ã€ŠProgramming is Magicã€‹


 Prologue : The Final Code

    The relentless clattering of the keyboard echoed through the dimly lit room.

    This was a small, dark rented house, its heavy curtains drawn tight against the outside world, blocking out the light and blurring the distinction between day and night. A young man in front of the computer had lost track of time, unable to remember how long he had been sitting there, fingers flying over the keys.

    The room was a chaotic mess: takeout boxes piled high, dirty clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, and empty drink bottles littering the desk. A thick film of dust coated everything, and the air was stale, carrying a damp, musty odor that made it hard to breathe. The boy himself was no better; he hadn¡¯t bathed in days, his hair was a tangled mess, and a week¡¯s worth of stubble covered his face.

    The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard suddenly halted. The boy¡¯s bloodshot eyes were fixated on the screen, a flicker of joy breaking through the exhaustion etched on his face.

    Just then, his phone began to ring, cutting through the stillness. He groaned, rummaging through a mound of empty coffee cans to find it. When he saw the caller ID, he hesitated for a moment before answering.

    ¡°Martin.¡± A melodic yet urgent voice came through the line. ¡°Are you still trying to stop us? Stop the virus you created?¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± Martin replied, forcing a smile, but the relief in her tone was short-lived. ¡°Actually, I just finished. I¡¯ve developed a countermeasure for the Hammer virus. As soon as I upload it, the virus that has wreaked havoc for the past month will be eliminated.¡±

    Panic seeped into her voice. ¡°Martin, I warn you not to do that! I can pay you¡ªhow much do you need?¡±

    ¡°This is the bitter fruit I planted. It¡¯s my responsibility to end it.¡± His voice took on a heavy tone, laced with unspoken grievances. ¡°Mary, you¡¯re still working with those people. They¡¯re profiting from my virus. I can¡¯t just stand by and watch.¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Please, I¡¯m begging you! If the Hammer virus is cleared, they¡¯ll kill me¡­¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what you wanted?¡± His heart sank at the realization. He had trusted her once, but now he felt betrayed. ¡°I used to believe in you, but¡­¡± his voice faltered, filled with a mix of sadness and anger. He sighed, ¡°Mary, you¡¯ve always been good at manipulation.¡±

    He hung up the phone, the weight of her words lingering in the air.

    The phone rang again, but Martin ignored it, tossing it aside in frustration.

    Very few people knew his name, but among those who did, it was synonymous with hacking excellence. He was young but had accomplished feats that even seasoned hackers could only dream of. He had earned the nickname ¡°The Magician¡± in the underground world, thanks to his ability to conjure up viruses that wreaked havoc on networks worldwide. His most notorious creation was the Hammer virus.

    The sheer destructive potential of the Hammer virus kept him from unleashing it until now. But Mary had changed everything. He had fallen for her, and for six blissful months, they had shared everything. Yet, in the end, she had betrayed him, stealing the virus and using it for her own gain.

    Three days later, chaos erupted globally as criminal organizations hijacked major banks and government systems with the Hammer virus. The world was thrown into disarray, and Martin realized the truth: Mary had been a pawn, a ¡°thief¡± sent to exploit him.

    Though he was a hacker, he had always adhered to a code of ethics. The disaster caused by his creation pushed him to confront his own limits. After a month of sleepless nights, he had finally crafted a countermeasure.

    ¡°This is it¡­ it¡¯s all over¡­¡±

    The cursor hovered over the Enter key. One press would upload the countermeasure, neutralizing the Hammer virus and ending the chaos that had persisted for weeks.

    He pressed down, the progress bar on the screen inching toward 100%. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He swayed, struggling to maintain his balance. He took a few tentative steps before collapsing to the floor.

    Mary¡¯s voice echoed in his mind, fading into the darkness that enveloped him.

    He was utterly drained. Was this truly the end?

    Yet, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He had reached the pinnacle of his craft, a feat few could claim. The Hammer virus, once unstoppable, had been brought down by his own hands¡ªa fitting end.

    With a weary heart, he closed his eyes. He had no regrets.

 Chapter 1: A New Reality

    " If you want to take over my store today, you¡¯ll have to step on my giant sword!¡±

    ¡°Debbie, why are you making this harder than it has to be? Your father has passed, and you¡¯ve borrowed a lot of money to settle his affairs. According to the contract, if you can¡¯t repay your debt, you¡¯re supposed to surrender Anthony¡¯s shop. Those contracts are binding¡ªare you really going to regret this now?¡±

    ¡°Busca, you know I can pay the money, but you¡¯ve been driving away my customers, ruining my business! Everyone knows you¡¯ve had your eye on Anthony¡¯s magical lodge for a long time!¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? The contract is right here. If you don¡¯t want to give up the shop, I advise you not to make any foolish moves.¡±

    Martin''s consciousness flickered back to life, and he was jolted awake by the heated exchange.

    What is happening? Is this some kind of film? A shameless display of bullying the poor girl? Where is the public decency?

    He opened his eyes and instinctively tried to sit up, only to cry out in pain as he collapsed back down. His body ached, and he was disoriented.

    But what shocked Martin even more was his surroundings. He found himself in a hut filled with bizarre objects, exuding an unmistakable magical aura. In the center of what appeared to be a cluttered shop, two men were confronting a girl.

    The men were imposing figures, led by a portly man with prominent ears, a long nose, and wild red curls. He wore gaudy golden robes, clearly the boss in this situation. The other two were muscular brutes, brandishing weapons and sneering as they watched the girl.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Across from them stood the girl¡ªa slight figure, perhaps no more than fifteen or sixteen, with short black hair. Despite her delicate appearance, she wielded a massive sword that looked impossibly heavy for her frame. Yet, she held it with an ease that astonished Martin.

    What the hell is going on? Where am I? Who are these people? They look like they¡¯ve stepped out of a fantasy novel, and I was just in my rented house! Did I somehow die and end up in another world?

    As a hacker who had spent his life navigating the depths of the internet, Martin had encountered countless stories of fantastical realms. But this felt different.

    Then, an intense wave of pain surged through his head, and suddenly, memories that weren¡¯t his own flooded in like a torrent.

    This was not just any world; it was a realm dominated by magic¡ªthe continent of Aigendas. The owner of this body, also named Martin, was an orphan taken in by George Anthony, the proprietor of the magical lodge. This Martin had shown a knack for magic from a young age, and George had hoped to groom him as his successor. However, he had also hoped for a union between Martin and his daughter, Debbie.

    But George¡¯s health had deteriorated, leading to his untimely death. In a desperate bid to save him, Martin and Debbie had exhausted their savings on medical expenses. After George¡¯s passing, they found themselves deep in debt and had to turn to the local loan shark, Buska, who had maliciously driven away their customers to force them into default.

    Martin''s identity was now entwined with this new life¡ªa life of magic.

    A sudden clang interrupted his thoughts; the two thugs had begun their assault on Debbie. Although she was slim, she wielded the enormous sword like a seasoned warrior, making Martin realize that this was not as unusual in Aigendas as he initially thought. The world was filled with various professions, including swordsmen, who could excel even without magical talent.

    Debbie was a second-tier swordsman, and while that made her formidable, the two men accompanying Busca were also second-tier fighters. The odds were stacked against her.

    As Martin watched the confrontation unfold, he could no longer remain passive. He had to act. This was his chance to reclaim control of his life¡ªor rather, the life of this body he now inhabited.

    ¡°Debbie!¡± he shouted, his voice breaking the tension. ¡°You don¡¯t have to fight them alone!¡±

    All eyes turned toward him, surprise etched across their faces. It was now or never.

 Chapter 2: The Awakening of Power

    Martin scrambled to his feet, retrieving the wand that had fallen to the ground and raising it high. With a shout, he exclaimed, ¡°Lightning!¡± The wand traced a shimmering arc through the air, aiming at one of the towering men before him.

    As a novice mage, Martin was only a second-level practitioner. His repertoire of spells was limited to simple, everyday incantations. He preferred spells like [Breeze] and [Dust Removal]¡ªharmless and practical. Attacking spells felt foreign to him, an uncharted territory he had never ventured into.

    Now, as he invoked [Lightning], he felt a surge of confidence, bolstered by the memory he inherited as a hacker . But to his dismay, the only response was a flicker of sparks at the tip of the wand. Nothing more.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± he muttered, bewildered.

    The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at him, confusion etched on their faces. Debbie, a fierce warrior with a glint of hope in her eyes, shouted, ¡°You have to hide! You can¡¯t fight¡ªleave it to me!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let that kid escape! Quinn, grab him!¡± shouted Busca, one of the imposing figures in the room.

    A swordsman named Quinn sneered, striding toward Martin with malicious intent.

    Debbie rushed to intercept him, swinging her massive sword, but was blocked by Busca, who stepped in her path. ¡°Martin, get out of here! Now!¡± she yelled in desperation.

    But Martin stood his ground, clutching the wand with determination. He was struck by a sudden realization¡ªmagic operated similarly to the programs he had spent his life creating.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Magic was a manifestation of mental power and intent, a way to shape the world around him. The spell [Lightning] required a mental template, a specific configuration of magical symbols stored in his mind. Activating the spell meant channeling that template through the wand and drawing in the elements of lightning from the environment.

    He tried to summon the spell again, drawing on the knowledge inherited from Hammer. However, something felt off. The magic template he had formed in his mind was flawed, preventing him from harnessing the lightning elements correctly.

    ¡°The magic template!¡± Martin thought frantically. ¡°It must be corrupted!¡±

    His heart raced as Quinn¡¯s rough hands seized him by the collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. With a menacing grin, Quinn taunted, ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Mr. Mage? Your magic doesn¡¯t seem to be working.¡±

    Martin felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. He was running out of time. The long sword in Quinn¡¯s hand was poised to strike, and the reality of his predicament began to sink in.

    He focused intently, recalling the structure of the [Lightning] template. Each spell was composed of magical symbols, and he had the capability to identify the errors within. As a peak hacker, deciphering code was second nature to him.

    With urgency, he mentally navigated the structure of the spell. ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± he thought. ¡°Just a few lines, and if I can spot the error¡­¡±

    ¡°Here! This symbol is wrong!¡± he gasped as clarity flooded his mind. ¡°It¡¯s creating a redundancy that¡¯s breaking the spell!¡±

    ¡°Martin!¡± Debbie¡¯s voice cried out again, snapping him back to reality.

    Quinn¡¯s sword was inches from his chest, and he could feel the weight of impending doom. But instead of fear, Martin felt a strange calm wash over him.

    He raised his wand one last time, a smile forming on his lips. ¡°Lightning!¡±

    A brilliant bolt arced from the wand, striking Quinn squarely in the chest. The impact sent him crashing backward, his body slamming into a shelf, sending debris flying.

    Martin landed gracefully, wand in hand, exhilaration coursing through him. In that moment, he felt powerful and alive.

    "That was... surprisingly exhilarating," he thought, a newfound confidence igniting within him.

 Chapter 3: The Spark of Conflict

    Quinn was struck by the "lightning" spell cast by Martin , crashing into a nearby shelf. The wooden structure splintered, sending an array of gadgets tumbling to the floor. A sword clattered and lodged itself into the wall, leaving Quinn sprawled among the debris. The soft cloth armor covering his chest was scorched and smoldering, a testament to the spell''s impact. Though he was not fatally injured, he was in no condition to rise anytime soon.

    In Anthony''s magical hut, silence enveloped the room, the aftermath of the spell leaving everyone stunned.

    [Lightning] was a basic first-level spell, its destructive power limited, yet it had sent a second-level swordsman like Quinn flying. This was a clear indication that Leaf had mastered the spell to an extraordinary degree.

    It was common knowledge that even the slightest mistake in casting could lead to a spell¡¯s failure, but Martin had struggled to cast [Lightning] moments before.

    "Unbelievable... this has to be a fluke," Busca, the self-proclaimed boss, finally broke the silence, his finger jabbing at Martin. "He just cast that spell by accident. I did my homework; he¡¯s just a magician¡ªhe can¡¯t do any real damage!"

    ¡°Locke, attack him! He won¡¯t be able to cast again!¡±

    ¡°Lightning!¡± Martin shouted, pointing his wand at Busca. A silver-white bolt shot forth, leaving no room for mercy. In that moment, he felt an unfamiliar satisfaction at the thought of teaching the greedy businessman a lesson.

    Before the lightning could reach Busca, a shimmering barrier appeared before him¡ªa defensive spell activated just in time. The barrier shattered with a loud crack, sending shards of light scattering. Even so, a tendril of electricity arced toward Busca, causing his frizzy red hair to stand on end and leaving him with a scorched mark across his cheek.

    ¡°You... you broke my ¡®crystal guardian¡¯ spell! That cost me thirty silver coins!¡± he stammered, his bravado slipping as he examined the remnants of his defense.

    Martin¡¯s expression hardened. He turned his gaze to Locke, the hulking swordsman who had been standing nearby. When their eyes met, Locke flinched, instinctively raising his sword.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of your magic!¡± Locke shouted, though his voice trembled slightly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight you, but I will,¡± Martin replied coolly, gesturing toward the incapacitated Quinn.

    Locke¡¯s confidence wavered. He had previously dismissed Martin because he believed he lacked any real offensive spells. But now, witnessing Martin¡¯s command of [Lightning], he understood the threat posed by the magician.

    Locke reluctantly stepped forward to help Quinn, casting wary glances at Martin and Debbie.

    ¡°Busca, you can¡¯t let them get away with this! My son is coming back from the capital in three days. He¡¯s a four-level swordsman, and he will level your magical hut!¡± Busca blustered, though the fear in his eyes betrayed him.

    ¡°Do you think I won¡¯t destroy you right here, right now?¡± Martin''s wand flicked menacingly, a smile creeping across his lips.

    Busca¡¯s bravado crumbled, and he stumbled out of the hut, followed closely by Locke, who was dragging Quinn behind him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let them escape! I still have tricks up my sleeve!¡± Locke shouted, but Martin was already focused on Debbie, the girl with the giant sword.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Martin called, grabbing Debbie¡¯s shoulder. He was acutely aware of his dwindling energy reserves; he could only manage one more [Lightning] spell before collapsing.

    With a final surge of determination, he directed his attention to Quinn. He couldn¡¯t let the opportunity slip away.

    As the exhaustion washed over him, Martin felt himself losing consciousness. His last thought was a mix of regret and longing; he didn''t want to faint, but if he had to, it would be near Debbie.

    ---

    When Martin awoke, he found himself lying on a bed. The pounding in his head had faded, replaced by a dull ache. He stared at the wooden beams overhead, the bizarre events flooding back to him. From hacker to magician to fighting alongside a girl wielding a sword¡ªthe transition felt surreal.

    It must have been a dream. But as he turned his head and saw Debbie sitting at his bedside, he realized it was all too real.

    After exhausting his mental energy, she must have taken care of him. He had no doubt of her strength after witnessing her in battle.

    Cautiously, he sat up, still groggy from sleep.

    ¡°Are you awake?¡± Debbie asked, her eyes brightening. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, and despite her earlier ferocity, she looked quite adorable.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m back to normal,¡± Martin replied with a smile.

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t need to rest?¡± she pressed, concern lacing her voice.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine now,¡± Martin assured her, appreciating her caring nature.

    ¡°Good! Then hurry up! I¡¯m starving!¡± she exclaimed, her face lighting up with enthusiasm, and Martin couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at her childlike exuberance.

 Chapter 4: The Flames of Potential

    The slate before Martin was etched with a few simple magic symbols, forming a basic magic matrix. He marveled at its functionality: it could absorb the fire elements in the air and create a flame. ¡°It¡¯s incredible,¡± he thought as he observed the small stove flickering to life, the red flames dancing merrily.

    In reality, the stove was simply a slab placed on a countertop, engraved with a line of magical symbols. This magic matrix acted like a program, continuously drawing fire elements from the surrounding air.

    Yet, for the magic matrix to work, it had to be activated with actual magic. Magic itself was a vital component in becoming a magician. To Martin, magic felt like a wondrous energy source. If the slate with the magic matrix were a machine, the symbols would be the program or circuit board, and the magic power would be its electricity. Without the right input, the machine remained dormant.

    To the side of the stove, a small blue gemstone glimmered. This magical crystal had the power to keep the flame burning for months. By controlling the output of the magic, Martin could adjust the flame size¡ªakin to using an induction cooktop.

    Magic was an extraordinary energy that everyone possessed, though the amount varied from person to person. Depending on their chosen profession, the energy had different names. Mage''s referred to it as magic, swordsmen called it sword energy, believers identified it as the power of faith, and knights spoke of it as an oath.

    The people in this world had also discovered various types of gemstones that could trap and release the magic within them.

    "The application of magic has permeated everyday life here," Martin mused, glancing around the kitchen. The chandelier overhead was crafted from a flame matrix mixed with glass, while a device on the kitchen counter utilized a wind matrix to create a gentle breeze, much like an electric fan. There was even a simple storage box that kept food cool using an ice matrix¡ªfar different from the refrigerators he was familiar with.

    Anthony¡¯s Magic Cabin, the establishment he was in, specialized in selling such magical items.

    As he continued to marvel at the magic-infused gadgets around him, Martin felt a surge of excitement. With his programming knowledge, he could decipher the thirty-two magic symbols that made up these basic magic matrices. His background in hacking had honed his ability to parse complex strings, which made understanding these magical constructs intuitive.

    ¡°I never imagined my hacking skills would translate to magic¡­¡± he thought, a smile creeping onto his face as he considered the possibilities.

    According to the memories of his predecessor, the more advanced magic in this world was fundamentally built on these thirty-two symbols. Simple spells required fewer symbols, while more complex curses could demand thousands, even millions. The most potent spells had the capability to reshape the earth itself.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    However, mastering the sheer volume of symbols required a level of mental strength that was beyond ordinary individuals. Only those with the magical aptitude of a true magician could hope to bear such a burden.

    "And these magic symbols are far more intricate than any programming language I¡¯ve encountered," he thought. "Combining them could yield incredible effects."

    A newfound interest in the magical world bubbled within him. Yet, he knew he had to improve his own abilities. Currently, he was only a second-tier mage. The hierarchy of magicians was clear: primary mage ranged from levels one to three, intermediate from four to six, and advanced from seven to nine.

    However, reaching the pinnacle as an advanced mage was just the beginning. From there, they would delve into specialized fields, exploring deeper magical elements. It was rumored that a higher sacred realm existed beyond specialization.

    But those thoughts were far ahead of him. In the town of Stan, where Martin resided, the highest-ranking magician barely reached level seven. Even the Martan Empire, to which Stan belonged, only boasted a handful of level eight magicians.

    As Martin contemplated this magical world, he stirred a pot of noodles on the enchanted stove. When the noodles were ready, he called out for Debbie, his companion, to join him for lunch.

    Outside, he spotted Debbie practicing with her oversized sword, her form impressive despite her small stature. She swung the massive weapon with ease, creating an illusion of impending flight with every motion.

    ¡°Debbie, it¡¯s time for lunch!¡± Martin shouted.

    She paused, leaning the sword against a nearby well, and wiped the sweat from her brow before rushing inside, eager for a hearty meal.

