Chapter 15: Trouble Always Comes With Benefits…

Constantine’s eyes slightly narrowed, noticing the ones approaching were the same few characters he had just seen in the old mage’s laboratory. However, their robes were now dazzlingly luxurious, the once dull fabric now shimmering with colored light under the sun, resembling silk.

“Are you the one who just awakened sorcerer talents?” Forming a line in front of Constantine, one of them stepped forward and asked bluntly. Despite his splendid attire, his tone was more like a street thug’s, even with a grinding sound mixed into his speech. “Looks like a noble, huh? Hmm?”

Such a petty trick naturally couldn’t intimidate Constantine. Though they had numbers, when had a grown man ever been scared by a few kids’ words? Moreover, despite trying hard to sound fierce, a hint of childishness still leaked into his voice. To the boy’s ears, it just sounded funnier.

“What if he’s a noble? Cast a Fireball Spell anywhere in Hayton City, and it could burn a dozen fifth-rate nobles. Someone dressed without any decorum can at most rely on some title gained from who-knows-where to scrape by. Compared to commoners, they only have long and stinky names!” Another short, skinny guy chimed in disdainfully, puffing out his chest as if to make the golden badge hanging by his Robe of Magic more noticeable. “Such guys are a disgrace to real nobles!”

“I knew it… sigh, that girl is really messing with me. Even letting me wear a family crest would have been better…”

Constantine habitually rubbed his nose, muttering in a voice only he could hear, as his gaze swept over his simple Hunting Attire vest and trousers—his usual comfortable wear in his room, light and good for movement, and closer to the clothing from his original world. However, this outfit looked rather plain and shabby to outsiders, even though the vest had some quite exquisite patterns. It definitely didn’t look like the attire of a duke’s son.

“You’d better watch your words. Putting aside noble status, this is the new sorcerer that Archmage Nikolai favors. Even the few of us together might not be his match. If you anger him, tsk tsk… the consequences could be serious…”

The only female among the four, a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, suddenly spoke up. It sounded somewhat dissuasive, but the strong mockery and mixed excitement in her tone completely changed the meaning.

These three seemed quite experienced in their coordination… whether this was the way of real nobles aside, their group taunting skill was probably nearly maxed out.

“He’s just a sorcerer…” Young people always liked to show off power, especially in front of those they liked or disliked. The two who spoke first suddenly had a layer of crimson flash in their eyes, their breathing growing heavier. If not for the lack of corresponding curved horns on their heads, Constantine might have suspected they had Minotaur blood.

The boy quickly thought through the situation… these guys clearly had some backing, and being a mage apprentice itself was quite a reliance. But he had just arrived in Hayton, and his identity wasn’t even clear yet, so he naturally had no ties to any family. Therefore… this should be a relatively simple incident, right?

“Hold back a bit… you two. Our purpose here isn’t to exchange rude words with others…” Just before Constantine could speak, the leader of the group, a gloomy-looking apprentice wrapped in a blue robe, spoke up.

“This… sir, my friends mean no harm…” The blue-robed boy chose his words carefully, speaking in the authentic Central District accent—considered the most elegant noble tone, though its falseness made Constantine scratch his nose heavily again. “In fact, I’m honored to meet a new spellcaster. Becoming friends with you would be even more welcome…”

“However, before that, I think there’s something you should know…” After uttering a string of nonsense he probably didn’t believe himself, the boy got to the point: “A sage once said, what is destined not to be yours, no amount of effort will make it yours. Do you think that makes sense?”

Constantine’s smile faded slightly—he noticed a look in the other’s eyes that he found extremely annoying. This boy, about his own age but clearly much more arrogant, had an absolute confidence that had turned into haughtiness. Usually, this was the privilege of geniuses and high nobles.

“Talking like that, he probably won’t understand. Put it simply… Miss Christine is very busy. She doesn’t have extra time to waste on someone like you. So, stay away from her from now on, got it?” The blue-robed boy might still care about noble elegance, but his two companions clearly didn’t. Before he could fully express himself, the first speaker impatiently cut him off!

For this? Constantine was both annoyed and amused. He had wasted all that analysis, and the answer was actually this simple? Women sometimes really were the root of trouble…

“The most important quality for a spellcaster is reason. Reason encompasses many things: wisdom, not being blind. You must understand what kind of person you want to become, recognize yourself, and surpass yourself. Let your reason rule over your body, not let your body control you.”

