The robed wizard fixed his eyes on Garrett, as if trying to discern something about him.

I don’t recall hearing anything about a new Istari arriving, though…

But if he truly considered it, something about this man felt… familiar.

“I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey. That’s what all who know me call me.”

The young human had successfully captured his attention.

Although somewhat surprised, he was, after all, one of the Istari, and being a wizard meant he had lived for a very long time.

After wandering Middle-earth for so many centuries, what hadn’t he witnessed?

A being with mystical abilities wasn’t particularly shocking, though this one did seem rather extraordinary.

“Garrett, an adventurer.”

“An adventurer? You appear more like a master builder, or perhaps a lord of some realm.”

“Thanks. I wouldn’t call myself a lord, but I do practice architecture when I feel like it.”

As he spoke, Garrett’s gaze gradually drifted upward to Gandalf’s status indicator.

[30/30]

This old wizard certainly possessed robust vitality.

Although it displayed that Gandalf had 30 health points, he suspected that indicator might be somehow restricted or incomplete.

“Leaving a guest standing at the entrance isn’t very polite. Why don’t you come in and look around?”

“Oh, certainly, I would be delighted to,” Gandalf nodded, stepping through the iron gate with Garrett.

His eyes darted about, inspecting the structures within the walls.

Penned livestock, a large horse pasture with troughs, ripening crops, it all appeared quite ordinary. It was autumn, after all, the season of harvest. And honestly, the crops looked exceptional, heavy with fruit.

He nodded approvingly and continued surveying the area.

Was that… a smith’s forge?

The design of that anvil appeared oddly familiar, where had he seen such craftsmanship before?

Wait, what was that over there?

His eyes landed on an enchanting table, surrounded by mysterious runes flowing toward it from nearby bookshelves. This strange and novel apparatus piqued his curiosity enormously.

“I can sense some sort of magic coming from it.”

Whirr.

Detecting Gandalf’s presence, the tome on the enchanting table opened of its own accord, turning its pages toward him, which startled the wizard slightly.

“Indeed, it’s what I use to imbue equipment with magical properties. Speaking of which, your staff doesn’t seem too sturdy, want me to enchant it for you?”

“Enchant it? You mean enhance it with magical power? If such a thing is possible, I would be most interested to try.”

For some inexplicable reason, Gandalf felt a faint and mysterious sense of kinship with the young man before him. It reminded him of a time long, long ago, before he came to Middle-earth, perhaps even before that… Almost without conscious thought, he handed his staff to Garrett, his eyes studying him intently, as if attempting to puzzle something out.

Clearly, Garrett’s reputation was undergoing another examination.

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully. He confirmed this young man was no enemy of the Free Peoples. In fact, he was a friend to Elves and Rangers, and seemed to maintain good relations with Dwarves as well. Perhaps he should make inquiries in nearby settlements after this visit. A structure of this magnitude appearing from nothing couldn’t have gone unnoticed, there were likely rumors or tales circulating among the local folk.

While Gandalf was deep in contemplation, Garrett wasn’t acting carelessly either.

[Solid Wood Staff: Attack Power +5]

Who would have thought a simple wooden staff would have the same attack power as a stone sword? Bonk someone with this and they’d certainly be stunned.

Before the enchanting table, he stared at the smooth, polished staff in his hand, lost in thought for a considerable while.

“What troubles you?” Gandalf, standing beside him, finally couldn’t restrain himself and inquired.

“It’s nothing. Just that this staff feels quite… unique.”

Gandalf nodded. “It has been my companion for a very long time.”

Garrett fell silent.

Is that what I care about?

What I care about is, why hasn’t a new unlock notification appeared yet?!

Is this thing even really a magic staff or not?

Seeing that nothing was happening after waiting so long, he had no choice but to proceed regardless. He sighed, withdrew some lapis lazuli, and placed the staff upon the enchanting table.

The staff rose into the air, and the lapis lazuli in his hand dissolved into radiant light, merging with the staff.

Unbreaking III, Sharpness IV.

Not poor results.

He casually retrieved a Sharpness V enchanted book from a nearby chest and upgraded the staff directly to maximum sharpness.

Now the staff possessed a total attack power of 8 points, quite formidable.

He returned it to Gandalf.

The moment Gandalf grasped the staff, which now shimmered with a faint, almost imperceptible luminescence, he immediately sensed the transformation. He gave it several experimental swings, and the aura was fierce and potent.

“I can feel the difference. It’s harder, sharper, could even serve as a proper weapon in need.”

He was thoroughly pleased.

“My gratitude, young… ah, Garrett. This will make my journeys considerably safer.”

He paused mid-sentence, uncertain how to address Garrett, his accumulated titles were, frankly, somewhat overwhelming. In the end, he abandoned formality and simply used his name.

“As long as it’s helpful to you.”

Garrett’s territory, while extensive, didn’t actually contain numerous developed structures. Much of the area remained vacant, not yet planned or constructed.

A complete tour didn’t require very long.

As they walked, whenever they passed something magical or unusual, Gandalf would recall a similar thing from his vast experience, sharing tales from his travels and offering commentary on Garrett’s creations.

At some point, it felt as though Gandalf was the one providing Garrett with the tour.

Potion-brewing area.

“Potions? I know someone dwelling in the Old Forest who also brews strange concoctions with curious effects. But he typically uses them to heal wounded creatures of the wild.”

Nether wart farm.

“Ah, I believe I’ve encountered this variety of sand before, in the Dead Marshes to the east. That entire region is filled with the bones of the fallen from ages past. Malice gathers like mist, and phantoms of the dead are everywhere. Travelers who aren’t cautious become lured by the spectres, sink into the marsh, and drown, joining their number.”

No, don’t worry, Garrett thought silently. This soul sand doesn’t drag you down. Place it in water, and it actually makes you rise.

“Forgive my bluntness,” Gandalf said, indicating the nether wart, “but this appears quite sinister. You’re using ingredients cultivated from the essence of the dead to create potions?”

That seemed rather too much like… necromancy.

He shook his head repeatedly. Still, though his words sounded disapproving, he didn’t move to stop Garrett. He simply observed once and continued onward. After all, it merely appeared ominous. It hadn’t demonstrated any actual malevolent effects.

Gandalf was always like that, calm and composed.

But even so, when he followed Garrett to the Nether portal, his eyes widened, and he suddenly froze in place, unable to advance another step.

“This…”

He instinctively reached for his pipe.

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