    Curious, Martin approached the giant sword leaning against the well and attempted to lift it. To his dismay, he found it far too heavy for him to budge.

    ¡°Looks like I¡¯m better off with magic than swinging swords,¡± he muttered, resigned to his limitations.

    As he watched Debbie devour her noodles, he glanced toward the yard¡¯s entrance, contemplating a stroll. He still had much to learn about the world outside.

    Just as he decided to step out, Debbie appeared before him, a noodle dangling from the corner of her mouth. ¡°Martin, where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± she asked, her hands on her hips.

    ¡°I was just going for a walk¡­¡± he replied.

    ¡°No!¡± she insisted, shaking her head. ¡°You scared off that creep with magic this morning! If he sees you alone, he might try to attack you again. So, you¡¯re not allowed to leave the yard!¡±

    ¡°I can use attack magic now. Why should I be afraid?¡± Martin protested, feeling exasperated.

    ¡°When your attack spell isn¡¯t fully charged, don¡¯t you realize? This morning was pure luck! If you go out there, it¡¯s too risky. Just stay here, and I¡¯ll handle it. I promise after three days, he won¡¯t dare come back. I still have a trick up my sleeve!¡±

    ¡°Then what can I do?¡± Martin asked, feeling a bit helpless.

    ¡°Just focus on living well,¡± Debbie replied seriously.

    ¡°...¡±

    She patted his shoulder reassuringly, her expression a mix of protectiveness and determination. Despite being two years younger, Debbie naturally took on the role of protector, especially since Martin was still a fledgling magician.

    Even though a mage could wield considerable power, their weaknesses were evident, especially in the limited number of spells they could cast.

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll stay put for now¡­¡± Martin nodded, though he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of unease. ¡°Buska said he would return in three days. I need to be prepared for whatever comes next.¡±

 Chapter 5: The Confrontation at Stardust Avenue

    Three days slipped by in the blink of an eye.

    On the morning of the fourth day, Busca instructed the groom to prepare his carriage. After a short ride of two blocks, he arrived at the prestigious Stardust Avenue in Stan City. This avenue, located at the heart of the city, was exclusively reserved for noble vehicles; no ordinary carriage could traverse its well-paved roads. As Busca parked at the end of the street, he gazed at the grand houses and upscale shops lining the avenue, envy flickering in his eyes.

    "When will I have a home on Stardust Avenue?" he mused, thinking of his son, Kerry. "Kerry''s become the guard of the city''s main house, a fourth-order swordsman. With his talents, who knows? He might even reach seventh-order status one day. If that happens, he could earn a noble title, and establishing a family business here wouldn''t be out of reach..."

    As the morning breeze caressed his face, Busca entertained his dreams. But then his thoughts shifted to Anthony''s magical shop, and a sneer crept across his lips.

    "What does that little shop even amount to? My son is on the city council, and I have a transfer contract penned by that little girl. Even if he demolishes his magic shop, he won¡¯t face any repercussions. Let¡¯s see what they do today!"

    Just then, Busca spotted a tall figure approaching down Stardust Avenue. Clad in black iron armor etched with magical runes, it was unmistakably his son, Kerry. The armor was the standard issue for the defenders of the city¡¯s government, equipped with protective charms created by skilled magicians. Such armor was not available on the market for less than dozens of silver coins.

    "Kerry!" Busca called out, a smile spreading across his face.

    "Father!" Kerry replied, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

    "Get in the carriage. We need to talk," Busca urged, ushering his son inside. He instructed the groom to head straight to Anthony¡¯s magical shop.

    Once inside the carriage, Busca recounted the events of the past few days, concluding with, "Locke and Quinn couldn¡¯t handle those two children. They ended up getting hurt because of a foolish magician. This time, I want you to teach them a lesson. With that contract in hand, we can do whatever we want with his shop."

    "Dealing with those two brats will be a cinch," Kerry said with a smirk. But then he paused, looking thoughtful. "But I remember that magician is only a second-level mage. I¡¯ve heard he isn¡¯t keen on offensive spells¡ªjust some life curses. How did he manage to hurt Quinn?"

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "I¡¯m not sure. Something must have provoked that little brat into casting an attack spell. It¡¯s a shame about the crystal guardian charm I bought for thirty silver coins!" Busca replied, his frustration evident.

    Kerry grinned, his confidence growing. "Well, that makes it easier for me. As a fourth-level swordsman, this will be a walk in the park. Just watch how I handle them!"

    ---

    Meanwhile, outside Anthony''s magical shop, Debbie sat on the steps, her expression serious.

    Her youthful face was a mix of determination and anxiety. She wore a simple suit of armor¡ªher birthday gift from old George on her fourteenth birthday. Though its defensive capabilities were minimal, it seemed more like a costume than practical gear on her 15-year-old frame. The armor fit her snugly, accentuating her petite figure, while her oversized sword rested beside her, a stark contrast to her appearance.

    Debbie''s poised demeanor drew the attention of passersby, many stopping to steal glances at the unusual sight.

    Martin approached, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked uneasy about the impending confrontation. Leaning down, he whispered to her, "Can¡¯t we find another way? Maybe talk to the city council?¡±

    Debbie bit her lip, shaking her head. "We¡¯re just a small shop. The city government wouldn¡¯t bother with us. Besides," she continued, her voice low, "the magic shop is technically under Busca¡¯s ownership now. Unless we can find a way to nullify that contract, there¡¯s nothing we can do."

    She turned to Martin, concern etched in her features. "Martin, the wind is picking up. You should head back inside."

    Martin hesitated, feeling the wind chill prick at his skin. "I¡¯m fine," he insisted, although a sneeze betrayed him moments later. "Maybe I need to work on my stamina," he admitted sheepishly.

    He sat beside Debbie, trying to muster some courage. "This magic shop belongs to both of us, and so does this challenge. We face it together."

    Debbie¡¯s stern expression softened slightly, warmth breaking through her concern. But then she looked at him with curiosity. "Martin, you seem... different lately. Why do you suddenly feel so much more confident?"

    Martin felt a flush creep up his cheeks. He had wanted to impress Debbie but hadn¡¯t expected her to notice. "Well, I¡¯ve just realized that I have to step up. The old George entrusted me with you, and I can¡¯t let you down," he replied, trying to sound more self-assured than he felt.

    "Ha! Who said I wanted you to take care of me?" she retorted, her cheeks reddening. Just then, she spotted a carriage approaching, her brow knitting in concentration. She instinctively gripped the hilt of her giant sword, a weapon that was almost as large as she was. "They¡¯re here! Martin, stay behind me and be careful."

    Martin could only shake his head at her fierce resolve. The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the shop, and the door swung open. Kerry, clad in his menacing black armor, leaped out. His eyes narrowed as he looked over Debbie and Martin, a contemptuous smirk curling his lips. "You two really think you can stand up to us? How foolish."

    Debbie straightened, her determination unwavering. "We won¡¯t back down, Kerry!"

    Just then, Busca clambered out of the carriage, slightly off-balance due to his weight. After regaining his composure, he addressed the pair with a commanding tone. "I¡¯m giving you one last chance, Debbie. Hand over the magic shop, and I might let you go unharmed. Otherwise..." He paused, casting a glance at Kerry, "... my son won¡¯t hold back."

    The tension in the air thickened, and the confrontation was set.

 Chapter 6: The Clash of Blades

    ¡°Oh, what a big show of bravado!¡± Kerry scoffed as he watched the small figure brandishing a giant sword, ready to fight. His contempt was palpable.

    Busca smirked coldly. ¡°My son isn¡¯t like Quinn and Lock. He¡¯s a middle-level swordsman. You think you can intimidate a girl with that oversized weapon?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can handle the weight of my sword!¡± Debbie shouted, her determination shining through.

    The crowd around them began to grasp the situation. Busca¡¯s disregard for Anthony¡¯s magical lodge was well-known, especially after the death of George. It seemed that Busca had finally decided to take action, dragging his son into the fray.

    ¡°Busca is such a bully,¡± a bystander murmured.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t there a magician apprentice in Anthony¡¯s Magic shop?¡±

    ¡°Martin? He¡¯s a dullard. I heard he can only manage simple spells like [dust removal] and [breeze]. What good is he now?¡±

    ¡°Busca is taking it too far. Doesn¡¯t the city owner care about this?¡±

    ¡°What can he do? I heard that to cover Old George¡¯s funeral expenses, Debbie had to borrow five silver coins from Busca and used the magical lodge as collateral. If she can¡¯t pay it back, the lodge is Busca¡¯s,¡± another resident added, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s shameless!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a binding contract, so Busca has the right to the lodge¡­ but I doubt the city government will intervene,¡± someone else sighed.

    ¡°If Busca gets away with this, I¡¯ll never shop at his store again,¡± another said defiantly.

    The onlookers continued to murmur, but they were just ordinary townsfolk, powerless to intervene. Busca had brought his fourth-order swordsman son, and the townspeople knew they couldn¡¯t compete with that kind of power.

    As the chatter continued, Busca whispered something to Kerry, who then drew his long sword with a flourish.

    The swordsman¡¯s arsenal consisted of various types of blades: short swords, long swords, fine swords, medium-sized swords, great swords, and giant swords. After reaching senior level, swordsmen specialized in their respective weapons. Debbie wielded a giant sword, while Kerry had a long sword, setting the stage for their confrontation.

    Kerry¡¯s long sword gleamed in the sunlight, polished to a shine, giving off an intimidating aura. With a sneer, he pointed it at Debbie. ¡°Let¡¯s play, shall we? I¡¯ve always wanted to spar with a ¡®great swordsman¡¯!¡±

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°Bring it on!¡± Debbie shot back, her resolve unwavering as she charged at Kerry, her giant sword raised high.

    The clash of metal rang out as the giant sword met the long sword, sending sparks flying. Debbie stumbled back a few steps, but Kerry remained unfazed, pressing the attack.

    Each strike from Kerry was precise and quick, forcing Debbie onto the defensive. She struggled to hold her ground, retreating under the relentless onslaught. The long sword¡¯s speed and agility were overwhelming, and she found it difficult to create any openings for her counterattacks.

    Kerry¡¯s taunts fueled the crowd¡¯s excitement. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got? I thought great swordsmen could handle a little pressure!¡±

    Martin, watching from the sidelines, felt a surge of anxiety. He reached into his bag, preparing to throw a few magical scrolls if the situation escalated.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hold back, Kerry! Finish her!¡± Busca shouted, his eyes gleaming with malice.

    ¡°Debbie, just forget about me! Do what you have to do!¡± Martin yelled, desperate for his friend¡¯s safety.

    ¡°The fourth-order swordsman is too fast. Your magic won¡¯t reach him in time!¡± Martin¡¯s heart raced as he watched Debbie stumble back, her back against the steps of the magical lodge.

    Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Debbie declared, ¡°Don¡¯t worry! I still have a trick up my sleeve!¡±

    ¡°A trick?¡± Martin echoed, confused.

    ¡°When I visited Busca¡¯s store last time, I didn¡¯t want to break anything, so I held back. Now, I don¡¯t care about that!¡± she exclaimed, her confidence returning. She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, taking a deep breath. ¡°Watch this, my ultimate move!¡±

    As she spun her body, the giant sword blurred into motion, creating a whirlwind of steel around her. The centrifugal force made her seem like a spinning top, the blade whirling dangerously close to Kerry.

    ¡°Is that supposed to do something?¡± Martin wondered, sweat dripping down his brow.

    In that moment, the crowd gasped as Kerry¡¯s previous confidence faltered. His attacks were deflected with ease, and he stepped back, unsure of how to counter the whirlwind of steel.

    ¡°Come on, Kerry! Attack!¡± Busca yelled, frustration evident in his voice.

    Kerry, gritting his teeth, lunged forward, trying to find an opening. He slashed three times at Debbie, but each strike was met with a resounding clang, the giant sword bouncing off without leaving a mark.

    Before he could react, Debbie surged forward, the momentum of her spinning attack propelling her toward him.

    ¡°Whoa¡ª¡± Kerry cried out as the giant sword made contact, the impact resonating through the air. The magical runes on his armor flared to life, absorbing some of the blow, but it wasn¡¯t enough. He stumbled back, crashing into Busca¡¯s carriage with a loud crash, wood splintering around him as the vehicle fell apart.

    ¡°Get out of the way!¡± the panicked groom shouted, leaping to safety. The horses bolted, spooked by the chaos.

    Debbie stood still, breathless and wide-eyed, as the crowd fell silent. The second-order swordsman had knocked down a fourth-order swordsman with her unconventional technique.

    ¡°Debbie, he¡¯s not seriously hurt, is he?¡± Martin rushed to her side, concern etched on his face.

    ¡°I know, but¡­ look at this !¡± Debbie exclaimed, caught up in the moment, her excitement suddenly turning to embarrassment.

    With that, she lost her composure, doubling over as she spat out the remnants of her lunch from the previous day.

    The crowd around them stared, caught between shock and laughter, unsure how to react.

    ¡°Debbie!¡± Martin laughed, shaking his head. ¡°Maybe take a moment to breathe?¡±

    Debbie, still recovering from her earlier exertion, managed a sheepish grin. ¡°Alright, but let¡¯s finish this!¡±

 Chapter 7: The Spark of Defiance

    ¡°Look at you! Relying on Mage instead of facing me in a fair fight? Pathetic!¡± Kerry taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. He turned to Martin, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll take over from here.¡±

    Martin wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the weight of the situation. ¡°Is this really necessary?¡± he replied, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I¡¯ve been through worse,¡± Debbie interjected, her voice steady despite the tension. Her gaze locked onto Kerry, who was now rising from the wreckage of the carriage, anger radiating from him as he gripped his sword tightly, ready to retaliate.

    With a swift motion, Martin grabbed Debbie''s shoulder and pulled her behind him. ¡°You need to stay back. I can handle this.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Debbie¡¯s voice was laced with doubt, her eyes searching his face for reassurance.

    ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ve got this,¡± Martin replied, trying to sound confident. As he spoke, Kerry lunged forward, his black iron armor gleaming ominously in the light. A deep gash marred the chest plate, a testament to Debbie''s earlier attack. Fury ignited in Kerry¡¯s eyes as he traced the jagged line with his fingers.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think you can just walk away from this!¡± he shouted, his grip on the sword tightening, the tremor of rage evident in his hands. The armor, a prized possession provided by the city, had suffered an insult it was not designed to withstand.

    Feeling the tension in the air, Martin pushed Debbie aside gently, his own resolve hardening. Digging into his bag, he pulled out a small object, his expression calm. ¡°Your next opponent is me.¡±

    The onlookers felt the air grow thick with tension. Kerry, now fully enraged, advanced slowly, his presence overwhelming. The crowd held its breath, unsure how a young magician like Martin could stand against a seasoned swordsman.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    In that moment, Martin pulled out a small magic scroll, his heart racing. He had prepared for this. ¡°Catch!¡± he shouted, tossing the scroll towards Kerry.

    Kerry¡¯s reflexes kicked in, and he reached out to grab the object, smirking. ¡°You think you can attack me with¡ª¡±

    ¡°Boom!¡±

    The fire magic scroll erupted into a blaze, the flames enveloping Kerry¡¯s hand almost instantly. He screamed as the fire scorched his skin, and he desperately tried to extinguish the flames. Despite the protection of his armor, the magic had found its mark.

    ¡°Magic scroll!¡± Busca shouted, his eyes wide with disbelief.

    The crowd gasped, astonished that a mere shopkeeper''s apprentice could wield such power. Magic scrolls were a luxury, and the idea of using one in a street fight was almost unheard of.

    Kerry finally managed to smother the flames, revealing a swollen, blistered hand that throbbed with pain. His fury intensified, his face contorted with rage. ¡°You dare use magic against me?¡±

    Martin, feeling a surge of confidence, smiled. ¡°No one said it was forbidden. Besides, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be so easy to provoke.¡±

    Time rewound to three days prior in Anthony¡¯s magical shop.

    ¡°This is a magic scroll?¡± Martin mused, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on the task before him. He meticulously followed the template, inscribing intricate magical symbols on the parchment using a special quill dipped in enchanted ink. The process was delicate, and any mistake could ruin the entire scroll.

    Old George had taught him the importance of precision, and now, with his past experience in coding, Martin found himself surprisingly adept at this new craft.

    As he wrote, he recalled the complex spells he had once created, marveling at how different yet similar this was. The art of crafting a magic scroll was not just about writing; it required a deep understanding of magical theory and a steady hand.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see how powerful this scroll can be,¡± he thought, his determination growing. After a mere twenty minutes of focused effort, he had produced the fire magic scroll.

    With a sense of satisfaction, he activated the scroll in the privacy of the shop''s back room, a brilliant explosion of flame illuminating the space. ¡°Not bad,¡± he muttered, impressed by the potency of his creation.

    Now, standing before Kerry, Martin felt the weight of his own courage. He had prepared for this moment, and despite the fear swirling within him, he was ready to face the consequences of his actions. The streets of Stan bore witness to the clash between magic and might, and Martin was determined to stand his ground.

 Chapter 8: The Reckoning of Scrolls

    The scroll was a rare and valuable item, especially for civilians like Busca, who, despite being a local bully on Stardust Avenue, was still considered an ordinary citizen. He was just a bit more fortunate than his neighbors, and even so, spending fifty magic coins on a single scroll was out of the question for him or his son. Such items were reserved for emergencies; in a regular confrontation like this, their utility was limited. Common sense dictated that ordinary civilians rarely resorted to magic scrolls in fights.

    In the heat of the moment, Martin hurled a flame scroll toward Kerry. The scroll struck Kerry¡¯s hand, causing him momentary discomfort, yet Busca felt no concern for his son¡¯s well-being.

    Kerry, too, remained unfazed. "Let¡¯s see how many more of those scrolls you have!" he taunted, brandishing his sword with confidence.

    "Okay, challenge accepted!" Martin replied, a determined glint in his eyes. He reached into his bag, tore open a scroll, and tossed it at Kerry. Then another, and another¡­

    In a matter of seconds, he had thrown five scrolls, two flames, two lightning, and one wind. The air crackled with energy as flames danced and lightning flashed, sending plumes of smoke and dust swirling around. The onlookers gasped; the sight of so many scrolls being unleashed in rapid succession was nothing short of extraordinary. The value of those six scrolls amounted to three silver coins¡ªan exorbitant sum for the average citizen.

    Kerry was prepared, skillfully evading the onslaught, but the embarrassment of having to dodge scrolls was clear on his face.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "Come on, Kerry! Those scrolls are worth a fortune! He can¡¯t have many left! Now¡¯s your chance to attack!" Busca shouted, eager for his son to seize the moment.

    Taking his father¡¯s words to heart, Kerry lunged forward, sword raised high, teeth bared.

    Martin, maintaining his cool demeanor, dug into his bag again, pulling out more scrolls and tossing them one by one, as if he was carelessly discarding coins. Each scroll he threw was equivalent to the average monthly income of a typical civilian. The crowd was stunned; how could anyone waste such wealth so nonchalantly?