A rhythmic, drawn-out phrase suddenly echoed in everyone’s mind. The voice was plain, slightly hoarse, almost like a mutter, yet each word was exceptionally clear. This quote came from a biography, supposedly a famous saying of a certain archmage. But the tone now was like an elder admonishing the younger, and paired with the situation, it became an extremely effective… provocation.

“Bastard! Who do you think you are? How dare you lecture us?” The speaking guy instantly flew into a rage! He cursed and spat out bold words unfitting for his age: “Enough talk. Let’s break his wrist. See how he casts spells after that.”

“Damnit! Hartdiel! What are you doing?!” Constantine frowned, shouting displeasedly in his mind—those words hadn’t come from his mouth, but were a Soul Tongue message from the lich inside him! But for some reason, the voice sounded seventy to eighty percent like Constantine’s own!

“An overly peaceful and fun world is worse than any corrosive agent… Such fools are too rare, impossible not to want to teach a lesson…” The lich spoke enthusiastically… of course, his flat tone didn’t change, but Constantine could tell he was secretly laughing!

“I’ll deal with you later!”

Constantine cursed hatefully. Though he didn’t know why the skeleton suddenly pulled this stunt, now wasn’t the time for internal discipline—two of the four in front of him had already raised their hands, and a series of high and low murmurs followed!

The boy’s heart tightened. Though he knew they were here for trouble, he hadn’t expected them to be so unhesitant about using spells. Though he couldn’t tell what spells they were preparing, clearly, they wouldn’t hold back much now. Once a chant started, stopping it risked magical backlash. Even if Constantine genuinely wanted to stop, they wouldn’t listen.

So, taking a sudden step forward, Constantine swung his hands, and the spellbook flew out… Since he knew this wouldn’t end peacefully, at least he should seize the initiative!

As we know, this world’s papermaking technology wasn’t great—in fact, there was no true paper. They usually used tanned lambskin for writing, so these magic books were quite hefty. Take the one the old mage gave Constantine: only a bit over a hundred pages, but almost as heavy as half a brick. And perhaps for protective reasons, the maker had covered it with brass corners.

Thus, Constantine’s throw gained tenfold lethality.

The slowest to retreat and closest to Constantine was the first victim. The impact on his diaphragm almost stopped his breathing, and his chant turned into a half-scream. Perhaps because the chant had just started, it didn’t cause the legendary spell turbulence. But this guy had a big mouth, so his scream was quite intimidating, making his companions instinctively glance his way.

But their opponent didn’t stop—he charged towards another side while throwing the book. Constantine’s street-fighting experience mostly came from comics and films, and after systematic training in foil and other martial skills, his ability in this area clearly surpassed these kids. The short mage apprentice there only saw a dark shadow flash before him before sharp pain spread from his chin with a crisp impact sound. Then the shadow spread across his entire vision!

Of course, numbers were still an advantage for the kids. Using the little time bought by their two sacrificed companions, the blue-robed, blond kid had already completed his first spell.

“Electric Spark!”

Unlike in Constantine’s familiar world, here, the leader of a group was always the strongest among them—whether in decisiveness or spellcasting experience. With his shout, several crackling blue-white spheres shot from his fingertips towards Constantine. A scream and the smell of scorching immediately filled the air.

Unfortunately, the spell didn’t achieve the caster’s goal—Constantine grabbed the unlucky kid he’d knocked out with a palm strike and pushed him into the lightning’s path. Before the blue-robed boy, who had just hurt his own ally, could chant again, the young boy had dashed forward a few steps under the cover of this shield, arriving right before him.

“A mage can throw fireballs and lightning, but should also have a wise mind and sharp eyes.” The boy smiled, staring at the panicked face, while another voice echoed in the other’s ear.

However, this blue-robed apprentice was quite talented. Knowing this distance was unsuitable for spellcasting, he drew a golden dagger from his waist and made a swift, vicious upward slash!

Constantine frowned deeper. He hadn’t expected such a wordy guy to use such a move. Luckily, the other hadn’t received systematic training. Constantine simply dodged slightly, and the full-force strike missed. Then intense numbness in his arm made him scream involuntarily, and the dagger neatly fell into Constantine’s hand. Next came a pain on the side of his neck, and the faint golden glint at his chin was enough to tell him what was pressed against his throat.

