Mysteries: Arcana Wars

"What was left behind along with the confusion and helplessness was a pile of debris."

Fors held a small piece of energy bar in his mouth, chewed it carefully, and then swallowed it.

“My teacher returned to the kingdom of the god of steam and machinery, which meant that I lost my last layer of protection in the human world. From the age of seventeen, I had to try every possible effort to support myself and complete my studies.

“It was then that I suddenly realized that my teacher left too hastily. He was a vast library, and I only had time to learn how to write poetry.

"In order to make a living, I began to submit my manuscripts through the connections and channels left by my teacher to earn royalties. My teacher was not a famous or talented poet, but he was a mature writer. Even so, the clumsy writing of a child like me still could not reach professional standards. Those editors and companies did not see the qualified commercial value in my manuscripts. Even if they accepted a few manuscripts out of the friendship with my teacher, it would only help me solve temporary life difficulties, not a long-term solution.

"So, under the recommendation of enthusiastic editors, I began to submit my works to channels with lower standards, but my editors would not consider whether the author is a child or whether the level is good enough for a child. They would only focus on the poems themselves and judge whether each manuscript meets the acceptance standards.

"In order to make a living, I started to submit a lot of works to various places. At the beginning, most of these were information provided to me by my teacher's editors, poetry magazines, song lyrics, copywriting... I began to earn a stable income from these small and insignificant places. Of course, the inferior submissions mean inferior royalties. In order to make a living, in addition to traditional poetry, I also submitted various commercial copywriting. At the same time, I also submitted works to some editors and companies with higher levels and higher royalties, but most of them were unsuccessful.

"It's like a vicious circle. I need money, so I have to find a way to make money that I am best at, and what I am best at is writing poetry. So I write poetry to make money and live, but the more poetry I write, the better I am at it, and the less time I have to think about other things. It's like a magic forest, with only one tree growing wildly, and the other trees can only look up quietly from below because the tree blocks most of their sunlight.

“So I chose the literature department in college, just because I have been writing poetry. During this period, I also did not give up providing articles to various editors and companies to earn living expenses and tuition fees.

"But when I really graduated, I looked at my classmates who were working in various companies, and I realized...

“I can’t do anything else except writing poetry.

"My roommates were not from Backlund. After they finished their studies, they left and started new lives in various places in Loen. But I stayed in Backlund and decided to continue writing poetry, because I couldn't think of anything else I could do besides writing poetry. So naturally, after graduation, I became a full-time writer. I mainly contributed to some poetry editors or lyrics editors, and continued to take on some small commercial copywriting.

"I always write about a lot of things in my poems, but in fact I have never really seen them. I will write about the winter snow in Winter County, the beaches of Bayam, the oil bean fields of Feynapotter, the palace of Intis... I am constructing some beautiful environments, but I have only seen them on the Internet. Whether it is the coldness of the winter snow or the wetness of the beach, I have never touched them. Whether it is poetry or other commercial copywriting, these are just illusions I have constructed for people in order to get money in return, and perhaps for myself, as if I am deceiving myself that these things really exist. But I know very well that I have never left Backlund.

“I never left Backlund, just like I never left poetry.

"Are my poems really good? The answer is of course no. I just mechanically write one article after another for money. My royalties do increase with my experience, but that's it. They are not much higher. To be honest, even though many writers think that Tile Reading Newspaper is a pile of mud and garbage, it is the best media I have ever published my works in. It at least has a considerable circulation. As for those old-fashioned poetry magazines where traditional writers gather, I dare not even think about it. In the end, I still have to make a small amount of royalties to support my life without saving any money.

"I began to feel that my life was not right. I felt that I had been going in circles, unable to move forward, and not daring to take a step back. I was just thinking about the beautiful expectations I had built for others. I wanted to break this damn cycle, but what else could I do besides poetry?"

Having said that, Fors fell silent again.

"Have you never been to the city next to Backlund after graduation?"

the adventurer suddenly asked.

Fors was stunned for a moment.

“No…no…

"When the teacher was still here, he was busy with work and didn't have much time to take me out to play. At most, we took a walk around Backlund. Later, I was busy with work and study, and didn't have much time to go out. After graduation, I couldn't live in the cheap student apartment anymore. I had to rent a house on my own. The living expenses were huge, and I needed more work to make up for it. At the same time, after deducting the rent and living expenses every month, I didn't have much left, and I couldn't save money to really see the winter snow in Winter County or the beach in Bayam..."

"Have you ever considered Henry's suggestion?" The adventurer shook the newspaper. "How about trying to write a novel?"

"Novel? You mean The Legend of the Blacksmith? If I imitate its writing style and write an article called The Legend of the Gardener in the Tile Reading Newspaper..." Fors sighed, "No, I can't write it well. I've never written any novels before..."

“Your poems are very good at creating a sense of atmosphere, and you will inadvertently complete some interesting narratives. In particular, there are several dedicated narrative poems. Putting aside the techniques, the stories they tell are very interesting in themselves. These characteristics are essential for a good novelist.”

"But I...wait, how do you know the poems I wrote?" Fors asked in surprise.

"I just said that I also read the Tile Reading Newspaper." The adventurer shook the newspaper in his hand again.

In fact, Klein, a programmer in the Sixth Epoch, often read the electronic version of "Tile Reading Newspaper". Although he felt that these brainless novels were sometimes even mentally retarded, these refreshing novels were large in quantity and could be read quickly without thinking, which was a good way for him to relieve stress. As for the poetry section that flashed by, he did not pay too much attention to it, just glanced at it occasionally. Before he came into contact with Fors, he had made up some of Fors's masterpieces on the Internet.

This made Fors feel a little ashamed, as if her parents had discovered the inappropriate literature she had anonymously published online. She couldn't help but rub her face.

"No... I really don't know how to write a novel... Forget it, I can't do it..."

"What about Backlund? You actually had a lot of opportunities, but you missed them all."

The adventurer returned to the subject again.

"Take the train west for two hours, and you can escape Backlund for an afternoon.

"Or, I don't mind tying you up and taking you to Wintershire or Bayam."

Hearing these dangerous remarks, Fors was so shocked that he waved his hands repeatedly.

"No, no, no, Mr. Hermann! I appreciate your kindness. But what if I'm away for so long and miss the information the client sends me? Some companies like to send me urgent orders, which require a lot of money. If I don't have time to reply, the job will be snatched away by others!"

Fors smiled as he spoke.

"Mr. Hermann, I actually envy your life. You look like the legendary Mr. Sparrow from the Fifth Epoch, wandering around the southern and northern continents, unfettered and free, with every day fresh and new."

"My life is dangerous and chaotic. There is nothing to envy," the adventurer replied. "You should have experienced this in the past few weeks."

"...Indeed, I actually understand that the lives of Fifth Epoch adventurers in real history were actually bloody and turbulent." Fors sighed, "What I envy and look forward to is just a beautiful image in my heart, just like the lies I made up in my poems for those who can never leave Backlund."

"But now you do have a chance to live a different way, don't you?"

As he spoke, the adventurer stood up, put on his top hat, and extended his hand to Fors.

"Welcome to the dungeon."