    As the scrolls rained down on Kerry, he found himself overwhelmed. He had faced many opponents in his time, but never had he seen someone unleash a barrage of scrolls in such a reckless manner. By the time Martin finished, he had thrown a total of thirty-nine scrolls, each worth fifty copper coins¡ªnearly twenty silver coins in total!

    Panting slightly, Martin paused to catch his breath, eyeing Kerry, who was now visibly dazed from the sheer volume of magic being thrown at him.

    "You think you can keep this up? Your scrolls will run out eventually!" Kerry shouted, attempting to regain his composure. He raised his sword once more, ready to strike.

    But Martin had a different plan. He planted his wand firmly into the ground, channeling a spell that would create a gust of wind. With deft flicks of his wrist, he activated a scroll from the pile scattered at Kerry''s feet.

    The ground erupted into flames, catching Kerry off guard. He shrieked in surprise as he stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the blast.

    The scrolls at his feet began to stir, almost as if they had a life of their own, rising up to hover in the air before him.

    The crowd watched in silence, captivated by the spectacle. Martin, with a sly grin, controlled the magic at his fingertips, directing the scrolls toward Kerry as if they were sentient weapons primed for battle.

    As the flames flickered and the dust settled, Kerry remained rooted to the spot, caught between disbelief and fear. The tide had turned, and the power of the scrolls was no longer just a distant concept but a stark reality he had to face.

 Chapter 9: Clash of Steel and Magic

    Martin had never been interested in offensive magic; instead, he had always favored life spells, particularly the [Dust Removal] spell. It was versatile and effective, allowing him to control the battlefield without drawing attention to his intentions. Today, however, he had a plan that required a different approach.

    As he prepared to unleash his strategy, Martin deftly unfurled a series of scrolls containing various spells. Each scroll represented a significant investment, and he knew he had to maximize their potential. With the flick of his wand, he activated the first scroll, sending a flurry of magical energy toward Kerry.

    Fire, lightning, earth, water, wind¡­ each scroll activated in quick succession, propelled by Martin¡¯s precise control. He had trained for moments like this, his fingers dancing along the wand as if he were playing a video game. In a previous life, he had been a peak-level hacker, and now he channeled that same skill into manipulating magic.

    Kerry, a fourth-order swordsman, found himself on the defensive. The scrolls bombarded him from all angles, and despite his training, he struggled to keep up. A fire spell singed his hair, and dirt and grime coated his once-glorious armor. The crowd watched in stunned silence, unable to comprehend how Martin¡ªa second-order magician¡ªcould dominate someone with Kerry¡¯s skill.

    In a matter of moments, Martin had unleashed hundreds of scrolls, each worth a small fortune. The realization hit the onlookers: this wasn¡¯t just a clash of magic and swords; it was a display of wealth and power.

    Kerry was enveloped in a cloud of swirling dust and smoke, making it impossible to see his condition. The last flame scroll ignited, illuminating the area momentarily before the dust settled. Martin, panting and exhausted, kept his wand trained on the lingering cloud, his heart racing with anticipation.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Did I really just beat him?¡± he wondered aloud, a mix of pride and disbelief washing over him.

    Debbie approached Martin, her eyes wide with shock. ¡°You actually defeated him like this? This is... unbelievable!¡±

    Martin couldn¡¯t help but smile, but then his expression turned serious. ¡°How much did this cost? How many scrolls did I use?¡±

    Debbie frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. ¡°Wait, I thought we only had seven scrolls in stock? You wrote a hundred in a few days?¡±

    ¡°Uh, well¡­¡± Martin stammered, feeling a bit sheepish. ¡°I may have gone a bit overboard¡­¡±

    Debbie¡¯s expression shifted from shock to concern as she glanced at the dust cloud. ¡°He won¡¯t be dead, right?¡±

    ¡°I hope not,¡± Martin replied, trying to convince himself. ¡°But I might need to check¡­¡±

    With a wave of his wand, he cast [Dust Removal] again. The dust parted, revealing Kerry in a defensive stance, sword planted firmly in the ground, looking far more composed than he should have been.

    ¡°Is he posing for the afterlife?¡± Martin muttered, incredulous.

    Debbie¡¯s eyes widened in recognition. ¡°No, that¡¯s a defensive position! He¡¯s using the God of War technique!¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Martin exclaimed, just as Kerry surged to his feet, a fierce light igniting in his eyes. Enveloped in a glow, he looked like a warrior reborn, his power amplified.

    In a split second, Kerry charged, his speed now exponential. He closed the distance between himself and Martin in an instant, rage etched on his face. ¡°I will kill you!¡± he roared, grabbing Martin by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

    Martin struggled to breathe, panic surging through him. Just when it seemed all hope was lost, a glimmer of determination sparked within him. He still had one trick left.

    With a quick gesture, he pointed his wand at Kerry¡¯s armor, now marred with the remnants of their clash and dotted with strange black lines. Those lines were remnants of his earlier spells, inscribed with a simple fire matrix.

    Activating the magic, Martin grinned as Kerry¡¯s armor suddenly ignited into flames, catching the swordsman off-guard.

    ¡°Now that¡¯s how you fight fire with fire!¡± Martin shouted, relishing the moment as chaos erupted around them.

 Chapter 10: The Price of Fire

    Martin had devised a plan that involved using magic ink to inscribe a fire magic matrix onto Kerry''s enchanted armor. This ink was not just any ordinary substance; it was a specialized material capable of materializing magic matrices. Typically, these matrices were drawn on parchment to create potent scrolls, but in this case, the enchanted armor itself provided a suitable canvas.

    The magic ink required precise craftsmanship, and Martin was fortunate that Kerry¡¯s armor met the necessary standards. Among the scrolls that had been salvaged from the aftermath of the previous confrontation, some were infused with extra magic ink, skillfully contained within cotton balls wrapped in oil paper. Martin, using the life magic spell [Dust Removal], was able to manipulate the cotton ball of magic ink with remarkable precision. As he worked, he inscribed the fire magic matrix directly onto Kerry¡¯s armor, a feat not easily accomplished, especially for a low-level magician.

    Once completed, the matrix awaited activation, which would draw from the ambient magic energy around them. When the magic was finally channeled into the matrix, flames erupted, engulfing Kerry in a fiery blaze.

    The enchantments within Kerry''s armor, designed to harness and sustain magic, had only intensified the flames. The fire was relentless, and as it licked at his body, Kerry¡¯s shouts of panic echoed through the air. Unlike a standard flame curse that would extinguish after a short duration, this fire was fed by the residual magic in the armor, becoming an unyielding inferno.

    The crowd that had gathered stood in shock. They had anticipated a straightforward confrontation, but Martin''s unexpected tactic had turned the tables. Was this a high-level spell ? The rumors whispered among the onlookers suggested it was a flame that would only extinguish when its target was consumed.

    ¡°Kerry! Kerry!¡± Busca cried out, grinding his teeth in desperation as he rushed toward Martin. "What have you done? Put out the fire on my son!"

    ¡°Alright,¡± Martin replied calmly, though his heart raced at the sight of the chaos he had unleashed. He had prepared for this moment, and yet he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow. ¡°But first, I need that contract.¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°What contract?¡± Busca¡¯s eyes darted between his son and Martin, panic etched across his face.

    ¡°Your son is a fourth-order swordsman. I imagine he can endure for a few more minutes,¡± Martin stated, his voice steady.

    Busca, sweat dripping from his brow, fumbled through his pocket and produced a scroll of yellowed paper. ¡°Here! Just put out the fire!¡±

    Martin unfurled the contract, his eyes scanning the contents. The moment he saw Busca¡¯s signature, he tore it in half, relishing the moment. ¡°You¡¯ve given me the contract. Now put out the flames!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play games with me! You need to help my son!¡± Busca shouted, his voice tinged with desperation.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Martin replied coolly. ¡°You¡¯ve caused significant disruption to Anthony¡¯s magic shop. You owe us for the losses incurred. I¡¯d say one hundred gold coins would be fair.¡±

    ¡°Are you mad?¡± Busca exclaimed. ¡°One hundred gold coins? Do you expect me to just hand that over?¡±

    ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing right now?¡± Martin asked, smirking. ¡°Time is running out.¡±

    As Kerry continued to writhe in agony, Busca¡¯s resolve crumbled. He took a deep breath and reluctantly reached into his pocket, pulling out a brass-colored card, the emblem of the Goblin Bank. ¡°This represents one hundred gold coins. Just take it!¡±

    Martin accepted the card, shoving it into his pocket. He could see the horror etched on Debbie¡¯s face as she realized the magnitude of the transaction.

    ¡°Now, extinguish my son¡¯s flames!¡± Busca demanded, his voice trembling.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Martin replied, his demeanor shifting to that of a calm spellcaster. He raised his wand and uttered a spell, ¡°Water!¡±

    A gentle stream of water materialized, cascading over Kerry''s burning form. The flames hissed and sputtered, succumbing to the onslaught of water. In moments, the fire was extinguished, leaving Kerry gasping for air, his once-pristine armor now charred and battered.

    Kerry collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. His face was singed, and his once-glorious armor resembled that of a battered warrior rather than a proud swordsman.

    Busca was left speechless, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend what had just transpired. ¡°You... you tricked me!¡± he stammered, finally realizing the extent of Martin¡¯s deception.

    ¡°I¡¯m just a second-order magician. What kind of powerful spells could I possibly wield?¡± Martin replied, a smug smile creeping across his face. ¡°Your son is fine. He¡¯s simply been through the equivalent of a training exercise. A bit of fear is good for the soul, after all.¡±

    Busca clenched his fists, the sound of his teeth grinding echoing in the tense silence. He had been outmaneuvered, and the realization stung more than the flames had.

 Chapter 11: The Unexpected Encounter

    Busca hurriedly led his son away from the scene, but the crowd did not disperse immediately. Instead, they gathered around Martin, voices buzzing with amazement. Mages were a rare breed, and although the previous hammerhead had tarnished the image of magic users, the impressive display by Martin had drawn admiration.

    ¡°Martin, your magic is incredible! I was sweating just watching you!¡± one onlooker exclaimed.

    ¡°Right? They should call him a genius! A second-level magician taking down a fourth-level one? That¡¯s a bold move! And he even got a hundred gold coins out of it!¡± another chimed in.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget, Busca practically robbed him! He¡¯s been flaunting his arrogance around here for too long; it¡¯s about time someone put him in his place,¡± someone else added.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to regret crossing paths with a second-level magician. Kerry''s abilities could be compromised after this,¡± another voice suggested, speculating on the implications of the confrontation.

    As the crowd continued to chatter, Busca¡¯s reputation as a bully in the street was taking a hit.

    Suddenly, the crowd parted, and Debbie squeezed her way through, her bright smile lighting up her face like a blooming flower. She approached Martin, clearly excited, her small frame adorned in armor that was too big for her, a testament to her youthful spirit.

    ¡°Martin! That gold card¡ªhand it over to me for safekeeping!¡± she said, her tone a mix of authority and playfulness.

    Martin raised an eyebrow, taken aback. ¡°Is that really the most important thing right now?¡± he thought, wishing she would focus on her own bravery in the confrontation rather than the finances.

    But knowing better than to argue, he handed over the gold coin card. Debbie eagerly took it, examining it like it was a treasure. Once it was secure in her armor, she patted her chest as if to reassure herself, a proud grin spreading across her face.

    As the crowd gradually dispersed, Debbie pulled Martin back toward Anthony¡¯s magical shop. She stretched her arms above her head, a look of satisfaction washing over her. ¡°There¡¯s nothing like a good fight to get the blood pumping!¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    But then, as if recalling a sudden need, she touched her stomach. ¡°Martin, I¡¯m hungry! I haven¡¯t eaten properly in days.¡±

    ¡°What do you feel like having?¡± Martin asked, smiling at her enthusiasm.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go to the big restaurant! We¡¯re rich now!¡± she declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

    Martin paused, trying to grasp the significance of a hundred gold coins. The amount felt enormous, especially since he had recently struggled to afford basic necessities. He remembered borrowing ten gold coins from Busca just to cover George¡¯s funeral expenses. A hundred gold coins was a small fortune.

    ¡°Sure, let¡¯s go!¡± he replied, eager to experience the world beyond Anthony¡¯s shop.

    Half an hour later, they found themselves seated at a window table in the Orchid Inn, the finest restaurant in Stan City. The table was laden with dishes that Martin had only dreamed of tasting, each one more exquisite than the last.

    Debbie, dressed in a flowing white dress with her hair styled in playful ponytails, looked every bit the innocent girl. But the giant sword she carried, nearly dwarfing her, reminded Martin of her fierce spirit and determination.

    ¡°The swordsman can¡¯t forget his sword, just like a magician can¡¯t forget his wand,¡± she remarked, glancing at Martin with a sly grin. ¡°Where is your wand ?¡±

    Martin shifted uncomfortably. ¡°I, uh... forgot it,¡± he admitted sheepishly.

    Debbie blinked, momentarily speechless.

    As they enjoyed their meal, Martin couldn¡¯t help but admire the vibrant world around him. The city of Stan was a blend of medieval charm and magical wonder, with colorful enchantments filling the streets. Magic-infused street signs glowed with a warm light, while horse-drawn carriages moved gracefully along the cobblestone roads. Various races mingled, each adding their own unique flair to the bustling atmosphere.

    While savoring his meal, Martin¡¯s gaze suddenly drifted outside, captivated by a striking figure approaching. His focus sharpened as he recognized a girl riding a stunning white horse, effortlessly parting the crowd.

    ¡°What are you staring at, Martin? Don¡¯t waste the food!¡± Debbie snapped, following his gaze. Her eyes widened as she spotted the girl. ¡°Is that... Lady Effia?¡±

    Martin¡¯s heart raced. Lady Effia, the daughter of the city lord, was renowned as a prodigious swordsman, already a fifth-level warrior at a mere sixteen years of age. Her presence commanded respect, and her beauty was undeniable.

    ¡°She¡¯s incredible,¡± Martin murmured, momentarily lost in admiration.

    Debbie nudged him playfully. ¡°I knew it! You¡¯ve got a crush on her! I found that portrait hidden under your bed!¡±

    Martin¡¯s face flushed. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡± he started, but the words caught in his throat as he felt a mix of embarrassment and admiration watching Lady Effia, flanked by her guards, glide past.

    ¡°Just keep your eyes on your plate, lover boy,¡± Debbie teased, but there was a hint of pride in her smile, perhaps recognizing the significance of the moment.

    As the two friends settled back into their meal, the essence of their world unfolded before them, vibrant and full of possibilities.

 Chapter 12: The New Beginning

    Three days had passed since Martin¡¯s rebirth, and in that time, he had fully absorbed the magical knowledge left by the former Martin. He had also reviewed the information stored in the mind of the hammer, but most of it was irrelevant¡ªlike the previous Martin¡¯s embarrassing infatuation with the city lord¡¯s daughter, Miss Effia, whose portrait he kept hidden under his bed.

    Debbie seemed unfazed by Martin''s sudden disinterest in his dream crush. Despite her petite stature, her boldness was comparable to that of her massive sword. She often laughed off Martin¡¯s secret admiration, recognizing that in Stan City, nearly everyone regarded Effia as an idol. Effia was not only a fifth-order swordsman but also a renowned figure, one whose charm captivated men and women alike. Debbie herself harbored a vague admiration for Effia, understanding why her future husband might secretly idolize her.

    In fact, it was amusing to think that Debbie had her own collection of Effia¡¯s portraits tucked away under her bed.

    As they gazed out the window of their hotel, Martin watched Effia stride through the streets, her confidence and poise evident. He knew she was far beyond his reach now, and the memories left by the hammer had dulled his infatuation. He had developed a certain immunity to the allure of beautiful women, realizing that they often served as mere inspirations rather than attainable goals.

    After spending eight silver coins on a hearty meal at the inn, Martin and Debbie stepped out, both wearing satisfied expressions. As they walked along Stardust Avenue, Debbie eagerly chatted about their future. ¡°The magic scrolls you create are incredible, Martin! If we sell them, we could make a fortune. One scroll can earn us forty copper coins, and with a thousand scrolls, that¡¯s four gold coins! Can you imagine?¡±

    ¡°The sales of magic scrolls have always been hit-or-miss,¡± Martin replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. ¡°Even if I can create them, will people actually buy them?¡±

    ¡°Things are man-made, Martin! We have a hundred gold coins in our hands,¡± Debbie said cheerfully. ¡°Is there anything you want? You¡¯ve worked hard today. Let me treat you!¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Martin was taken aback. ¡°You have a hundred gold coins, but you want to buy me something? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be saving?¡±

    Yet, he couldn¡¯t help feeling a warmth towards Debbie. After three days of companionship, he had grown fond of her, almost viewing her as a family member.

    As they strolled along Stardust Avenue, Martin¡¯s gaze fell upon a shop. ¡°Debbie, let¡¯s buy some magic tomes!¡±

    Nothing fascinated Martin more than magic. He had only mastered five of the thirty-two magic characters, and he was eager to learn the rest. It was like being introduced to a programming language; he was determined to understand every aspect of it. With his newfound abilities, he believed he could create his own spells.

    ¡°Magic tomes? Sure! Let¡¯s go!¡± Debbie exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

    Martin was surprised by her eagerness. Had she become so generous overnight? He chuckled at the thought, recalling how she used to skimp on ingredients for their meals.

    The bookstore they entered was called Kara¡¯s Magic Bookstore, the largest in Stan City, renowned for its collection of magical tomes. As soon as they stepped inside, Martin was captivated by the rows of bookshelves, each filled with volumes on various subjects. The quiet atmosphere suggested that the owner had faith in the integrity of the townsfolk, confident that no one would dare steal from such a reputable establishment.

    As he scanned the shelves, Martin¡¯s attention was drawn to a large book titled "Agendas: Encyclopedia of the World." He pulled it off the shelf without hesitation. The book was hefty, bound in gilded leather, and filled with countless pages detailing the history, culture, geography, and races of the world.

    ¡°An encyclopedia?¡± Debbie asked, her eyes wide. ¡°Aren¡¯t you more interested in magic than history?¡±

    Martin smiled. ¡°I am interested now. Understanding the world will help me with magic.¡±

    Debbie nodded, though she was clearly skeptical about his newfound interest. ¡°Do you want more books?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m heading to the innermost shelf,¡± he replied, pointing toward a secluded area that housed the magic section.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll check out the swordsman biographies over there,¡± she said, grabbing the heavy encyclopedia from Martin¡¯s hands.

    As Martin approached the magic shelf, he was met with a dazzling assortment of titles. He carefully examined the books until two caught his eye: "Intermediate Magic Language" and "Advanced Magic Language." He pulled them from the shelf, dust swirling in the air as he did so.

    Suddenly, he heard footsteps descending the stairs nearby. He turned to see a pair of slender legs making their way down. They were beautifully shaped, exuding a sense of elegance and confidence. But as his gaze traveled upward, he noticed something peculiar¡ªthe legs were green.

    Martin blinked in disbelief as he processed the sight before him.

