling an unusual warmth on his skin.

Turning, he saw that what appeared behind the doctor was not fog but steam—scalding steam that sent chills down his spine. This steam seemed to blur distance and space, rendering everything behind the doctor indistinct.

Within the steam, a massive black silhouette approached, as if the vapor contained infinite dimensions of time and space.

The whistle roared, steam exploded, and the shadow drew closer. The tremendous speed stirred the wind, whipping the doctor’s coat, the overgrown grass, and Shade’s own cloak, forcing him to squint.

More troubling was the rising sense of danger within him.

“What exactly is in that steam?”

As it neared behind the doctor, the depths of the steam revealed a colossal iron hammer, silver-gray and as tall as the entire building. A thunderous strike landed upon the doctor.

The impact caused Shade’s ears to ring and his vision to blur; nausea overwhelmed him, compelling him to clutch his chest. The ground trembled, fierce winds howled, and lightning flashed—this series of illusions made the hammer strike feel as if it cleaved the heavens and earth or pounded Shade’s very soul.

Yet only the doctor was struck. Unmoved, the doctor stood firm, but Shade insisted he saw Dr. Schneider flattened like a copper disc.

“Copper?”

He was increasingly unsure of his own perceptions.

Indeed, a copper disc appeared behind the doctor, hammered out by the giant hammer—a huge spinning brass ring.

As the steam dispersed, the brass ring, with a pentagonal cross-section, slowly rotated behind the doctor. Strange lights danced along with more than twenty spiritual runes inscribed on the ring.

The glow reflected on Shade’s face. The voice of a woman echoed in his mind, accompanied by a soft laugh. His eyes mirrored the magnificent, mystical, and powerful circle.

“This is the Wheel of Fate. Ring Sorcerers only fully summon it in intense battle. Otherwise, they reveal only a part or none at all... Any questions?”

The doctor paused in the courtyard’s tall grass, facing a dumbfounded Shade, who could still feel the residual heat of the steam and the blazing temperature of the massive brass ring.

The Wheel of Fate was no illusion—it was tangible.

“Why steam? Why brass?” Shade asked, his urgency betraying him.

The middle-aged doctor chuckled.

“Young man, a person’s success depends not only on personal effort but also on the course of history.

“As I said, the Wheel of Fate represents oneself and the world. This era is one of steam and machinery, so the wheel emerges from steam, forged by a giant hammer, glowing brass in color. If this were the age of rainbows, the wheel might be rainbow-colored; if the era of the deep sea, then it would be water. Do you understand?”

Shade nodded faintly, his heart pounding from witnessing the startling scene.

“I understand.”

He barely dared blink, wanting to imprint the ring’s full image in his mind. But the doctor waved his hand, and the ring gradually became transparent and vanished, leaving Shade with only a few runes etched in memory.

Shade could read and understand the common northern kingdom language—even without the woman’s voice guiding him—but could neither speak nor write it. Yet now, inexplicably, he grasped the meaning of those powerful spiritual runes: “Joy,” “Hound,” and “Dust” among them.

Suddenly, his head throbbed painfully as if struck from behind, forcing him to abandon the attempt to memorize the runes further.

In this world, knowledge was truly power. Thus, the doctor’s invitation to join the extraordinary organization—a kind of academy—made sense.

“But if my special trait is the ability to read and understand all scripts... is that a blessing or a curse in this perilous world?” Shade pondered his secret.

The doctor continued walking through the grass, explaining:

“My wheel has a pentagonal cross-section, meaning I am a fifth-ring Ring Sorcerer and a fifth-year adult correspondence student at the academy. The first ring’s cross-section is a flat circle with a single side inscribed with runes. The second ring is also flat but inscribed on both sides. The third ring’s cross-section is triangular; the fourth’s is quadrilateral... and so on. Understand? The higher the ring, the closer it approaches a perfect circle.”

“Yes, I understand.”

As they entered the building, Shade noted that countless others must have visited over the years. No furniture remained, and a thick layer of dust covered the floor, swirling with each step.

They did not linger on the first floor but climbed a seemingly unstable staircase to the second floor, making Shade uneasy about the building’s safety.

“Spiritual runes are the core of the Ring Sorcerer system. By inscribing runes on our Wheels of Fate, we accumulate ‘spirit’ and attune to the four elemental forces: ‘Miracle,’ ‘Desecration,’ ‘Enlightenment,’ and ‘Whisper,’ advancing progressively.”

“Spirit? Elements?” Shade asked, intrigued and eager to learn.

The doctor led him upstairs.

“In the past, spirit went by many names—magic, ether, mana, soul, light of the mind—but now it is uniformly called spirit. It is information, an element, energy, the sum of all you can comprehend in the world, and one way Ring Sorcerers influence matter with their minds. Spirit is accumulated by engaging with elements, and the safest way to do so is by reading ancient stories and knowledge—culture, customs, heroic legends, oral myths.

“Yet accessing this knowledge is dangerous; a misstep can lead to madness. So we usually study original manuscripts or reliable translations.”

Shade mentally translated ‘spirit’ as a blue bar.

“But accumulating enough spirit alone does not guarantee advancement to the next ring. The most crucial aspect for a Ring Sorcerer is the element. By engraving runes representing the four elements, one effectively raises the spirit’s limit, refines the soul, and tempers the body. These elements can be perceived in many ways...”

Shade recalled the woman’s voice in his mind mentioning that he had sensed “Whisper,” “Enlightenment,” and “Miracle”—through witnessing Sparrow’s death, walking the city streets, and contemplating the divine.

“Merely feeling and touching are insufficient; the elements must be inscribed on one’s Wheel of Fate to prove integration with them. Every upgrade requires different combinations of ‘Miracle,’ ‘Desecration,’ ‘Enlightenment,’ and ‘Whisper’ runes. I will explain this further once you decide to join the academy. For now, let me introduce the distinctions among the four elements.”

The doctor paused and smiled ahead.

“I believe the person we’re looking for is here.”