Chapter 64: Title

As the sharp, cold teeth closed in on his arm, a burst of white light erupted from that spot. An invisible force formed a protective barrier, blocking most of the bite’s power! The boy seized the opportunity to pull his hand back, but the monster did not give him that chance. It twisted its head and let out a frightening low growl. Then, with a tremendous force coming from his arm, Constantine felt a wave of dizziness. His entire body was flung lightly into the air by that force.

“Oof…!”

Constantine landed heavily on the ground in a sorry state. A scream of pain was choked in his throat, turning into a half-strangled whimper—the impact that shot straight up from his rear gave him the illusion that if he opened his mouth, some internal organ might just be vomited out! Unfortunately, his streak of bad luck was not over yet. In the next second, a bone-chilling, freezing breath mixed with a nauseating stench blasted directly onto his body! The cold sensation made his head spin, and the contained impact force pushed him flat onto the ground.

“You are already dead! Fool!” A cold, grim voice abruptly rang out around him. Immediately, the surrounding scenery—the last Goblin screaming as it fled, the white-furred giant wolf that had just breathed the icy breath, and the trees swaying in the wind… all suddenly froze. Only the ice that had just formed on the boy’s chest and abdomen dissolved with a crackling sound, falling away.

“You cheater! Weren’t you talking about a few Goblins?”

The boy’s face turned pale, clearly still suffering from the icy breath attack. However, he quickly recovered to normal. At the same time, the surrounding scenery gradually changed with faint ripples, finally dissolving into a gray, featureless emptiness.

This was Constantine’s spiritual space, a simulated projection formed within the Soul Channel between him and the Lich—a connection that had become semi-dormant due to the Lich’s failed possession attempt. But obviously, as a being who had lived for centuries, Hartier still had a good sense of conservation, understanding the concept of making use of waste. Thus, a mental training ground unfolded upon this abandoned connection. It had to be said, this idea was indeed a brilliant one. A space that could conjure lifelike illusions anytime was undoubtedly perfect for simulation training and the like.

“I have to admit, your spur-of-the-moment ideas in all sorts of areas often have astonishing practicality… But I recall, our goal was to train your abilities as a Sorcerer. If you’re only using a blade, you might as well go practice chopping wood!” Within the grayish light, the skeletal figure of Kotelo de Hartdiel, wrapped in a black robe, slowly materialized before Constantine. His voice remained as flat and emotionless as ever, though his long robe fluttered as if blown by a breeze, seemingly displaying a certain degree of anger.

“What? That was a Winter Wolf? I, me… you actually threw such a high-level monster at me… Isn’t that too difficult?” Constantine rubbed his bitten arm and rolled his eyes hard… The Lich seemed to have finally found a minor loophole in the Soul Contract lately. Although he would not disobey Constantine’s commands, he had begun launching verbal attacks, and his choice of words seemed to be growing increasingly venomous.

“Adventures are always filled with unpredictable circumstances. And you can’t even handle a small variable like a single Winter Wolf easily. I suggest you just stick to being a Noble in the future… At least within sturdy Castle walls, you only need to be careful not to choke to death on a large piece of meat.”

“‘A small variable’? Get this straight, I’m no Violet Thorn Archmage, or Seventh Rib or something like that! That’s the most terrifying threat on the plains…” the boy retorted in displeasure.

“It’s the Seventh Cervical Vertebra! And… Winter Wolves are only dangerous in packs! A lone Winter Wolf is just a low-tier magical beast, not much stronger than a Goblin! In fact, a simple Flash spell could have scared off most of the Goblins and also helped you spot the Winter Wolf in the bushes…” The Lich responded to the boy’s complaint with a dismissive snort. “If you can’t even handle something of this level, you useless Noble brat… If you were studying at the Mestalia Mage Association, you’d probably end up as lab material within three days.”

“You old creep!”

Faced with the Lich’s lecture, Constantine could only helplessly purse his lips. He knew there was no point in arguing further about this—under the Mestalia Mage Association’s educational methods, the status of a Mage Apprentice was barely higher than a slave. This approach did indeed produce Mages more suited for combat, but the overly harsh environment also fostered dark personalities. Actually, in Constantine’s view, Hartdiel was quite decent. Perhaps the centuries spent as a Lich had smoothed out the more bizarre aspects of his personality. At least he wasn’t a maniacal killer… Though, that tendency to show off his knowledge might also count as a kind of perverse mindset.

After a short rest, the second wave of training began.

When it came to adventuring, the old fellow was truly experienced. The scenarios he created often had a high degree of suddenness, and the tension where a single moment of distraction could lead to death made Constantine complain incessantly.

For example, after driving off a group of Goblins, there lay a specially crafted, ornately decorated, golden-glittering chest in their muddy pool. The half-open lid faintly revealed the glint of treasure, highly enticing. But just as Constantine reached for it, the treasure suddenly came alive—not the treasure itself, but the entire treasure chest transformed. The large chest suddenly twisted and expanded rapidly, instantly turning into a huge monster over two meters tall… and swallowed him whole!