 Chapter 13: The Cost of Curiosity

    Martin stood outside Kara''s Magic Bookstore, taking in the scene before him. The street was bustling with orcs, a sight he had encountered many times before. However, he noted that the orcs were predominantly male, each towering at least two meters tall, their muscular forms unmistakable. Their fangs, though intimidating, did little to diminish the allure of a female orc descending the steps of the shop.

    As she approached, Martin couldn''t help but admire her figure: long, powerful legs, a slim waist, and a chest that demanded attention. Her clothing was simple¡ªalmost battle-ready¡ªfeaturing a skirt that barely covered her thighs and a top that left little to the imagination. If one could overlook the green hue of her skin, she was, undeniably, striking.

    The female orc revealed herself fully as she reached the bottom of the stairs, biting down on a chicken leg with a primal satisfaction. Her red hair fell messily over her shoulders, giving her an almost wild appearance. Martin couldn''t help but wonder if orcs had a different standard of grooming altogether.

    "Oh, we have guests!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of warmth and curiosity. She pulled the remains of the chicken leg from her mouth, grinning widely, revealing her sharp fangs. "Welcome!"

    "Uh, hello..." Martin stammered, recognizing her now as Kara, the owner of the bookstore. She was known for her beauty among the Fang Tribe¡ªa group of orcs famed for their formidable fangs and strength. He recalled hearing stories about her, but the reality was far more captivating than he had imagined.

    Kara seemed to remember him as well, her eyes glinting with mischief. "What brings you here? I heard you used a magic scroll to take down a fourth-tier swordsman this morning. Impressive! I''ll give you a 10% discount on your purchases today."

    Martin''s mind raced. He had only been in a minor scuffle, but word traveled fast in a small town. He tried to play it cool, but the thought of her discount felt overshadowed by the weight of his prior actions. "I, um, just want these two books," he said, placing them on the counter.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Kara raised an eyebrow, flicking through the pages with a scrutinizing gaze. "Sure you want these? Remember, once you touch them, there''s no going back. The total is ten gold coins."

    Martin blinked, taken aback. A lavish meal at Stan City''s finest restaurant cost only eight silver coins, and now he was being asked to part with ten gold coins for two books? The realization hit him¡ªhe might have made a serious misstep.

    "Ten gold coins?" he repeated, incredulous. "For these?"

    Before he could protest further, Debbie''s voice cut through the confusion. "Martin! What are you doing?" she exclaimed, her tone laced with a mixture of anger and concern. "You can¡¯t just touch the magic tomes! You have to buy them if you do, and they¡¯re ridiculously expensive. Plus, you can¡¯t learn magic without a teacher!"

    Her words struck a chord. Martin''s heart sank as he remembered the intricacies of magic. The tomes might provide some insight, but true understanding came from a master. He felt like a fool for even considering buying them without a plan.

    Kara watched the exchange with a bemused expression, chewing on the remnants of her chicken leg. "So, are you buying or not? The encyclopedia comes free with your purchase of those two tomes."

    Debbie turned to Kara, her eyes wide. "You can¡¯t just give away books like that!"

    Kara smirked, seemingly unfazed. "It''s my store; I can do what I want. So, are you in, or are you going to keep hesitating?"

    Martin felt cornered. The excitement of acquiring knowledge clashed with the reality of his dwindling funds. In the end, he reluctantly agreed to the purchase, handing over nine gold coins for the encyclopedia and the other tomes. As he left the store, his heart heavy with regret over the impulsive decision, he couldn¡¯t help but feel he had been taken advantage of.

    Debbie walked beside him, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You really need to be more careful, Martin. Learning magic isn¡¯t just about reading books. You need guidance, and those tomes won¡¯t help you without a teacher."

    Martin sighed, acknowledging her point. He had made a sizable investment, but he still felt drawn to the challenge of understanding magic on his own terms. He recalled his past as a hacker¡ªself-taught and constantly learning. Perhaps he could apply that same determination to his new endeavor.

    As they walked past a group of children playing nearby, an idea struck him. "Debbie, I''ve got a plan to boost our store''s business..."

    With renewed energy, Martin began to share his thoughts, his mind racing with possibilities.

 Chapter 14: The Mercenarys Bargain

    The Mercenary Guild Hall in Stan City was a striking edifice, its grandeur evident even against the backdrop of the city¡¯s government buildings. Designed to mirror the renowned Mercenary General Union , its architecture had once been the pride of the town. However, recent revelations suggested that its design closely resembled a less celebrated building nearby, diminishing its reputation among the locals.

    Despite this, the Mercenary Guild Hall held a significant place in the heart of Stan City, serving as a central hub for mercenaries across the continent of Aegandas. Here, warriors, priests, and mages reported in regularly to accept and complete missions, with the guild¡¯s operations contributing a substantial portion of the city¡¯s tax revenue.

    As the early morning sun filtered through the hall¡¯s grand windows, a fourth-order swordsman named Damon perused the task board. His brow furrowed in concentration as he struggled with the terminology. Yet, the words ¡°dark forest¡± stood out, and he felt a familiar dread. After twenty years of mercenary work, he understood all too well what those words entailed.

    ¡°Hunt a second-order Lesunx cat in the dark forest and return with the fur, flesh, and blood intact¡­¡± he read aloud, his voice laced with concern.

    The dark forest was infamous¡ªa sprawling wilderness teeming with dangers that even seasoned mercenaries feared. Lesunx cats, known for their cunning and aggression, were particularly troublesome prey.

    "I can''t fathom why a magician needs to study these creatures," Damon muttered, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. "If I¡¯m going into that forest, I¡¯d better gear up. I need some magic scrolls for self-defense and a solid set of armor."

    Just then, a scruffy little boy approached him, clutching a stack of colorful leaflets. Damon felt a flicker of annoyance at the interruption, but curiosity got the better of him.

    "What do you want, kid?" he asked, taking one of the leaflets from the boy¡¯s outstretched hand.

    The flyer was unlike anything he had seen before.

    "Mr. Mercenary, are you ready to save your life while saving money?" it proclaimed in bold, fancy lettering. "Take advantage of our incredible offer at Anthony''s Magic Store! Low-end magic scrolls for just forty-eight copper coins! Fire, lightning, water, levitation, and wind scrolls¡ªeach for an unbeatable price! Plus, buy ten and get one free!"

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Damon couldn''t help but chuckle at the enthusiastic pitch. While he usually purchased scrolls from Morgan¡¯s Magic Store, the price difference was hard to ignore. ¡°Forty-eight copper coins, huh? That beats fifty anywhere else. I can¡¯t let this opportunity slip by.¡±

    Feeling invigorated, Damon glanced at the boy, who beamed with pride after delivering the flyer. He tossed a copper coin to the child, who caught it carefully as Damon made his way toward Anthony¡¯s magic shop.

    Nearby, the boy¡ªJames¡ªgazed at the coin in wonder, his heart racing with excitement. He quickly grabbed another stack of leaflets and approached the next mercenary he spotted.

    Meanwhile, similar scenes unfolded throughout Stan City. Around the Mercenaries Guild, the Swordsmen Guild, and bustling marketplaces, eager children distributed the flyers, each one aiming to entice adventurers with promises of unbeatable discounts. The captivating language on the leaflets inspired many to head toward Anthony¡¯s shop in search of bargains.

    Not long before, Martin had been pondering how to boost the sales of his magic shop. After witnessing Debbie¡¯s frustration over her recent purchases of seemingly useless magical tomes, he was struck by an idea: why not employ flyers to promote his business? It was a simple concept, but no one in their world had attempted such a marketing strategy before.

    Given that magic scrolls were some of the most coveted items in his store, Martin decided to create an engaging flyer highlighting their value. He printed hundreds of copies and enlisted children like James to distribute them in exchange for a copper coin each.

    The results were immediate and exciting. As word spread, customers flocked to Anthony''s Magic Store, eager to take advantage of the discounts.

    Around noon, the sound of the shop¡¯s doorbell jingled, announcing Debbie¡¯s arrival. Her face lit up as she entered and spotted Martin, who was deeply engrossed in a book titled "Intermediate Magic Language."

    ¡°Martin! You won¡¯t believe it! The business is booming! People are coming in left and right!¡± she exclaimed, her energy contagious.

    ¡°That¡¯s great to hear!¡± Martin replied, glancing up from his reading. ¡°I think we¡¯re onto something here.¡±

    Debbie¡¯s smile faltered as she noticed the book in his hands. ¡°But, Martin, Dad always says you need a teacher to learn intermediate or high-level magic. You¡¯re still a second-order magician. Why rush it? Let¡¯s focus on making some real money first.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a bit of reading,¡± Martin insisted, brushing off her concerns. ¡°I¡¯m curious about it.¡±

    Debbie shook her head, but before she could respond, the door jingled again¡ªthis time signaling a customer. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back!¡± she called, rushing to serve the new arrival.

    Martin returned to the pages of his book, but the words began to blur before his eyes. ¡°This is harder than I thought¡­¡± he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

    He knew he had to balance his ambitions with the realities of his current skill level. But with the surge of customers and the thrill of new ideas, he felt a spark of hope for the future of Anthony¡¯s Magic Shop.

 Chapter 15: The Weight of Knowledge----

    The intermediate magical language comprises ten of the thirty-two magical characters, while the remaining seventeen belong to the high-level magical language. Each character harbors a unique meaning that eludes precise verbal explanation; it¡¯s an understanding that can only be grasped through deep perception. The existence of magical language books suggests that, with enough intelligence and insight, a diligent reader might unlock the meanings behind these characters.

    However, this path is fraught with difficulty. Nearly half a month has passed since Martin began studying his magical language tomes, yet he finds himself unable to comprehend the essence of any character.

    The characters themselves are tangible, but their shapes are merely superficial. Without a grasp of their underlying significance, Martin struggles to engrave magical templates into his memory.

    ¡°Don''t you want to find a teacher to teach you the magical language?¡± Debbie¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts, laced with frustration. ¡°You don¡¯t know how much gold you¡¯ll need or how long you¡¯ll have to wait! I have more than 80 gold coins with me!¡±

    Martin sank deeper into his bed, absentmindedly stroking the spine of a hefty book resting against his pillow, titled *Encyclopedia of the Continent*. He had marked his place last night, and now he flipped it open once more.

    His readings over the past few days had offered him a structured understanding of the history of the Continent of Agendas.

    The Continent of Agendas, the only known landmass in this world, boasts a recorded history extending back 15,000 years. Initially, various races populated the continent¡ªthe orcs, giants, dwarves, and other now-extinct races like dragons were the most powerful. Humans struggled in the shadows, often enslaved due to their inherent physical vulnerabilities.

    Approximately 13,000 years ago, a brilliant human discovered how to harness the forces of nature, leading to humanity''s ascension as one of the continent''s dominant powers. This newfound ability was termed magic, and it allowed humans to establish themselves as the prevailing race on Agendas.

    For the next 7,000 years, humans ruled the continent, known as the Ancestors. Initially, their reign was marked by peace, but as time passed, their cruelty manifested, particularly through the dark magic they employed to conjure the demon race¡ªmerciless beings that helped maintain their oppressive rule.

    The rise of demons incited widespread outrage. A coalition formed among the orcs, giants, dwarves, goblins, and even some humans who opposed the Ancestors, igniting a war that lasted two centuries, known as the Battle of the Ancestors.

    During this conflict, the last three dragons of the world fell at the hands of a renowned ¡°Dragon Swordsman.¡± The Ancestors¡¯ princes and nobles were slaughtered, and the remaining Ancestors were exiled to the frigid northern wastelands. Ironically, they constructed a formidable Great Wall in the north, unknowingly sealing their fate. This wall now serves as a barrier to their return, while remnants of their bloodline continue to roam among the wilds beyond.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    The Battle of the Ancestors occurred five millennia ago, yet humans remain the dominant force on the Continent of Agendas, wielding their unique magical talents and differentiating into various roles such as swordsmen, knights, and mages.

    The dwarves, though fewer in number, remain formidable warriors. They occasionally issue warnings to the human Empire but have largely maintained peace. Goblins, with their unique abilities, have also become indispensable, particularly in the operations of the continent''s major banks.

    The giants mysteriously vanished from the continent five years ago, their whereabouts unknown. Meanwhile, elves, the only truly long-lived race, keep their distance from other factions, their empire hidden deep within the forests, accessible only to a select few outsiders.

    Half-orcs, born of the Ancestors¡¯ malevolence, have survived the ancestral war with remarkable resilience, infiltrating the continent and causing mayhem akin to moles in a garden. Some scholars even categorize the undead, who haunt the western tombs, as a significant race in their own right.

    Thus, the races of Agendas today comprise humans, orcs, elves, dwarves, giants, goblins, undead, and demons. As for the savages beyond the Great Wall, even the most diligent scholars tend to overlook them.

    This overview presents a glimpse into the history and diversity of Agendas as detailed in the first volume of the *Encyclopedia*. The subsequent volumes promise a deeper exploration of each race, species, empire, and culture.

    After poring over the introduction to the undead for an extended period, Martin closed the encyclopedia, rubbing his tired eyes. An exhilarating sense of purpose surged within him. ¡°This world is incredible! There¡¯s even a realm for the undead at the continent''s center. But only those with strength can truly appreciate its wonders. I must learn the intermediate and advanced magical languages as swiftly as possible!¡±

    With renewed determination, Martin brushed aside his earlier frustrations. He carefully marked his place in the encyclopedia, rose from his bed, and reopened the *Intermediate Magical Language* tome, intent on diving deeper into its lessons.

    Just as he began to flip through the pages, Debbie''s voice rang out from the door. ¡°I¡¯m starving! When are you going to make lunch?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a minute!¡± Martin called back, momentarily distracted from his studies.

    ---

    Meanwhile, at Anthony''s magic store, a vibrant atmosphere filled the air. Business was thriving, with customers flowing in and out. Martin¡¯s victory over the fourth-order swordsman, Kerry, had bolstered the store¡¯s reputation, and his promotional efforts had significantly increased the sales of magic scrolls. The demand was so high that the thirty scrolls available each day were quickly running low, prompting Debbie to worry about their stock.

    In stark contrast, the Busca Magic Store, located just down the street, was shrouded in gloom.

    Due to Kerry¡¯s severe injuries, Busca had closed his shop, unable to focus on business. Outside, Busca wiped the sweat from his brow, anxious as he inquired of the elderly gentleman emerging from his son''s room. ¡°Mr. Kasmine, is there really no way for my son to regain his strength?¡±

    Kasmine, a fifth-order mage renowned for his healing abilities, shook his head grimly. ¡°He¡¯s sustained damage to his meridians from the swordsman ban and the guardian of war. While I might have some remedies to enhance his innate strength in time, I¡¯m afraid he¡¯ll never recover to his previous level. He may even regress further.¡±

    With that, Kasmine turned and walked away, leaving Busca in despair.

    As the mage strolled down the street, he cast a sidelong glance at Anthony''s magic store, a sardonic smile creeping onto his lips. ¡°A fourth-order swordsman defeated by a second-order mage? What a joke,¡± he muttered under his breath before continuing on his way.

    Meanwhile, Busca¡¯s heart boiled with rage as he absorbed Kasmine¡¯s words.

 Chapter 16: A Dangerous Encounter

    Busca, his round face set in a cold expression, stared at Anthony''s Magic Store with a sense of foreboding. Just as he turned to head back inside, he spotted a familiar figure striding down the street¡ªa strong man clad in armor, an iron sword sheathed at his side, and a traveler''s pack slung over his shoulder.

    ¡°Hey, Ayton!¡± Busca called out, forcing a smile as the mercenary paused and nodded back.

    ¡°Going on another mission?¡± Busca asked, trying to gauge Ayton¡¯s readiness. ¡°I¡¯ve had a few issues at my store lately, but I can make sure you get special treatment as a friend.¡±

    Despite the recent downturn in business, the sight of a potential customer was enticing. After all, magic scrolls were essential for hunters like Ayton, and Busca¡¯s store was one of the few places that offered them.

    Ayton shook his head, a hint of amusement in his expression. ¡°No need to worry about me; I¡¯m all set.¡±

    ¡°All set? With magic scrolls too?¡± Busca raised an eyebrow, surprised.

    Ayton patted his pack. ¡°Just picked up eleven. Should last me through a few missions.¡±

    ¡°From Morgan''s Magic Store on the next street?¡± Busca asked, incredulous. Eleven scrolls at five silver coins each? It didn¡¯t sound right.

    ¡°Who needs to go that far?¡± Ayton chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. ¡°Anthony''s Magic Store has a steady supply now. A scroll costs only forty-eight copper coins, and if you buy ten, you get one free. I¡¯m going to get my scrolls from there from now on.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Busca exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. ¡°How can they have so many scrolls?¡±

    ¡°I heard that a second-order magician is working there. He¡¯s been cranking out thirty scrolls a day. How could they not sell them?¡± Ayton¡¯s tone dripped with sarcasm as he thought of Busca¡¯s son, Kerry, who had been overshadowed by this new talent. The buzz around the magic community had shifted, and people were flocking to Anthony¡¯s store, especially since they were running promotions on their scrolls.

    Ayton threw a final glance at Busca, who was still processing the information, and walked away with a smirk.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Busca¡¯s expression darkened. The realization struck him hard: Martin had produced those hundreds of scrolls himself in just three days. The prospect was both impressive and alarming¡ªproducing thirty magic scrolls a day was no small feat, especially for someone so new to magic. The profit margins from scrolls were significant, and he knew he had to act quickly.

    ---

    ¡°Debbie, I¡¯m heading out,¡± Martin announced as he stepped into the shop from the back yard, clad in a black robe and a pointed hat¡ªtypical attire for a mage.

    Debbie, busy negotiating with two local women over a bulk purchase of magic scrolls, looked up. ¡°Martin, what are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I need to buy more parchment, magic ink, and some quills. I¡¯ve used up everything,¡± Martin replied. He knew he needed to stock up on supplies, and the local magic guild was the only place to get them.

    Debbie frowned, concern etched on her face. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s broad daylight. I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Martin reassured her. Although he had had run-ins with Busca in the past, he felt confident that enough time had passed without further incident.

    Debbie hesitated but eventually nodded. ¡°Just be back soon.¡±

    After she returned to her bargaining, Martin hesitated. ¡°Actually, I might need a bit more money¡­¡±

    Debbie raised an eyebrow, digging into her pocket. ¡°How much?¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­ a bit more than twenty silver coins? I may need to buy other things too.¡±

    ¡°Where else are you going?¡± Debbie¡¯s voice was filled with suspicion.

    The two ladies chimed in, ¡°Don¡¯t be so stingy with him! Maybe he¡¯s going to charm another girl!¡± They laughed, causing Debbie to blush.

    ¡°Just a little extra for supplies,¡± Martin mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed.

    Debbie sighed but finally relented, pulling out a few more coins, leaving him with a total of eleven silver coins. The ladies¡¯ laughter echoed behind him as he turned to leave, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

    As he stepped out into the sunlit street, Martin felt a wave of lightness wash over him. He had been deep in his studies of the intermediate and advanced magical languages, but today felt different. Maybe he was just too anxious, and he needed to take a step back and let things unfold naturally.