One against four… total victory.

His opponents had completely lost their will to fight—one was busy vomiting stomach acid, another lay on the ground twitching like a skinned frog, and the remaining girl, though she had gathered ice crystals in her hand, hesitated to attack—with two people so close, she clearly lacked confidence to avoid friendly fire. The earlier unlucky guy was a perfect example…

Of course, this doesn’t mean Constantine’s spellcraft surpassed his opponents… The archmage’s teachings naturally gave them systematic and thorough magical theory, but also completely restricted their thinking… Probably in their education, a mage’s fight should involve both sides setting up defensive spells, then leisurely chanting to dismantle each other’s attacks—not rigid or outdated. In fact, for most mages, this tactic was normal and correct. If these four were normal mages, Constantine would likely have lost within thirty seconds… He didn’t even know any defensive spells. With their numbers, even with the Battering Ram ring, he couldn’t face four attackers at once.

But that assumed they were… mages, and skilled ones at that.

Regarding the current outcome, we can only say these kids were really unlucky… Their numerical advantage made them completely overlook defense, even forgetting the common sense that mages aren’t warriors and should maintain distance in duels—of course, they probably never considered that this skinny boy, younger than them, would strike so fast, so decisively. So… either don’t fight, or fight to the death…

Attack the opponent’s weakness first—this was the lesson Constantine forced himself to remember after the last street incident.

“You… you’re crazy! Do you know the consequences of threatening a noble? I’m from the Stock family…” The poor hostage’s voice trembled with fear. His age clearly hadn’t allowed him to cultivate composure in the face of disaster.

“Do you know what this spot is called? I call it an artery. They say it’s the main valve for blood. If I push this lovely little knife another tenth of an inch forward, in about one hourglass mark, you’ll meet Mystra… Of course, before that, your blood will spray three to four feet high like a small fountain… Then you’ll feel very cold, and your mind will be confused. But believe me, among ways to die, it’s a rather comfortable one…” Constantine’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, one corner of his mouth twisting into a smile that, to these rookie mages, was very close to a lower-plane creature’s—the earlier slash had left Constantine shaken. If it had been an inch or two further, his lifelong happiness might have been affected. So, the young Connalyvis, having scared himself into a cold sweat, naturally had to return the favor.

“Ah… murder! Murder! Someone, help!”

The threat didn’t get a result. The sharp scream made Constantine frown… That girl was clever too… The commotion here was enough to attract the attention of all nearby spellcasters.

So, just as Constantine casually pushed the unconscious pretty boy towards his companions, a voice sounded not far from him.

“What are you doing here?”

It was a young mage, about twenty-five or twenty-six, with sharp features and a calm, gloomy expression. Even this casual remark carried an imperious tone. Constantine rubbed his nose, noting the other’s blue robe embroidered with runes and the half-staff visible from the long sleeves, realizing this was clearly not a mage apprentice, but a full-fledged mage.

He took a slight step back, shifting his posture from combat-ready to normal, hoping this could be resolved peacefully.

“Mr. Purness!”

Seeing this peacemaker, the disheveled kids looked immensely relieved. The two who could move immediately moved towards him, and the apprentice girl’s performance was even more dramatic—she instantly pieced together an expression of infinite grievance and began freely twisting the facts: “This guy from who-knows-where suddenly challenged us to a duel! But he didn’t follow the rules at all and even used a weapon!”

Constantine was both annoyed and amused. For a moment, he even admired this girl—with one sentence, she shifted all blame away and turned the weapon he had taken into criminal evidence.

“A warlock apprentice? These guys who rely on petty cleverness are really restless…” The young mage glanced at Constantine’s chest and let out a derisive sound. “Violating Mage Tower regulations, abusing weapons. Will you go accept punishment yourself, or shall I help you?”

This guy was definitely not a good person to talk to. Constantine rubbed his nose, reaching this unpleasant conclusion.

But before he could attempt a final peace effort, the other had already swung his staff with a cold laugh. A green light shot out and struck the ground in front of Constantine! The boy was startled, then felt as if pulled by an invisible giant force. The ground churned and surged like quicksand, and a thick, massive brown arm suddenly shot out, gripping his body with lightning speed!

The arm’s strength was immense. Constantine immediately felt intense pain all over and even heard his bones creaking mournfully!