Or, when the exit of a certain cave seemed just within reach, slimy, gluey goo hid within the dry leaves on the ground. If the overjoyed boy dashed toward the light, he might very well slip the next moment into a pit filled with spikes or into the giant maw of a jelly-like ooze monster!

“Explorers always remind people to pause before entering or exiting a cave entrance. First, to regain stamina for possible unexpected situations, and second, to give the eyes time to adjust to the light…”

The old Lich’s explanations always arrived belatedly, after the boy had been thoroughly trampled by these traps.

“On the battlefield, time is a Mage’s second life. With the same mana and the same spell, the one who finishes chanting first gains the advantage. Different people take different amounts of time to chant spells, after all. Accent habits, even mood can affect a spell’s performance. But chanting faster isn’t always better either; the higher the spell level, often the longer and more tongue-twisting the incantation, and faster chanting increases the chance of failure. However, once you master the key syllables, your casting speed will naturally increase. Remember…”

The boy learned diligently… Although his attitude seemed more about playful revenge, Hartdiel truly lived up to being an experienced Spellcaster. And these casting techniques were often a Mage’s greatest secret, rarely taught even to their closest disciples. After many trials, Constantine gained a fair bit of instruction… The chanting time for several spells he knew was forcefully reduced by a quarter, and he became much more proficient with some of the hand gestures as well.

The corresponding price, however, was that when he arrived at the Magic Tower, the familiar dark bruise had returned under his eye.

…

“Torero, torero, time for work now… Heh… heh!”

Humming the unfamiliar tune his father often sang while working from memory, Cheney vigorously scrubbed the lab table with a piece of burlap cloth, as if the shine on the stone surface was a mark of some successful spell.

The laboratory was huge; the area of the lab tables alone was larger than he remembered his home being. Cleaning it all by himself was actually not easy work. Although using the Unseen Servant spell would make cleaning much quicker and easier, most of the time he still preferred to do these tasks by hand… and not just because of the habits of the poor.

Relying on spells was certainly more convenient, but what if some Mage suddenly assigned a difficult task? The consequences of not having any spells available could be unpredictable. Therefore, timid Cheney had long been accustomed to reserving usable Spell Slots… Supposedly, this was also a habit a Mage should develop. Low-ranking apprentices often proudly boasted about this.

His own cleverness might just allow him to become a Formal Mage… Even if only a high-ranking apprentice capable of using second-tier spells, at least when he returned to his small village, he could have a decent life, maybe even become village chief… Bah, a Formal Mage was at least a Noble. The apprentice habitually let his mind wander. In this almost isolated place, this was the only thing that brought him any joy.

Cheney’s mood was still quite good today. Because he had been assigned what seemed like a promising job—in this laboratory, a small group consisting of a Formal Mage and some high-ranking apprentices was going to research something, and he was assigned to assist.

Inside the Mage Tower, the status of low-ranking Mage Apprentices was barely higher than slaves: cleaning labs, taking out trash, exhausting work. Although there were many Mage Apprentices, out of a hundred, often only a mere six or seven successfully graduated to become Mages. So everyone scrambled for every possible opportunity to stand out, no matter how insignificant it seemed—like Cheney’s current assignment. Although it was just assisting, if he was lucky enough to overhear some theories discussed among the Mages, it could greatly aid his own studies.

Cheney’s hand suddenly froze, because in the center of the lab, the Teleportation Circle suddenly lit up, and a black figure flashed out from within.

Actually, his robe was a very dark gray, but in the dim light of the laboratory, it appeared extraordinarily deep and shadowy, especially the pale chin revealed from within the deep hood. The contrast between his skin and the clothing made him look like some monster from legends.

“Is this Laboratory 1173?” The chin moved, and a gentle, soft voice emerged. Cheney was taken aback for a moment and then relaxed.

“Yes, yes. The Teleportation Array here is still quite serviceable, never had any problems.” The Mage Apprentice made a somewhat unfunny joke—he had already noticed the other was only a little over five feet tall and that the robe had a somewhat faded color, like marks from age or excessive washing… but no badge was visible. This habit usually only lower apprentices had… Though he hadn’t seen him before, in this spatially complex and incredibly vast Mage Tower, that wasn’t anything unusual. “You’re in luck. The instructor and senior apprentices haven’t arrived yet. I’ve basically finished cleaning… All that’s left is waiting for them to come.”

“Although no one specifically requires it, it’s best to wear your badge. Being careful never hurts. I heard the Mage in charge this time is that one, said to be quite strict and serious. Quite a few guys got badly scolded by him for just a moment’s carelessness.”