    However, as he walked past a two-story building, he suddenly froze. It was called Nixrae, a name that struck a chord deep within him. It was a flower symbolizing romantic connections¡ªhow fitting.

    Laughter spilled from the upper floor, and Martin¡¯s gaze was drawn upward. A woman was at the window, joyfully playing with a group of friends. He couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of envy at their carefree attitude.

    Just then, a carriage pulled up behind him, and the shadow fell over him, snapping him out of his reverie. Instinctively, he reached for the wand at his side, but before he could react, a figure emerged from the carriage, swiftly grabbing him and pulling him inside.

    ¡°Not so fast, Martin,¡± a voice hissed, as the door slammed shut behind him.

    Martin¡¯s heart raced as he realized he was in a precarious situation. What had he gotten himself into?

 Chapter 17: The Price of Creativity

    Dragged into the carriage, Martin barely had time to struggle before a sharp pain in his neck sent him spiraling into unconsciousness. He barely registered the figure of Quinn, who had overpowered him with ease.

    When Martin finally came to, he felt an icy chill against his skin, quickly followed by a cascade of cold water splashing over him. The shock jolted him awake, and instinctively, he sprang to his feet. As a former hacker, he had learned to maintain vigilance even in the darkest of circumstances.

    Yet, just as he stood upright, a blade pressed against his throat. It was Quinn, sword in hand, with Locke looming beside him, a bucket still dripping in his grip. Behind them, the imposing figure of Busca watched with a cold smile.

    "Where am I?" Martin croaked, his hand instinctively moving to his waist, only to find it empty.

    "You¡¯re in a place where no one will find you," Busca replied, his tone icy. He gestured dismissively at Martin''s searching hand. "Don¡¯t bother looking for your wand; I burned it. I also took the twenty silver coins from your pocket. Consider it your first debt."

    Martin''s heart sank as he processed the implications. The loss of his wand was expected, but the mention of a debt caught him off guard. "What debt?" he asked, trying to mask his apprehension.

    Busca gestured toward a cluttered table in the corner of the dimly-lit room. A stack of parchment and a bottle of ink sat there, along with a quill pen, suggesting that his captor had something specific in mind.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    "You¡¯re going to help me create magic scrolls," Busca stated flatly. "I¡¯ve heard you can write hundreds in just a few days. From today onward, you''ll produce thirty scrolls for me daily. As long as you comply, I can guarantee your safety¡ªand Debbie''s."

    Martin''s anger flared at the mention of Debbie. "If you touch her, I swear I¡¯ll make you regret it."

    Busca chuckled, unfazed. "A mage without a wand is hardly a threat. You should remember that. Besides, this is a business arrangement. Once your debts are settled, you can leave."

    "And when will that be?" Martin pressed, though he already suspected the answer.

    "Could be one year, two, or even three¡ªwhenever I¡¯m satisfied," Busca replied, his greed evident in his eyes. He turned to Locke and Quinn, dismissing Martin with a wave. "Keep an eye on him. I want to know every trick he tries to pull."

    As the two swordsmen left the room, Martin felt a wave of despair wash over him. He was trapped in a small, dark space, the air thick with mildew and decay. The makeshift bed was little comfort, and the cluttered table offered no solace. He surveyed the room, noting the dilapidated wooden boxes and the rusted iron armor littering the corners¡ªevidence of neglect in a place that had long been forgotten.

    Realizing the door was locked and guarded by two skilled swordsmen, Martin concluded that escape was impossible for the time being. The only window was a tiny hole meant for ventilation, far too small to provide a means of escape.

    He turned back to the table, his mind racing. Without his wand, he was powerless to cast spells, but he still had his knowledge of magic scrolls. He knew that the basic scrolls he could create wouldn¡¯t be enough to break free from this prison, nor did he have the means to create the powerful scrolls he needed. To do that, he would have to grasp the intermediate and advanced magical languages.

    Martin understood the challenge ahead of him. Learning to harness those languages without a guide seemed daunting, yet Busca had unwittingly provided him with the tools he needed. The parchment, ink, and quill were all there, waiting for his creative touch.

    As he contemplated his situation, a spark of excitement ignited within him. In his previous life as a hacker, he had thrived under pressure, often forced to innovate and adapt in dire circumstances. Each setback had only fueled his resolve to rise higher, and now he found himself in a similar situation¡ªfacing a formidable challenge.

    Quinn and Locke may have seen him as a mere prisoner, but Martin knew he was more than that. The opportunity to outsmart his captors was within his grasp. The stakes were high, but with determination and ingenuity, he could turn the tables.

    He smiled to himself, a plan forming in his mind. This wouldn¡¯t be the end¡ªit would be the beginning of a new chapter in his story.

 Chapter 18: The Art of Creation

    Martin sat hunched over a cluttered table, surrounded by half-finished magic scrolls, each a testament to his relentless experimentation. Suddenly, the parchment beneath his hands erupted in flames, singeing his eyebrows and forcing him to recoil, landing unceremoniously on the floor. As he scrambled to his feet, confusion washed over his face.

    "Why isn¡¯t this working?" he muttered, scratching his head in frustration. "The spell should have absorbed the elemental matrix without issue. Why does it keep exploding?" He glanced at the remnants of the scrolls that littered the floor, evidence of his failed attempts.

    For the past few days, Martin had been trying to create a custom spell, one that doubled the effects of a flame magic scroll. He wasn¡¯t just inscribing the standard matrix; he was attempting to innovate, to build something entirely new. The ambitious endeavor of a second-order mage crafting his own spell was almost unheard of. Most would scoff at the notion, believing such feats to be reserved for high-level mages. But Martin had always been one to challenge the odds.

    ¡°Hey! Are you done wasting my scrolls?¡± Quinn¡¯s voice shot through the door, laced with irritation. ¡°You¡¯ve ruined a dozen sheets in just two days! Do you think this stuff grows on trees?¡±

    Martin rolled his eyes, barely able to suppress a grin. ¡°Then come write thirty scrolls a day if it¡¯s so easy! I¡¯m not playing here, Quinn. If you want results, you have to invest in the process¡ªjust ask Busca!¡±

    Quinn fell silent, perhaps contemplating the futility of arguing with someone who was obviously too absorbed in his work. Martin returned to his parchment, determined to figure out what was wrong with his spell matrix.

    It had been three days since he¡¯d been confined to this dim little room, a makeshift workspace that felt more like a prison. Busca had tasked him with producing thirty magic scrolls each day, a seemingly impossible quota. Initially, Martin had managed to complete a scroll in twenty minutes, but as frustration mounted, he found himself reducing that time to fifteen. Yet, despite the increased speed, he faced an alarming number of failures.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    After yet another scroll met its fiery end, Martin sighed and stepped over to a small basin of water. He splashed some cool water on his face, hoping to clear his mind. As he gazed into the water, something clicked. The droplets created ripples, distorting his reflection.

    A flash of insight struck him. ¡°I¡¯m doubling the elemental absorption matrix, but I¡¯m missing a catalyst to harmonize the two elements! It¡¯s like trying to merge two images; no matter how I align them, they won¡¯t blend without something to unify them.¡±

    Martin¡¯s excitement grew as he realized he might have been overlooking a key component. He recalled a magic character from his intermediate studies, one that facilitated elemental coordination. If he could successfully incorporate this character into his matrix, perhaps the scroll wouldn¡¯t fail.

    With renewed determination, he reached for a fresh piece of parchment and began inscribing the complex symbols, carefully adding the catalyst into the mix. As he worked, he could feel the potential of the spell building within him; each stroke of his quill felt more assured than the last.

    Time slipped away as he lost himself in the process. Eventually, the scroll¡¯s depiction exceeded his earlier efforts. ¡°This has to work,¡± he whispered to himself, heart racing.

    But just as he felt confident in his creation, a sudden explosion erupted from beneath his hands, sending him sprawling backward. Flames danced wildly, searing the air, and once again, he felt the sting of heat on his skin. But instead of despair, a laugh escaped his lips. The singed parchment and the soot on his face only added to the absurdity of the situation, making him look comically disheveled.

    ¡°Okay, back to the drawing board,¡± he chuckled, wiping away soot and staring at the remnants of his latest attempt. ¡°There¡¯s still something wrong, but I¡¯m on the right path.¡±

    Determined, Martin resolved to incorporate additional magic characters into his spell matrix, continuing to learn through trial and error. Each failure brought him closer to understanding the intricate world of magic.

    Grinning, he called out to Quinn, ¡°Hey! Tell Busca that I need more parchment and two more bottles of magic ink! I¡¯m onto something big!¡±

    Quinn¡¯s silence was palpable. ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± was all he could muster in response.

    But for Martin, the thrill of creation overshadowed any frustration. He was on the brink of discovery, and nothing could quell his excitement.

 Chapter 19: The Spark of Innovation

    Martin had stumbled upon a method to comprehend magical characters, albeit a rudimentary one. While spells and programming appeared vastly different, he found a surprising connection. To a peak hacker like him, the logic behind magical characters bore a striking resemblance to the relationships between code and the viruses he had encountered in his previous life.

    He had successfully mastered five of the thirty-two magical characters, enabling him to craft a variety of basic spells. However, to delve into more advanced spells, he would need higher-level magical characters. Without them, any spell he attempted would falter, akin to a broken program. Understanding the meanings behind these characters was a knowledge gleaned from practice¡ªa practice that often resulted in failures.

    Fortunately, Martin had never shied away from failure.

    Creating a few magical scrolls from copper sheets wasn¡¯t a concern for him. Given the overall benefits, Busca wouldn¡¯t mind Martin using some of their limited supplies. After all, he was technically a prisoner. If Busca couldn¡¯t tolerate a few scrolls being wasted, he could simply tear them up.

    But Busca wasn¡¯t willing to waste those scrolls. The output of thirty magical scrolls a day was a precious income for him. Even when Quinn had informed him about the unfortunate incident of several scrolls being used as toilet paper, Busca chose to remain silent. Instead, he graciously brought Martin a few scrolls bought from the big business bank during his next visit.

    After being imprisoned for a week, Busca finally decided to confront Martin.

    "It seems you¡¯ve made quite the impression on Debbie," he remarked, his voice laced with annoyance. "She¡¯s been causing chaos in my magic store. If this continues, I might just have to deal with her myself. You understand how much she¡¯s disrupting business, right?" He glared through the iron bars at Martin, his expression darkening. "So, I hope you grasp how foul my mood is."

    Martin remained silent, observing the overweight figure on the other side of the gate. After a moment, he turned and returned to the desk beside him, scribbling a note in magical ink on a piece of parchment. He then slid it through the vent in the iron door. ¡°Give this to her. I think it¡¯ll stop her from causing more trouble.¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Busca hesitated before carefully examining the scroll. He unfolded it and read the letter addressed to Debbie.

    "Debbie, I¡¯ve encountered a mage who has accepted me as his apprentice. I must leave immediately to maintain peace in the world. I don¡¯t have time to explain, but trust that I¡¯ll be fine. Soon, I¡¯ll return as a mage. ¨C Your love, Martin."

    After reading the letter multiple times, Busca convinced himself there was no hidden message. He folded the parchment and tucked it away. "I¡¯ll be sure to keep her away, as long as she doesn¡¯t come looking for me," he sneered before turning to leave, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And by the way, using a scroll for a letter? You do realize those cost money, right?"

    With a loud clang, the vent slammed shut.

    Martin clenched his fists in frustration, pacing the dimly lit room. He imagined Debbie''s reaction upon discovering he was gone¡ªhow furious she would be, wielding her massive sword in search of Busca. But despite her fierce exterior, Martin knew she was just a lonely girl, likely worried sick about him. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder how she was coping without him, if she had been eating properly or if she had been crying for him.

    Debbie was his only family in this world. Their bond, forged through shared hardship, was more potent than mere blood. Martin¡¯s concern for her well-being ignited a fierce anger within him, a fire that he struggled to suppress. He needed to remain calm and think clearly.

    "I¡¯ve learned three magic characters in the past few days, but it¡¯s not enough. Even if I manage to create an intermediate high-level magical scroll, I can¡¯t face two second-order swordsmen in this confined space. My chance to escape is limited."

    Martin sat down on the cold, hard floor, brainstorming potential solutions. The letter he had written to Debbie had sparked an idea, drawing inspiration from the films he had watched in his previous life. While those movies were fictional, they often contained insights that could be applied to real-life situations. What if the protagonist in one of those films were imprisoned like him?

    Suddenly, a glimmer of inspiration illuminated his mind like a firefly in the dark. He looked around the warehouse, taking note of the piles of discarded materials: broken porcelain bottles, rusty armor, and boxes filled with forgotten remnants. Days earlier, he had rummaged through this mess and found a piece of hide covered in insect eyes.

    Then he recalled a movie he had seen before¡ª**Iron Man**. The protagonist, captured by terrorists, had built a suit of armor from scrap metal to escape. Though such technology was impossible in this world, the concept of using available resources to create something powerful resonated with him.

    In this magical realm, spells had a unique interoperability with programming. Perhaps he could adapt that idea to create something extraordinary.

    Martin¡¯s eyes sparkled with determination as he surveyed the assortment of junk in the corner of the warehouse. A smile crept across his face, filled with newfound hope.

    "Iron Man, here I come," he whispered to himself, ready to turn improbable dreams into reality.

 Chapter 20: The Unraveling Threads

    In the past few days, passersby often spotted Debbie sitting on the steps of Anthony''s magical store, her small frame slumped in a daze. The innocence of her youthful face occasionally gave way to a look of deep concern as her eyes fixed on the street across, as if waiting for someone to appear.

    "Has Martin not returned yet? Poor thing," a woman whispered to her companion, glancing at Debbie with pity. "Where could he have gone?"

    "Don''t you get it?" the man replied, lowering his voice as they walked past. "I heard he was taken by Busca. With Martin''s character, what kind of mage would even want him as an apprentice? It¡¯s all too suspicious."

    "True. I''ve heard that Busca''s magic shop has been selling scrolls like mad lately. Something''s definitely off," the woman murmured, shaking her head. "And poor Debbie, just sitting here like this. It''s been three months since Martin disappeared!"

    "Three months? That''s nothing. If Busca really did something to Martin, the city guard wouldn''t lift a finger. They only care about important matters," the man replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "Maybe he¡¯ll come back eventually. Word is Busca plans to release the hammer soon."

    Their conversation faded into the distance, leaving Debbie alone with her thoughts and the giant sword cradled in her arms. She felt the weight of her worries pressing down on her as she pulled out an old scroll from her pocket. The paper was wrinkled but preserved well, a handwritten letter from Skar that had somehow landed on the counter of the magic shop. Debbie didn''t realize it had been sent by Busca; she simply recognized the familiar script, having read it countless times.

    Her emotions had transformed since the first time she received it¡ªfrom anger to doubt, then worry, and now a flicker of hope. How could her clumsy Martin possibly be valued by a mage? The thought seemed absurd. Yet, in this moment of uncertainty, she could do nothing but wait.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    "Martin, where are you? Please come back soon," she whispered to the empty street.

    ---

    Meanwhile, Martin was preparing for what lay ahead.

    It was nearing noon when Busca and his son, Kerry, stepped out of the city in their carriage, heading toward the Tashan Hills on the outskirts of Stan. The hills were known for their tranquility, devoid of dangerous creatures, and had become a favored spot for those seeking a quiet retreat.

    Years prior, Busca had dabbled in hunting and had a hidden warehouse in the hills. Martin had surmised that this was where he was being kept. The only source of fresh air came through small vents, barely large enough for a fist, but he could hear birds singing and see leaves fluttering from the outside. He had assumed he was in a wooded area, though he never expected it would be in the mountains.

    The carriage halted at the foot of a hill, and Busca stepped out, scanning the surroundings with a cautious eye before entering the nearby jungle. Kerry followed suit, tethering the reins to a sturdy tree. He had changed significantly over the past three months; the physical wounds from magical experiments had healed, but the fire scars remained, a constant reminder of his failure. Once a proud guard, he now wore the tattered armor of a dismissed city soldier, weighed down by shame and resentment.

    Every visit to this hidden place ignited a smoldering anger within him. He clenched the hilt of his sword, vowing that if he ever faced the magician who had humiliated him, he would emerge victorious.

    "Boss, you''re here!" A voice called from deeper in the jungle. Locke, a worker who assisted Busca, emerged from a small wooden house, a look of eagerness on his face. "How''s the kid been doing these past few days?"

    "Same as always," Busca replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Just bring me the completed magic scrolls."

    Locke nodded and rushed inside, calling for Quinn to fetch the scrolls. The wooden house led to a staircase descending into darkness, where Martin was kept. Quinn, a burly man with a scarred face, lounged outside the warehouse, nursing a bottle of cheap wine. He grunted in annoyance as Locke entered.

    "Get the finished scrolls out here!" Quinn barked, his voice echoing off the wooden walls. When silence met his demand, he scowled and kicked the door to the warehouse. "Don''t make me come in there!"

    The room was stagnant and suffocating, filled with the stale air of confinement. Quinn pushed the door open, his sword drawn, and stepped inside, scanning the dim space for any sign of Martin. The bed and table were untouched, and the faint glow of a magical light barely illuminated the corners.

    "Where are you, boy? Stop hiding!" he shouted, his voice tinged with irritation. "I know you''re in here!"

    His heart raced as he peered beneath the bed and behind the scattered debris. Just as despair began to creep in, he noticed something peculiar: an old, rusty suit of armor that had never drawn his attention before was now standing upright.

    Quinn''s breath caught in his throat as he realized the armor wasn''t just a relic; it was a distraction. Something was amiss, and he was about to discover just how far Martin had come in his quest for freedom.

 Chapter 21: The Flames of Reckoning

    The heavy armor lay forgotten in the corner of the storage room, a relic of Kerry¡¯s past. Made of basic black iron, it was designed to encase the entire body, its weight a cumbersome 20 pounds. Kerry had only worn it for a few months before pleading with his father for something lighter and more aesthetically pleasing¡ªa white iron armor that fit him better. Now, this old suit was nearly worthless, rusting away in the warehouse, its value reduced to mere copper coins, barely stronger than scrap metal. Even Busca, who had been tasked with cleaning the storage, had left the helmet untouched, allowing it to gather dust.

    The armor was hardly functional; its joints creaked and groaned, and it was ill-suited for a frail magician. Yet, unexpectedly, it began to move, drawing a startled look from Quinn.

    Inside the rusted armor stood Martin, struggling to fit into the oversized shell. The armor was grotesquely adorned with tattered animal skins that were riddled with wormholes, giving it an absurd appearance, almost as if a jester had donned it for a performance. The thin strips of fabric barely held the armor together, and the porcelain bottle strapped to his arm added to the ridiculousness of his ensemble.

    Quinn, momentarily taken aback, quickly masked his surprise with a smirk. He pointed his sword at Martin, who was struggling to maintain his balance. "Really? You think you can fight me in that hunk of scrap metal?" he taunted.

    Martin¡¯s voice echoed from within the armor, muffled yet resolute. "I¡¯d appreciate it if you kept the taunts to a minimum. Right now, I¡¯m just trying not to suffocate in this thing." He took a deep breath, feeling the heat build up inside. "Let¡¯s skip the pleasantries and get on with it."

    Quinn chuckled, confidence swelling within him as he prepared to charge. He underestimated Martin, viewing him as nothing more than a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. With a swift motion, he lunged forward, blade at the ready.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    In that split second, Martin activated the mechanism he had devised. He flexed his little finger, igniting the porcelain bottle strapped to his arm.

    Flames erupted instantly, engulfing Quinn in a fiery embrace. The intense heat washed over him, catching his clothes ablaze and turning his skin a bright crimson. The air filled with the acrid scent of burning fabric and flesh as he shrieked in agony, his hair and beard turning to ash in moments.

    Quinn staggered back, panic flooding his senses. He attempted to wield his sword against Martin, a desperate and futile gesture as he fought against the flames consuming him.

    The fire was no ordinary flame; it was a newly crafted spell Martin had spent weeks developing, one far more potent than anything Quinn had anticipated. In the confined space of the storage room, the flames swelled, scorching everything in their path. Martin''s finger moved again, activating a second scroll within the bottle. The flames erupted once more, intensifying the inferno that engulfed Quinn.

    "Stop! Please!" Quinn gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate as he flailed about, but Martin was relentless. The flames danced around him, a manifestation of his anger and frustration at being underestimated.

    With one final flick of his fingers, Martin unleashed the third scroll. The room was now a furnace, and the heat was unbearable. Quinn''s screams echoed off the walls, punctuated by the crackling flames that consumed him.

    As the fire died down, Martin stepped forward, his heart pounding. He approached the charred remains of Quinn, who lay motionless and blackened, the once gleaming sword now a twisted, glowing red piece of metal.

    Martin hesitated for a moment, contemplating the life that had just ended. But he was not here for mercy; he was here for survival. He reached down and retrieved the now molten sword, knowing it was a trophy of his victory, but also a reminder of the lengths he had to go to protect himself.

    With urgency, he moved toward the doorway just as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from above. Locke was on his way down, alerted by the commotion. Martin needed to leave before anyone else arrived to witness the aftermath of his desperate struggle.

    As he stepped out of the room, still encased in the heavy armor, he couldn''t help but feel a mixture of triumph and dread. He had survived, but at what cost? The weight of the armor felt heavier than ever as he disappeared into the shadows, aware that this was only the beginning of the challenges ahead.

 Chapter 22: The Thunderous Escape

    ¡°Quin! Quinn! What happened!?¡±

    The sound of rushing footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor as Locke shouted. Martin stood at the door of the cell, gripping a long red sword. His stance was unusual¡ªfeet staggered, knees slightly bent, and chest thrust forward, as if bracing for an imminent impact.

    He was indeed preparing to withstand a considerable force.

    Silently counting the seconds, Martin awaited Locke''s arrival at the ramp ahead. His left pinky began to twitch ever so slightly.

    The five fingers of his right hand were connected to a series of parchment-twisted leads that linked to the flame reel secured in a compartment on his right arm. Similarly, his left hand was linked to another set of twisted leads, which connected to a sheepskin pouch strapped to his chest.

    Inside that pouch lay two lightning magic scrolls.

    As Locke finally appeared, sword drawn and wary, he immediately adopted a defensive posture upon spotting Martin. The tall, armored figure was unexpected, and the sight raised his instincts to alert.

    Unfortunately for Locke, his vigilance was futile.

    With a quick flick of his left pinky, Martin activated the scrolls. Lightning surged through the sheepskin pouch and into his armor, creating a blinding flash that illuminated the cramped cell and the ramp outside.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Locke¡¯s face contorted with shock and fear, but his cry was swallowed by a deafening clap of thunder. In the next instant, a bolt of lightning erupted from Martin, striking Locke with catastrophic force.

    The impact was as if Martin had slammed an electrified fist into Locke¡¯s chest, sending him crashing against the wall of the ramp. The sheer power of the lightning coursed through the armored man, breaking bones and creating a cacophony of sound that reverberated in the claustrophobic space.

    Dust rained down from the ceiling as Locke¡¯s body crumpled to the ground, smoke rising from his charred armor. The man was rendered unconscious, possibly dead.

    Martin felt the numbing shock of the current even through the layers of his own armor. He gasped for breath, shaking off the residual effects of the spell as he surveyed the scene before him. Locke lay sprawled on the ground, the acrid smell of burnt metal and flesh filling the air.

    Shaking off the disorientation, Martin staggered out of the cell and peered down the ramp, which stretched long and foreboding before him, lit by flickering magical lights along the walls.

    At the center of the ramp, Busca stood, his expression frozen in horror at the sight he had just witnessed¡ªthe destruction of his comrade. The shock rendered him nearly immobile.

    But survival instincts kicked in, and Busca turned to flee toward the exit.

    Martin, clad in heavy armor, knew he couldn''t catch him in a sprint. Instead, he raised his left arm, aiming a strange bottle-like device at Busca. Still gripping the red sword in his right hand, he leaned against the wall for balance and pulled a thin line connected to the bottle.

    As he yanked the line, it triggered a magic scroll inside the bottle.

    The ensuing gust of wind erupted violently, causing the porcelain bottle to shatter in a loud explosion. The force released a projectile that shot forth like a cannonball, propelled by the whirlwind spell.

    Martin had created a makeshift cannon.

    The projectile hurtled through the air, aimed directly at Busca, who was sprinting for his life.

    ¡°Not today,¡± Martin muttered under his breath, determined that the chaos wouldn¡¯t end with Locke alone.

 Chapter 23: The Flames of Confrontation

    For the first time in this magical world, Martin found himself holding a small bottle wrapped in animal skin, containing several pieces of paper meant to maintain balance. It felt surreal, yet this small artifact was pivotal to his survival.

    In the past three months, he had rummaged through piles of debris in his cell, utilizing everything he could find. Luck was on his side when he discovered a splendid piece of hide among the tattered scraps¡ªa bottle of healing ointment. Unfortunately, the contents had dried up and rotted away, but the bottle itself remained intact, suitable for his purposes.

    Nestled within the bottle was a four-fold flame magic scroll. Among the five magic scrolls Martin had mastered, the lightning scroll was the most destructive, but the fire scroll held the potential for even greater devastation when controlled correctly. A sudden burst of flame in a confined space could create an explosive force, akin to gunpowder igniting in a cannon.

    Carefully, Martin placed the flame scroll into the porcelain bottle, adding broken ceramic shards for added impact, then sealed it tightly, leaving only a thin wire exposed. This wire was tied to his wrist; when the bottle was ignited, it would trigger the scroll within. Martin had spent countless hours perfecting this technique, knowing that even the smallest mistake could lead to disaster.

    With a quick breath, he aimed the makeshift explosive at Busca, who was struggling to ascend the stairs, his bulky frame reflecting sheer disbelief. The bottle flew through the air, gaining momentum, and, in an instant, it crashed to the ground just two meters in front of Busca.

    A deafening explosion erupted, sending shards flying in all directions. The flames illuminated the dim corridor, and even from a distance, Martin could see Busca''s shocked expression morph into one of pain as the ceramic shards struck him.

    As the smoke began to clear, Martin noticed Busca on the ground, bloodied and battered but still alive. The initial satisfaction of the explosion quickly faded as Martin realized the damage was not as severe as he had hoped. He clenched his jaw; he needed to act fast.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Martin drew his sword and sprinted towards the stairs. Though Busca was slow to recover, Martin¡¯s armor weighed him down, making his ascent cumbersome. By the time he reached the top, Busca had already retreated into the passage, his frantic calls echoing behind him.

    ¡°Kerry! Kerry, where are you? Help me!¡±

    ¡°Father!¡± Kerry¡¯s voice trembled with fear. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°There''s a monster down there!¡± Busca yelled, his voice hoarse. ¡°No, it¡¯s not a monster¡­ It¡¯s the hammerhead! He¡¯s got a hammer! Kerry, you have to help me take him down!¡±

    ¡°Quinn and Locke?¡± Kerry asked, her voice wavering.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where Quinn is, but Locke is dead! That kid is dangerous!¡± Busca¡¯s panic was palpable, yet he struggled to regain his composure. ¡°But don¡¯t be scared, Kerry. Just listen to me¡­¡±

    The conversation faded as Martin realized that he was facing not just Busca but also his daughter. He knew she would be waiting at the exit, hands ready to strike. He couldn¡¯t risk exposing himself.

    Instead, he turned back and made his way to the spot where Locke lay lifeless, retrieving a wooden box filled with magic scrolls. The weight of the box strained his muscles, but he pressed on, breathless from exertion and the oppressive heat surrounding him.

    Once he set the box down on the stairs, he fished out a scroll, tearing it open before hurling it up the stairs. A brilliant flash of lightning shot forth, illuminating the room and drawing a scream from Busca.

    A smirk crept onto Martin''s face as he repeated the process, throwing up scroll after scroll¡ªfire, lightning, wind, earth, and water.

    Chaos erupted above as the spells collided, igniting the wooden structure and sending smoke curling downwards. The flames licked hungrily at the walls, while the wind intensified the blaze. The sound of cracking wood and the scent of burning debris filled the air, signaling the imminent collapse of Busca¡¯s refuge.

    Martin knew he had to seize this moment. He could feel the panic rising among Busca and Kerry as they scrambled to escape the onslaught of magic. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next phase of his plan.

    He began to climb up through the thickening smoke, knowing full well that as soon as he breached the surface, he would unleash his next deadly trick. Time was running short, and the battle was far from over.

 Chapter 24: Descent into Chaos

    The wooden house was engulfed in flames, smoke billowing into the sky like a dark omen. Dust swirled in the air, stirred by the remnants of a recently deployed dust scroll. The structure, made of aged timber and thatched grass, was on the verge of collapse. Inside, the heat was unbearable, a furnace of destruction.

    Busca sat unsteadily on a wooden stake, his once-golden robes now tattered and scorched by the blast from artillery shells. His face was etched with discomfort and anger, the remnants of his dignity stripped away.

    Kerry, his son, stood nearby, terror etched across his face. Clutching his sword with trembling hands, he couldn''t suppress his anxiety. "Father, is that really Martin in the armor?" he stammered, eyes wide.

    ¡°Of course it is! Who else would it be?¡± Busca snapped, frustration bubbling beneath his calm facade.

    Quin and Locke were preoccupied with the chaos outside, focused on controlling the blaze that had been ignited by Martin''s scroll they had just used. Busca hoped that the roaring flames would block the exit, sealing off any escape routes.

    His hope was dashed moments later when a figure emerged from the smoke-filled cabin.

    The figure, clad in heavy armor wrapped in layers of animal skin, struggled against the heat and smoke. Despite the oppressive conditions, Martin pressed on, his determination unwavering. The heat was suffocating, but the armor he wore offered a surprising degree of protection against the flames.

    With a flick of his left ring finger, Martin activated a delicate parchment inscribed with intricate magical symbols. This parchment, a conduit for his magic, connected him to a wind sac¡ªa device crafted from the hide of a wild boar and designed to propel him skyward.

    As he activated the magic, the wind sac inflated dramatically, creating a powerful gust that filled the air. The sudden rush of wind intensified the fire, sending burning debris flying and causing the already fragile structure to tremble.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Martin felt the recoil as the wind propelled him forward, pushing him toward the edge of the wooden house. The moment was chaotic; he had never performed such a maneuver before, and the unfamiliarity made him cautious. But with adrenaline coursing through his veins, he found his balance and pressed on.

    The wind sac, powered by a scroll of mad wind magic, surged with energy. This was no ordinary spell; it was four times more potent than the typical mad wind scroll. The air around him roared as he pushed through the burning cabin.

    But this surge of power was fleeting. He needed to act quickly. He reached the wall of the wooden house, which was crumbling under the weight of the flames. With no time to spare, he braced himself and smashed through the charred wood, propelled by the wind sac''s force.

    In an explosive moment, Martin burst through the flames and into the open air. It wasn''t flying as much as it was being launched¡ªan impressive leap that sent him soaring above the chaos below.

    To Busca and Kerry, it was a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying. From their vantage point, they watched as the armored figure ascended from the inferno, a silhouette against the backdrop of destruction. The moment was surreal, a blend of danger and beauty that felt almost otherworldly.

    ¡°Father, he... he can¡¯t be human,¡± Kerry gasped, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. The height and power displayed were beyond the capabilities of a mere swordsman.

    If Martin had heard his words, he would have chuckled, confident in the knowledge that magic and intellect were his true strengths. But at that moment, he was consumed by his own thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m airborne! I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m actually flying!¡± Panic began to set in as he realized he was in free fall, the wind sac''s energy waning.

    He spotted Kerry below, standing frozen in shock, and instinctively pointed the sword downward. In a final act of desperation, he activated the third wind scroll just before gravity took hold.

    The wind sac surged again, but this time it propelled him downward with alarming speed. The sword, aimed directly at Kerry, became an extension of his fall.

    The impact was inevitable. The blade pierced through Kerry¡¯s chest with a sickening ease, the force of Martin''s descent rendering the young man defenseless against the onslaught.

    Kerry''s armor, battered and weakened from previous battles, crumpled under the assault, and the world shifted into chaos. In that moment, the flames roared behind them, a fitting backdrop to the tragedy that unfolded, sending shockwaves through the fabric of their lives.

 Chapter 25: The Final Confrontation

    Martin slammed into the ground, the impact reverberating through his armored legs, sending a jolt of numbness up to his hips. Despite the thick padding of leather and steel, the force of the fall left him feeling as if something had broken inside.

    Yet, amid the pain, his stance was striking. He gripped his longsword with determination, the blade piercing through Kerry''s chest and emerging from his back, anchoring him to the earth.

    As the last leaves of autumn fluttered down, it was clear that Kerry, despite his dire situation, could have made a desperate last stand. He could have lifted his sword against Martin, but shock rendered him motionless. In the moments before his life faded, disbelief etched across his face, he managed to utter a few broken syllables, a plea forever lost to the silence around them.

    Martin, his breath heavy and labored within the confines of his armor, finally released the hilt of his sword, taking a moment to gather himself. He turned his gaze toward Busca, who sat trembling against a nearby tree, shock etched across his features.

    "He''s dead," Martin said, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. He moved closer to Busca, each step weighed down by the heavy armor. He could feel the dampness of sweat pooling beneath the metal, the heat suffocating.

    Busca''s eyes widened in horror, his voice barely a whisper. "You... who are you?"

    "I?" Martin paused, relishing the moment. The tension in the air was palpable, and he took a deep breath, forcing a smile beneath his helmet. "I¡¯m Martin, the second mage of Anthony''s magical store. They call me the useless mage. But today, I¡¯m something else entirely."

    He slowly unfastened his helmet, pulling it off with a clang. The fresh air hit his face like a cool breeze, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat inside. Busca''s gaze faltered, horror turning to confusion.

    "I¡¯m a hacker," Martin continued, leaning closer. "Not the kind you''re familiar with. In my world, hackers manipulate the systems around them. And right now, you''re part of my system."

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Martin''s voice dripped with mockery as he approached Busca, who instinctively recoiled, fear widening his eyes. "Please, I can give you anything! Wealth, power... just let me go!"

    Martin chuckled, shaking his head. "You think wealth can save you? I¡¯ve been through hell and back in this world. You don''t understand the pain I''ve endured. But don¡¯t worry; I¡¯m not here for your gold."

    With a swift motion, he positioned his hands on Busca''s head, feeling the fear radiating from him. The moment was surreal, a blend of triumph and something darker. He felt powerful, a king over his domain.

    "Now, let¡¯s have some fun."

    Martin activated a series of magical scrolls linked to his armor. The power surged through him, electric currents crackling as they coursed through the metal and out towards Busca. The air thickened with tension, an ominous hum buzzing around them.

    Bright blue arcs of lightning burst forth, dancing across Martin¡¯s armor and lashing out at Busca. The man¡¯s body convulsed violently, his hair standing on end as the electricity coursed through him. The smell of singed hair filled the air, and Martin grimaced at the discomfort that surged through him, too.

    ¡°Ugh, this tingles!¡± he exclaimed, the thrill of power coursing through him almost intoxicating.

    As the last of the energy dissipated, Busca collapsed, his body lifeless in a heap of smoke and charred flesh. Martin stood over him, panting heavily, feeling both exhilarated and drained.

    "That was... too easy," Martin muttered, glancing down at the remains of Busca. He took a moment to collect himself, looking around to ensure he was alone in the clearing.

    With labored effort, he began to peel off the heavy armor, the weight of it pressing down on him like a burden he was desperate to shed. After several exhausting minutes, he finally freed himself, relishing the cool air against his skin.

    As he rummaged through Busca¡¯s belongings, searching for anything of value, he frowned in disappointment. "Nothing?" he muttered, frustration creeping in. The man had boasted of his riches, but all Martin found was a few coins and a tattered map.

    His eyes landed on a ring glinting on Busca¡¯s finger. "Now, what do we have here?" He knocked it off, examining it closely. Before he could inspect it further, a loud voice boomed from behind him.

    "What happened here?"

    Martin turned sharply, heart racing as he faced a towering orc warrior, muscles rippling beneath his leather armor. The orc¡¯s eyes were narrowed, scanning the scene of destruction with suspicion.

    ¡°Just a little business transaction,¡± Martin replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline rushing through him.

    The orc took a step forward, assessing the situation. ¡°And you are?¡±

    ¡°Just a humble mage,¡± Martin said, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. ¡°Care to join me for a chat?¡±

 Chapter 26: The Orc Warriors Revelation

    Martin¡¯s heart raced as he caught sight of a towering figure¡ªan orc warrior clad in steel armor, his green skin glistening in the dim light. The creature stood two meters tall, fangs protruding from its menacing face. Instinctively, Martin let out a startled, ¡°What the¡ª!¡±

    ¡°What the?¡± the orc echoed in a gravelly voice, the absurdity of the situation momentarily breaking the tension. ¡°I don¡¯t call it that; my name is Asor.¡±

    Martin blinked, momentarily speechless.

    Asor surveyed the scene, his expression shifting as he noticed the lifeless body of Kerry sprawled on the ground, then turned his gaze to the charred remains of Busca nearby. ¡°Who are you? Did you kill these two? How did Kerry end up like this?¡±

    Martin¡¯s heart sank. Could this orc be affiliated with Busca? The brute¡¯s imposing presence suggested a level of strength that made Martin feel vulnerable. Even with his magical armor, he doubted he could stand against this warrior in a fair fight.

    However, Asor showed no interest in Martin¡¯s defensive stance. Instead, he approached Kerry, kneeling beside the fallen swordsman. Martin¡¯s instincts kicked in, and he discreetly slipped the ring he had taken from Busca into the pocket of his magical robe.

    Asor examined Kerry¡¯s body closely. ¡°The wound is severe,¡± he muttered. ¡°It looks like a powerful sword struck him from above, piercing his armor and pinning him to the ground. Judging by the direction of the wound and the footprints, it appears there was no elaborate attack. Kerry didn¡¯t even try to dodge. Maybe he was too frightened to react.¡±

    Asor¡¯s assessment struck a nerve. Martin felt a mix of dread and relief¡ªthis orc seemed to have a keen eye for detail.