Tossing the burlap cloth into a bucket, Cheney watched as the black-robed apprentice removed his hood, revealing an ordinary face… The very light blond hair made him look somewhat like those Noble students, but the somewhat lazy smile at the corner of his mouth and the faint bruise under his eyes suggesting sleep deprivation diluted that impression. For some reason, Cheney felt very relaxed. This person in front of him seemed like he could become a companion, and he couldn’t help but chatter a bit to build rapport.

“Mage Corne Best? Not Mage Christine?” The black-robed figure showed a puzzled expression.

“Where did you hear that? Mage Christine? That would have been nice… Are you also a fan of Mage Christine?” Cheney’s eyes darted and he laughed. “I see, you must have heard that Senior Apprentices Thaddeus Odori and Billy Talbot are also part of this group, so you naturally assumed Mage Christine was leading, right? Too bad… I heard she’s recently been busy with her own Golem, probably doesn’t have time to participate in this unlucky project.”

“So what’s Mage Corne Best like? Very strict?” The black-robed figure’s expression shifted slightly, but he still maintained that kind, amiable demeanor.

“How could someone at our level evaluate specifically? I heard he’s among the top high-level Alchemists in the Mage Tower. But they say he doesn’t like going out much; after staying in the Mage Tower for over a decade, his temper probably got a bit odd? Oh, you should be careful. I heard he’s a spell supremacist, so it’s best to try to complete everything using spells. That’ll please him…” The lower apprentice kindly reminded his seemingly somewhat clueless companion, but his topic soon shifted to another piece of information he found rather gleeful. “But you know, I heard the thing being researched this time is something that can fly in the sky without relying much on spells? And they have to collaborate with a Sorcerer, with the other side in charge. This really displeased Mage Corne, but it’s a direct order from the highest instructor and His Majesty the Emperor himself, so he can’t refuse… The guy in charge is in for some fun.”

“So doesn’t that mean that guy is really unlucky?” The black-robed figure’s expression turned somewhat strange.

“Not necessarily… I heard he’s quite well-connected. Didn’t you know?” Cheney was surprised. This information was already widely circulated before joining the group. How out of touch was this guy? But an opportunity to show off his knowledge made him a little happy too, so he began to prattle on. “He’s that… Kang from the northwest… the eldest son of that Griffin family. This time he was even granted the title of Viscount by His Majesty the Emperor… Although Nobles are mostly lazy gluttons, this guy apparently took down a bunch of senior apprentices single-handedly in the apprentice exams… Almost all the senior apprentices with hopes of advancement failed to rank up this time, all supposedly because of him…”

“…Most importantly, he’s a Sorcerer. Archmage Corne always looks down on those who rely on innate talents too.”

At this point, the chattering apprentice carefully glanced around, as if worried his hushed words might still be overheard by the subject of his evaluation. “But you don’t need to be so discouraged. If Archmage Corne clashes with him, we might get the chance to hear a lot of spell theories. And the thing being researched this time is really amazing. Maybe we’ll all get to experience what it feels like to fly…!”

The apprentice’s noisy chatter stopped abruptly as light flared again from the central Teleportation Circle. He hurriedly lowered his head and bowed to the robed figures walking out.

A tall figure walked at the forefront of the group. His steps were steady, his demeanor elegant and haughty. The dim light on his blue Mage robe seemed to add a layer of hazy glow around him, making him appear somewhat unreal. A thin silver chain caused a beautiful dragon-shaped pendant to sway slightly with his movements; the high-tier creature with spread wings seemed to carry a certain imposing vitality, signifying his noble status.

Cold sweat already beaded on Cheney’s forehead… His earlier improper remarks had probably been overheard by the High-Rank Mage. Why else would he walk straight toward them?

But the next moment, something even more mind-boggling for the Mage Apprentice occurred. The Mage stopped before him and performed a bow—though it was just a common courtesy among Mages.

“Good day, Viscount Constantine. I am Corne Best, assigned by Mage Nikolai to assist and oversee this project.”

Constantine returned the bow perfectly, lowering his head to hide his furrowed brow—he was the person in charge of the Airship project, by the decree of His Majesty himself. But the way this fellow phrased it… truly, as the earlier introduction suggested, his prejudice ran deep.

“Please excuse my rudeness… You may be dissatisfied with my statement, but I firmly believe the person in charge of a research endeavor should not simply be the one who proposes a theory. It should be the one most capable.”

The figure shrouded in the blue Robe of Magic seemed to notice the change in the young man’s expression. He spoke, his voice filled with unquestionable firmness, but coupled with that haughty attitude, it sounded particularly jarring.

Standing in the center of the vortex, Cheney trembled slightly. The poor Mage Apprentice felt his mind churning with stormy waves. He wished he could just faint on the spot, but unfortunately, his consciousness remained exceptionally clear at that moment.

He clearly heard the black-robed boy let out a cold laugh. “I don’t particularly care for the title of person in charge. But capability… that’s not something one gets by merely talking about it…”