    Asor then turned his attention to Busca, who lay charred and lifeless. ¡°He was electrocuted,¡± Asor noted, his brow furrowing. ¡°This isn¡¯t the effect of a typical lightning scroll; it resembles the intermediate attack spell, [Lightning Strike].¡± He glanced back at Martin, his expression sharp. ¡°So, who killed them?¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Martin couldn¡¯t help but feel a dark amusement at the thought of Asor not realizing it was him who had dealt the fatal blows. But as a wise mage, he opted for a more low-key approach. ¡°I don¡¯t know that person¡­ just some armored figure who moved like the wind. He mentioned his name was Steel¡­¡±

    His mind raced, searching for the right term. The language barrier made it difficult to convey ¡°Iron Man.¡± He needed something that would resonate within this world.

    ¡°...Swordsman,¡± he finished, settling on a term that felt appropriate.

    ¡°Steel Swordsman?¡± Asor¡¯s brows knitted together. ¡°Is he a senior swordsman?¡±

    Martin raised an eyebrow, surprised that Asor seemed to equate the name with a level of skill.

    ¡°He¡¯s the only one around here who would carry such a title,¡± Asor explained, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. ¡°Only senior swordsmen earn nicknames. If he¡¯s a swordsman and can cast spells, he must be quite powerful.¡±

    Martin nodded, pretending to bask in the praise while his mind wandered to the potential of creating more powerful armor. He recalled hearing that some armors could be enchanted with magical arrays. Could he replicate something akin to the Iron Man armor from his memories?

    Asor¡¯s gaze shifted back to Martin, his expression turning serious. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Did that fool Kerry try to abduct you?¡±

    Martin assessed the orc carefully, realizing he was likely not an ally of Kerry or Busca. ¡°I¡¯m Martin, a mage,¡± he replied.

    ¡°You¡¯re the mage who defeated Kerry?!¡±

    Asor¡¯s sudden enthusiasm caught Martin off guard. The orc¡¯s face lit up with excitement. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to be the one who took him down! Kerry was a disgrace to the city guards. After you defeated him, we were ready to celebrate his downfall.¡±

    Martin felt an unexpected sense of pride mixed with confusion. He hadn¡¯t realized he was gaining notoriety.

    But Asor¡¯s expression shifted again, turning grave. ¡°Wait. You look like you¡¯ve been imprisoned. Did Busca and Kerry force you to create magic scrolls for them?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Martin confirmed, his heart racing. ¡°But now that they¡¯re both dead¡­ will I get into trouble?¡±

    Asor slapped his chest, a hearty laugh erupting from him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry! You¡¯ve done a service to our city. You won¡¯t face any repercussions.¡±

    Martin breathed a sigh of relief. The weight of the situation began to lift¡ªperhaps there was hope for him yet. The thrill of not being held accountable for the chaos he had unleashed was almost exhilarating.

 Chapter 27: Shadows of the Past

    Asor''s face, marked by the harshness of his ethnic lineage, belied the kindness within him. He understood that Martin was the magician responsible for Kerry''s downfall, and this knowledge gave him a sense of relief. Kerry had risen to the rank of mid-level swordsman through connections and resources, but his combat skills were lacking. He was the disgrace among the city guards, a reflection of the system''s failures.

    Asor reassured Martin that neither Busca nor Kerry''s demise had any connection to him. The identity of the so-called steel swordsman, however, raised Asor''s suspicions. Yet, he trusted Martin''s words enough to dismiss the absurdity of the situation¡ªcould it really be that these men had met their end at the hands of a mere leaf?

    As their conversation continued, footsteps echoed through the clearing. Leaves rustled as four figures emerged from the jungle. Martin''s heart sank with recognition; he had seen one of them before. Effia, the city¡¯s daughter, was riding a white horse, flanked by three armored guards.

    Martin recalled their last encounter¡ªfour city guards and an orc warrior accompanying Effia. It seemed they were now in front of him, though he had little recollection of Asor amidst the beauty of Effia.

    "What happened here?" Effia''s eyes darted from Busca to Kerry and the smoldering remains of the wooden house. Shock flashed across her face, quickly replaced by determination.

    "Miss Effia, this is what transpired..." Asor recounted the events with urgency.

    Upon hearing the details, Effia''s expression hardened with anger. "This man, Busca, dared to kidnap people? And his son is a guard in my city? This is a disgrace!"

    "Kerry has always been a stain on our city¡¯s honor. It doesn¡¯t surprise me he was involved in this," one of the Terran guards chimed in, eyeing Kerry with disdain. "This fate suits him." He then turned to Martin, skepticism etched on his features. "You say a man claiming to be a steel swordsman killed them? There are only eight senior swordsmen in Stan City, and none claim that title."

    Unlike Asor, this Terran guard was not easily swayed. Doubt lingered in his eyes.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "Balman, are you suggesting that Martin killed these men?" Asor chuckled, unable to contain his amusement.

    Even Effia found humor in the accusation, her laughter ringing through the air like a bell.

    Martin felt a wave of frustration wash over him. Was he merely a joke to them now?

    ¡°No, I know he couldn¡¯t have done it,¡± Balman replied, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m just curious. A senior swordsman doesn¡¯t just appear out of nowhere. The title has to be registered with the Swordsmen¡¯s Guild. I want to know who this steel swordsman truly is. From what I can tell, this doesn¡¯t align with the skill of a senior swordsman.¡±

    Before Martin could respond, Balman was interrupted by the commotion nearby. He quickly added, ¡°Perhaps this swordsman isn¡¯t a senior after all. Maybe he was just pretending to be one.¡±

    "That''s possible," Balman conceded.

    Effia pressed Martin for details about his imprisonment. As he recounted his experiences, her youthful face shifted from concern to sympathy. She placed a comforting hand on Asor¡¯s shoulder, adopting a tone that felt both sincere and slightly patronizing. "You¡¯ve endured so much. This incident reflects poorly on our city government. I will ensure my father compensates you."

    Martin felt a flush of embarrassment. "That¡¯s unnecessary. What kind of compensation are you considering?"

    Effia hesitated. "I¡¯ll have to discuss it with my father first."

    Meanwhile, the city guards had positioned Kerry and Busca side by side. Balman knelt beside Busca¡¯s body, examining it closely. When he noticed a faint mark on Busca¡¯s ring finger, he glanced at Effia, his expression pensive, but he chose not to delve deeper.

    With Balman staying behind with another guard, Martin rode back to the city with Effia, Asor, and the additional guard. They traveled down a hill overlooking Stan City, the weight of the recent events heavy in the air.

    Martin found himself in the carriage that had once belonged to Busca, now a property of the city government. Asor drove, while Effia sat beside Martin, a striking figure in her armor. He felt a strange mix of serenity and curiosity, occasionally stealing glances at her.

    Effia had just returned from a patrol mission, a task meant to guard against the dangers lurking in the surrounding area. The proximity of Stan City to the dark forest often invited trouble, and such patrols were a necessary duty.

    "During this mission, we encountered a third-order wolf tooth beast. It was quite a challenge," Effia said, her voice animated. "In the end, we managed to defeat it, but my sword was damaged." She drew her weapon, revealing a once-majestic blade now marred by rust. "The beast¡¯s venom is corrosive, damaging the enchantments on my sword. I need to find someone to re-enchant it."

    "Enchanting?" Martin perked up at the mention.

    Effia noticed his sudden interest. "What is it?"

    "The enchanted words... Miss Effia, I¡¯d like to try." Martin''s voice was steady, his mind racing with thoughts of enchantments and the potential for his own creations, like his version of Iron Man armor.

 Chapter 28: The Weight of Enchantment

    ¡°Do you know how to enchant?¡± Effia asked, her eyes narrowing in curiosity as she studied Martin.

    Martin felt a wave of tension wash over him. He had just blurted out something he half-expected would never leave his lips. From his fragmented memories, he knew that enchantment was a skill often reserved for mages and dwarves. For dwarves, it was second nature, but for humans, it required years of dedication and innate talent.

    Moreover, there were very few people in Stan City who could enchant¡ªperhaps only ten or so.

    As he met Effia¡¯s gaze, Martin''s heart raced. He felt a surge of panic mixed with a hint of hope. ¡°This¡­ it¡¯s a bit complicated, but I have some understanding,¡± he replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

    ¡°Oh, it should be straightforward to fix the magical array I inscribed on this sword. It¡¯s just a [wind blade], after all,¡± Effia said, handing the sword to him.

    Martin¡¯s eyebrows raised in surprise. ¡°You trust me with your sword?¡±

    Effia smiled, a playful glint in her eye. ¡°Are you afraid to touch my sword?¡±

    Martin swallowed hard, caught off guard by her teasing. He was beginning to understand that as the daughter of a city lord and a talented swordsman, she had a certain confidence that could be intimidating.

    The carriage jostled along the bumpy road, and Martin focused intently on the sword in his hands. He ran his fingers along the intricate patterns etched into the blade, trying to recall everything he knew about enchantment.

    ¡°Enchanting,¡± he mused internally, ¡°is the process of inscribing a magical array onto a weapon or armor. It¡¯s not as simple as drawing a magic scroll, since those can only be used once. Enchantment requires a more permanent integration of magic into the item.¡±

    He thought about mithril, a rare metal known for its magical properties. ¡°To enchant, you need to blend mithril into the weapon''s structure, creating a magical matrix. But how do I form the matrix from the existing patterns?¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Martin felt a knot of uncertainty in his stomach. While he doubted his ability, he was determined to try. Even if he failed, he hoped Effia would understand.

    As the carriage came to a halt in front of Anthony¡¯s Magic Store, Effia turned to him. ¡°I hope you can have this sword fixed for me in two weeks,¡± she said, her tone shifting to something more serious. ¡°As for your reward, we¡¯ll discuss that later.¡±

    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll do my best,¡± Martin replied, stepping down from the carriage. He glanced back, a thought occurring to him. ¡°About that compensation we discussed earlier¡­¡±

    Effia rolled her eyes playfully. ¡°You really don¡¯t forget, do you? Don¡¯t worry about it. With Busca dead and his assets likely confiscated, my father will make sure you get what you¡¯re owed.¡±

    With that, she closed the carriage door, and Asor nodded respectfully. ¡°Yes, Miss Effia.¡±

    Martin watched them leave, a mix of gratitude and apprehension swirling inside him. He turned toward Anthony¡¯s shop, feeling a sense of familiarity wash over him.

    ¡°Martin!¡± He heard a booming voice call out, and turned to see Debbie rushing toward him, her face a mixture of shock and joy. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re back! What happened?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a long story, Debbie,¡± he said, gesturing toward the store entrance. ¡°Let¡¯s talk inside.¡±

    ¡°Then hurry! I¡¯ve got some delicious food for you!¡± she exclaimed, her excitement palpable.

    As they walked, Martin reflected on how strange it was to feel a bond with this girl, a connection that felt both foreign and familiar. After spending three months being held captive, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that their paths were intertwined.

    When they reached the store, Martin¡¯s gaze fell on a small figure sitting quietly outside. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the scene, but there was a palpable sadness in the air.

    ¡°Debbie¡­¡± he called softly, and as if his voice had broken a spell, the little girl looked up, her face streaked with tears.

    At first, she seemed confused, rubbing her eyes, but then recognition dawned. Her surprise quickly turned into a frown of discontent as she sprang to her feet. ¡°Why did you leave without saying anything? I worried about you!¡±

    Before he could respond, she rushed forward, fists clenched, ready to unleash her frustration on him.

    Martin braced himself, remembering how her strength could rival that of a seasoned warrior. He could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through him, but as she reached him, her expression shifted from anger to despair. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she lunged into his embrace.

    ¡°Martin, where have you been? I missed you so much¡­¡± she sobbed, her small frame trembling against him.

    ¡°I missed you too, Debbie,¡± he replied hoarsely, feeling overwhelmed. ¡°But if you could ease up a little, I think my ribs might crack¡­¡±

    As she squeezed him tighter, Martin realized that no matter how tumultuous the world around them had become, moments like these reminded him of the connections that truly mattered.

 Chapter 29: A New Dawn

    ¡°Have you really been stuck in the mountains with Busca for the past three months?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Martin replied, leaning against the doorframe, his expression a mix of exhaustion and relief. ¡°I had to write thirty magic scrolls every day. The room was dark and musty. You can¡¯t imagine how miserable it was.¡±

    ¡°I should have followed you,¡± Debbie said, her voice filled with regret.

    ¡°Even if you had, it wouldn¡¯t have made a difference. They had numbers on their side. I don¡¯t want you blaming yourself. Look at me now,¡± Martin reassured her, forcing a smile.

    ¡°Martin,¡± she said softly.

    ¡°Debbie?¡±

    ¡°I promise I¡¯ll protect you from now on.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but let¡¯s just wait until you¡¯re married to me in two years before you start taking on that responsibility,¡± he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°Debbie?¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    ¡°¡­What was that?¡±

    ¡°I said I¡¯d marry you. It was in the plan anyway,¡± she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly.

    The stars twinkled brightly above them as night enveloped the backyard of Anthony''s Magic Shop. The door was tightly shut, and the sounds of rushing water echoed from inside. Martin was finally taking a shower after months of grueling captivity. The lack of proper hygiene had left him feeling filthy, and he relished the chance to wash away the grime.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    A few moments later, he emerged from the room, dressed in fresh clothes.

    Debbie stood on the steps, beaming. ¡°I did it! I defeated Busca and his son!¡± she exclaimed.

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Martin asked, bewildered.

    ¡°No, no. I mean I learned how to use my giant sword properly. I can now spin it for half an hour without getting dizzy!¡± She twirled around, demonstrating her newfound skill.

    Martin raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face. ¡°Is that what you call a surprise?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Now I¡¯ll never be afraid of Kerry again! I feel strong enough to take on a third-order swordsman!¡± she declared, her enthusiasm infectious.

    ¡°That¡¯s... impressive,¡± he replied, clapping slowly and trying to match her excitement.

    Debbie beamed at him, her face brightening even more. ¡°I¡¯ve been starving, though. Can you make me some noodles?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Martin replied, heading toward the kitchen.

    As he rummaged through the cupboards, Debbie¡¯s voice came from the doorway. ¡°Martin, that steel swordsman who saved you, is he a senior swordsman?¡±

    Martin paused, deliberating how much to reveal. ¡°He¡¯s not a senior swordsman, but he¡¯s incredibly skilled. He wrapped himself in armor, and even though I didn¡¯t see his face, he was undeniably impressive. He took down Kerry and Busca with ease. There¡¯s a spell he used... I think it was called the ¡®Power Generator.¡¯ It was incredible.¡±

    Martin noticed Debbie¡¯s eyes sparkling with admiration, but then he turned to find her resting against the doorframe, her eyelids drooping. She had fallen asleep, exhausted from her training.

    He chuckled softly, realizing how hard she had worked to show him her strength. She had been through so much herself, and yet here she was, trying to reassure him. He felt a warmth spread through him, appreciating their bond.

    After cooking two steaming bowls of noodles, Martin nudged Debbie gently. ¡°Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to eat.¡±

    Later that evening, as Martin lay down on a soft, dry bed, a sense of comfort washed over him. For the first time in months, he was free from the dank wooden bed he had endured during his captivity. The memories of violence were still fresh, but the weight of his actions felt oddly balanced by the realization of survival in this unpredictable world.

    His thoughts drifted to the ring he had taken from Busca, a potential treasure hidden in its depths. He pulled it from his pocket, inspecting it carefully. As he focused his magical energy into it, he felt a faint tug, a doorway to something more.

    This ring held the promise of space magic, a tool for storage that only Busca could open. The excitement of what could lie within sent a thrill through him.

    He couldn¡¯t help but lick his lips in anticipation. The adventure was far from over; it was only just beginning.

 Chapter 30: The Pursuit of Knowledge

    Magic is fundamentally the art of harnessing and manipulating the forces of nature.

    For 13,000 years, since the first human genius discovered the secrets of nature, the application of magic has become increasingly common. Scholars have meticulously dissected its essence, categorizing the various forces of nature into distinct elements.

    At its core, magic is built upon seven primary elements: water, fire, earth, wind, lightning, darkness, and light. These are recognized as the foundational elements of magic. However, beyond these basics, the nature of all things encompasses more than just these seven; through the fusion of basic elements, new forms of magic can emerge.

    For instance, when water and wind combine, they create ice. Similarly, melding water with earth yields wood or swamp elements, while earth and fire give birth to lava. It is said that a complete mastery of these seven elements could lead to the elusive "chaos element," a force of immense power.

    In the long history of magic, only the original genius is said to have successfully wielded time magic to defeat a formidable invasion from the north¡ªa tale that many now regard as mere legend. The potential for merging the seven magical elements remains a topic of intense debate among contemporary scholars.

    Among these elements, water, fire, earth, and wind are considered the foundation upon which novice magicians must build their skills. A primary magician is required to master five basic magic characters, one of which is dedicated to deconstructing these four elements. The more complex elements¡ªspace, darkness, and light¡ªpose greater challenges and are typically reserved for advanced practitioners.

    During his three months of captivity, Martin diligently experimented with magic. He successfully mastered 18 magic characters, bringing his total to 23. However, nine characters remain elusive, all tied to the more complex elements of space, darkness, and light. The intricacies of these elements are such that even understanding their basic principles requires a level of expertise reserved for high-level mages.

    Only advanced mages can manipulate the space magic matrix or create enchanted items like space rings. However, Martin is convinced that unlocking the potential within a space ring doesn''t necessarily require advanced mastery¡ªhe believes he can decipher its secrets.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "The restrictions on a space ring are akin to an electronic lock," Martin mused to himself. "To unlock it, I need to bypass a complex magic matrix, much like breaking into a computer system. If brute force is applied, the system will collapse, and the ring will be destroyed."

    Drawing on his background as a peak hacker, Martin set out to understand the workings of the space ring he possessed. However, he quickly discovered that this was no simple task.

    The following day, as he emerged from his room, he felt a deep sense of frustration. The space ring''s security was designed around a complex spatial matrix, containing many magic characters that he had yet to master. Cracking this recognition system felt impossible¡ªlike trying to breach a bank''s security with only a basic understanding of programming.

    "It seems I need to master those remaining nine magic characters before I can break the space ring," Martin concluded with a sigh.

    In the courtyard, Debbie was practicing with her giant sword. Noticing Martin''s glum demeanor, she approached him with concern. "Hammer, what''s wrong?"

    "I didn''t sleep well last night," Martin admitted, heading to the well to splash some cold water on his face. Once refreshed, he turned to Debbie with a smile. "What do you want for breakfast?"

    "I''m fine with porridge. You should rest today," she advised, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress.

    "I''m okay; I just need to gather my thoughts," he replied, stepping into the kitchen. "While I¡¯m cooking, I have a plan."

    "What''s that?" Debbie asked, her curiosity piqued.

    "I''m heading to the Magic Guild. My wand was destroyed by Busca, so I need to get a new one," Martin explained.

    "Oh, I¡¯ll come with you!" she exclaimed, eager to join him. Over the past few days, she had grown fond of Martin, and she wanted to ensure he didn''t disappear again.

    As Martin began preparing breakfast, an idea struck him. "Oh, and we should stop by Kara¡¯s magic bookstore. I need to pick up a few books."

    Debbie''s expression shifted to one of concern. "Books? What kind?"

    "Magical texts on enchantment," he replied casually.

    "Enchantments?" Her eyes widened. Memories of the last time they had visited a bookstore flooded back¡ªwhen Martin had spent nine gold coins in one go. "Are you sure you want to study that?"

    "I have to," Martin responded. "I need to understand how to enchant items."

    "But enchantment is incredibly difficult," she cautioned.

    "How hard can it be?" he replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

    After three months of captivity, he''d mastered 18 magic characters and crafted a set of armor that had helped him survive. Surely, tackling enchantment was within his grasp.

    As he continued to prepare breakfast, Martin felt a renewed sense of determination. The challenges ahead were daunting, but he was ready to face them.

 Chapter 31: The Crystal Conundrum

    On the mainland of Agendas, nearly every town is home to a Mage Guild, a Swordsman Guild, and a Mercenary Guild. These institutions foster communication and collaboration among magicians, swordsmen, and mercenaries, creating a vibrant network across the continent.

    Stan City''s Mage Guild is situated in the Lanercost District. Unlike the grand Mercenary Guild or the bustling Swordsman Guild, the Mage Guild appears modest¡ªa two-story building with a rather unremarkable facade. Despite the high regard in which magicians are held, the number of practitioners is strikingly low; in a city of hundreds of thousands, there are barely a hundred magicians.

    The entrance to the guild feels almost deserted. A few magical items, such as parchment, magic ink, and wands, can be purchased here, but they are primarily used by the magicians themselves. Unlike the Swordsman Guild or Mercenary Guild, where members frequently meet and challenge one another, the magicians tend to keep to their own circles.

    "I want to buy a wand," Martin said, stepping into the quiet hall alongside Debbie.

    As he surveyed the surroundings, he noted the sparsely furnished interior. A lone recliner held an old man dressed in a black robe, who appeared more interested in his wine than his surroundings. He was humming a tune, taking occasional sips from a small jug.

    The old man¡¯s gaze shifted toward Martin. "Hey? You¡¯re Martin, aren¡¯t you?"

    "Do you know me?" Martin was taken aback. He hadn''t expected to be recognized, even in a city with so few magicians.

    "I¡¯m Basgen," the old man announced, rising from his seat with surprising energy. "Word travels fast! You defeated Kerry, that fourth-order swordsman, using a magic scroll. It¡¯s the talk of the town! And Busca, that old fool, still has the nerve to send me to check on his worthless son."

    Debbie leaned closer to Martin and whispered, "That¡¯s Basgen! I¡¯ve heard Dad mention him. He¡¯s a fifth-order mage, well-known for his healing magic."

    Martin felt a new level of respect for Basgen. "Mr. Basgen, I¡¯m looking to buy a wand."

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Basgen¡¯s expression brightened. "I heard you were rescued from Busca and his son not long ago. If you¡¯re here for a new wand, the city will cover the cost since your previous one was ruined. Feel free to choose whatever you like."

    "Really?" Martin¡¯s face lit up at the prospect. The idea of getting a new wand without spending his own money was tempting, especially for someone who had just faced a harrowing experience.

    But as he considered the offer, a shadow of disappointment crossed his mind. A wand for a life-threatening ordeal? Surely, he deserved more than that.

    Basgen seemed oblivious to Martin''s hesitation. "Just a moment; I¡¯ll fetch the wands from the inner hall," he said, disappearing behind a door.

    As soon as he left, Debbie exclaimed, "Wait! Look over there!"

    "What¡¯s wrong?" Basgen asked, tilting his head in curiosity as he turned back.

    Debbie pointed at a mirror hanging on the wall. "There¡¯s something in it!"

    Martin approached the mirror, intrigued. Reflected in the glass was a tall figure, but more fascinating was the blue crystal glowing within it¡ªan ethereal object that didn¡¯t seem to exist in the physical world. He glanced around, confirming that nothing was amiss in the hall.

    Debbie waved her hand in front of the mirror, trying to grasp the crystal. Her palm passed through, as if the glass were merely an illusion.

    Basgen chuckled. "Ah, that¡¯s a magic crystal. A senior magician who visited our guild left it there. He hid it as a challenge: whoever can retrieve it from the mirror gets to keep it."

    Martin raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. "And you think I can just take it?"

    Basgen shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You never know until you try."

    Martin¡¯s mind raced. He understood the mechanics of basic space magic, and he recognized that the crystal was likely secured by a simple spatial matrix¡ªnot locked, just waiting for someone to push through.

    Debbie urged him on, her excitement palpable. "Come on, Martin! Just try!"

    With a deep breath, Martin reached out. His fingers touched the mirror, and he felt a strange sensation, as if he were pushing against a gentle current. He remembered the door he had once encountered while trying to crack a space ring. This was similar, albeit simpler.

    Gathering his focus, he pushed against the surface, and to his astonishment, his hand slipped through as if the mirror were a calm lake. He felt the crystal within reach, and with a swift motion, he plucked it from its magical confines.

    As he pulled his hand back, holding the shimmering crystal, Debbie stared in disbelief. "Wait, you actually got it? That was too easy! It must not be worth anything!"

    But as Martin examined the crystal, he realized its significance went beyond mere monetary value. This was a tangible embodiment of his potential¡ªa reminder that sometimes, the greatest challenges could yield unexpected rewards.

 Chapter 32: A Shocking Revelation

    Martin stared at the magic crystal that had suddenly materialized in his hand, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. Was this truly worthless? He had expected something far more significant.

    Frustrated, he recalled the previous day when he had attempted to crack the space ring. He had perceived a door within the ring and spent the night trying to push it open. Today, he saw what appeared to be a mirror of the space magic matrix, and he easily envisioned the door, allowing him to push it open effortlessly.

    To him, this seemed like a simple task. But Martin was unaware that no second-order mage would ever attempt to crack a space ring; that was a feat reserved for senior magicians. The ability to visualize the door within the space matrix was an extraordinary skill that required a profound understanding of magical characters and matrices.

    Martin¡¯s success stemmed from his background as a programmer, which had given him a unique perspective on visualizing complex arrays and characters. This innate ability translated surprisingly well into the world of magic. Despite possessing only average magical aptitude, he exhibited a level of magical intuition that many magicians spend their lifetimes developing.

    Just then, footsteps echoed in the hall. It was Mr. Basgen, wand in hand, returning to the room. Martin quickly pocketed the magic crystal, realizing that it was merely a trinket. What truly piqued his interest was the wand, which was a fundamental tool for any magician.

    Basgen produced a dozen wands, each meticulously arranged on a round table. With a smile, he gestured to Martin, ¡°Choose one.¡±

    Wands were essential for releasing spells, acting as a medium through which a magician could channel their power. Without a wand, a novice magician was no different from an ordinary person. The materials used to craft wands often included magical trees like the Morgan Tree, Blood Carving Tree, and others, while magical cores made from materials like dragon blood were highly sought after.

    However, the wands Basgen presented were of common quality, suitable only for low-level magicians.

    ¡°Wands are like swords for magicians. Each mage must find one they resonate with. The wand will often choose its owner, allowing you to accurately channel your magic,¡± Basgen explained, encouraging Martin to experiment with each wand.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Martin replied, eagerly picking one up.

    Having spent three months in confinement, Martin had gained a new understanding of magic. He had created various new spells based on his experiences, inscribing them onto parchment as magic scrolls. Each spell, recorded in his memory, was ready for testing.

    As he grasped the wand, excitement surged within him. He couldn¡¯t wait to unleash his newfound spells.

    ¡°Four Times Lightning,¡± he thought, focusing intently on the incantation. With a gentle wave of his wand, he summoned the spell.

    A crackling bolt of lightning erupted from the end of the wand, illuminating the room in a brilliant blue-white flash. The air hummed with energy, and a sense of raw power filled the space.

    Basgen¡¯s eyes widened with surprise. This spell was formidable!

    But then disaster struck. The wand shattered under the strain of the spell, splintering into pieces. Martin released the remnants and felt a jolt of energy travel through his arm.

    Silence enveloped the room.

    Then, with a swift kick, Basgen scolded, ¡°What were you thinking? You can¡¯t just unleash a powerful attack spell like that while testing a wand! Look at what you¡¯ve done!¡±

    Martin blinked in confusion, rubbing his sore palm. He couldn¡¯t fathom why the spell had destroyed the wand. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what went wrong. It worked perfectly with the magic scrolls¡­¡±

    His thoughts raced. Perhaps the wand had been defective?

    Basgen, maintaining his composure, thought to himself, ¡°I might need to inform the Mage Guild about the quality of these wands.¡± He smiled at Martin. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Let¡¯s try another wand. Just avoid the attack spells for now.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Martin said, determined to continue.

    To Basgen¡¯s astonishment, Martin effortlessly executed the life magic spell [Breeze], manipulating the air around him with a grace that was rare for a novice.

    With each spell he attempted, Martin became more adept, finally selecting a wand made of paulownia, adorned with flamingo feathers. Feeling confident, he left the hall, having forgotten all about the magic crystal.

    Basgen resumed his seat, closing his eyes to rest.

    As the day wore on, a weary-looking seventeen-year-old mage entered the guild hall. Basgen recognized him immediately.

    ¡°Obert, you¡¯re back,¡± he said, greeting the young man.

    ¡°Mr. Basgen, I need to try again,¡± Obert replied, his eyes eager yet fatigued as he approached the mirror.

    Obert, the son of the president of the Stan City Mage Guild and a third-order magician, had been struggling with the magic crystal. Despite being the most talented mage in Stan, he knew his skills paled in comparison to those of mages from larger cities. The magic crystal had become a source of frustration for him, a challenge he was determined to overcome.

    Suddenly, Obert¡¯s voice rang through the hall, ¡°Mr. Basgen¡­ the magic crystal¡­ it¡¯s gone!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Basgen exclaimed, taken aback. The implications were staggering.

 Chapter 33: The Price of Enchantment

    As the commotion in the magic hall subsided, Martin and Debbie made their way to the Kara Magic Bookstore on Stardust Avenue. After leaving the Mage Guild, they decided to grab a quick lunch, reminiscing about the extravagant meal they had indulged in earlier, costing them four silver coins.

    Debbie, with a serious expression, turned to Martin and said, ¡°You must remember, the books on the magic bookshelf should not be touched casually. I¡¯ve heard that learning enchantment is incredibly challenging. If the books are too expensive, we won¡¯t buy them. Besides, your qualifications may not allow you to learn it anyway¡­¡±

    Martin shot her an incredulous look. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have spared me the discouragement?¡± he thought, rolling his eyes at her comment about his abilities.

    Entering the magic bookstore, they found it eerily empty, just as they had left it last time. The lack of customers was disheartening. Martin sighed, ¡°This place really needs better management.¡±

    Debbie shook her head, recalling their last visit. ¡°Last time, she charged us nine gold coins for that terrible book¡­¡±

    Martin nodded in agreement, and a moment of silence hung between them before Debbie added wistfully, ¡°When will we be able to open a store like this?¡±

    Martin chuckled, ¡°When we do, we¡¯ll make sure to sell books that are actually worth buying.¡±

    He moved to the back of the store, hoping to find books on enchantment. Scanning the shelves, he quickly became disappointed. After searching through every book, he realized there was not a single title related to enchantment.

    ¡°What? No enchanted books?¡± he exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice.

    Debbie, who had been looking for books alongside him, confirmed his findings. ¡°It looks like there¡¯s nothing here,¡± she said, noticing his disappointment. ¡°I heard enchantment books are incredibly rare and valuable.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Just then, a voice floated down from the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re quite mistaken. It¡¯s not that the enchantment books are too valuable; it¡¯s that the technique itself is too complex to be captured in writing.¡±

    Kara appeared, her presence commanding attention. She wore a simple yet charming outfit that accentuated her figure, but Martin quickly diverted his gaze to avoid any awkwardness.

    ¡°Complex?¡± Martin asked, intrigued. ¡°Are you saying the technology of enchantment isn¡¯t documented anywhere?¡±

    Kara descended the stairs, a roast leg of lamb in her hand. ¡°Exactly. Enchantment can be grasped in a single day by some mages, while others may struggle their entire lives. It¡¯s all about talent. Are you interested in learning?¡±

    Her gaze lingered on Martin, and he felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± he countered, half-smirking.

    Kara laughed lightly. ¡°Just a small agency fee of five gold coins.¡±

    ¡°Five gold coins? Are you serious?¡± Martin¡¯s anger flared. ¡°That¡¯s outrageous!¡±

    Kara leaned against the wall, chuckling. ¡°You should know that finding an enchanter is rare. The fee is quite reasonable considering what you¡¯ll gain. Without my help, you¡¯d never get a chance to learn from them.¡±

    Martin was skeptical. Five gold coins was a hefty sum, equivalent to about fifty thousand of his currency. He glanced at Debbie, who appeared deep in thought.

    After a moment, Debbie¡¯s expression changed. To Martin¡¯s astonishment, she reached into her purse and pulled out five gold coins, handing them to Kara. ¡°Here, take us to the enchanter!¡±

    Martin stared at her, shocked. ¡°You¡¯re kidding! You just gave her five gold coins without a second thought?¡±

    Kara¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly pocketed the coins, wiping her hands on a towel after discarding the bone from her leg of lamb. ¡°Follow me,¡± she said, leading them outside the bookstore.

    As they walked, Martin couldn¡¯t help but feel a rush of gratitude for Debbie. She had clearly noticed his fascination with enchantment and was willing to support him, even if it meant spending her own money.

    ¡°Just so you know, if you don¡¯t learn enchantment after this, you¡¯ll regret spending those five gold coins for the rest of your life!¡± Debbie warned, her tone serious.

    Martin chuckled nervously. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s worth it.¡±

    As they followed Kara, the weight of his decision settled on him. The allure of enchantment was strong, but so was the risk of failure. Would he be able to learn, or would this be yet another disappointment? Only time would tell.

 Chapter 34: The Weight of Wealth and Responsibility

    After a group of bandit prisoners was taken to the basement, Paul noticed a stranger standing next to Schroeder. The young man¡¯s face was unshaven, and his clothes were torn, but they were not the ragged garments of an ordinary civilian.

    ¡°Schroeder, who is this?¡± Paul asked, his brow furrowing in curiosity.

    ¡°Oh, I forgot to mention him. He claims to be a member of the Foster family from the Azure Bay Alliance. He came to explore the Northwest Gulf a few months ago but was unfortunately kidnapped by bandits,¡± Schroeder replied.

    The young man immediately straightened, executing a noble salute with perfect posture. ¡°My lord, you must be the ruler of this land. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Quiller Foster, the second son of the Marquis of Foster, a member of the Council of the Azure Bay Alliance. On behalf of my family, I extend my deepest gratitude for rescuing me from the pirates.¡±

    Paul suppressed a smile at the young man¡¯s grandiosity. ¡°You¡¯re too kind! It¡¯s my duty as a lord,¡± he replied, noting the name-drop of the Marquis. Clearly, Quiller was keen to leverage his family¡¯s status.

    ¡°You are Quiller Foster?¡± Meru Highmore, the head of the Leachman Adventure Group, interjected, her voice laced with frustration. ¡°Do you have any idea how hard we worked to find you?¡±

    Quiller looked confused, glancing between Meru and the others. ¡°Uh... how many of you are there?¡±

    Meru¡¯s exasperation peaked. ¡°Your family hasn¡¯t heard from you in two months! They¡¯ve been worried sick! Lord Marquis entrusted us to find you, and we risked our lives in the process.¡±

    ¡°Uh, I was just impulsive and worried,¡± Quiller replied dismissively.

    Meru¡¯s patience snapped. ¡°What I said was that I almost lost my life trying to save you! You should be grateful, not flippant! The commission was for a search, not for battling pirates. I expect at least double, no, triple the initial payment!¡±

    Quiller snapped his fingers, his demeanor suddenly arrogant. ¡°What a joke! The Foster family respects adventurers. We will fulfill your wishes.¡±

    His indifference drew a collective sigh from the room. ¡°You don¡¯t even know what the initial commission was!¡± Meru retorted, frustration evident in her voice as everyone shared glances of envy toward the wealthy young man.

    As they spoke, officers who had been suppressing the pirates in Fulen Harbor arrived at the church one after another. Quiller and the Leachman Adventure Group were shown to a resting area, while the townspeople were sent home. In a nearby room, battalion and company officers were summoned for a debriefing.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Staff Officer Joyce stood up to report. ¡°My lords, this operation yielded excellent results. The Shark Gang was completely dismantled. We killed 123 bandits, including their leader, Shark. Sadly, we lost thirty-two of our own, and fifty-five were wounded.¡±

    The officers exchanged satisfied nods, proud of what they had accomplished.

    Paul leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. ¡°What about the bandit group led by someone called ¡®Loach¡¯?¡±

    Joyce shook his head. ¡°We didn¡¯t encounter them. According to the captives, they fled back to sea early on.¡±

    Schroeder added, ¡°During the chase, we recovered several boxes of coins they had brought on board. It¡¯s estimated there are 2,000 gold coins, 6,000 silver coins, and tens of thousands of copper coins.¡±

    Gasps of surprise filled the room. No one had anticipated such riches from a small pirate group. The prospect of newfound wealth invigorated everyone¡¯s spirits.

    Paul¡¯s mind raced with possibilities. ¡°With that money, we could mint more cannons, recruit additional soldiers, build more muskets, and even develop our own naval power.¡±

    Ideas flowed as the officers shared their thoughts on how to use the windfall. Even Cecil, the intelligence director, couldn¡¯t help but hint that his work needed more funding.

    But then, someone raised a critical question. ¡°But a lot of this money was robbed from the coastal residents. Shouldn¡¯t it be returned to them?¡±

    An uneasy silence fell over the room. All eyes turned toward Paul, the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders. He felt an internal conflict; while he wanted to return the money to the people, he also knew the complexities involved.

    After a moment, Schroeder broke the silence. ¡°With our current resources, calculating the exact losses for each household is nearly impossible. The Shark Gang has been active for years and has robbed from other territories as well. If we allow citizens to claim it, it could lead to false claims and chaos. For instance, someone who wasn¡¯t robbed could easily assert they lost their last silver coin.¡±

    Nods of agreement rippled through the room as the officers considered Schroeder¡¯s point.

    Cecil chimed in, ¡°The common people can be cunning and greedy. When I was handling forestry matters, I often encountered troublemakers looking to take advantage.¡±

    Paul¡¯s anger flared at this comment. He slammed his hand on the table, startling Cecil into silence. He was frustrated by the casual dismissal of the commoners¡¯ plight, even if it stemmed from personal experience.

    Schroeder continued, ¡°Instead of returning the money directly, I propose other compensatory methods. We could reduce taxes, pave roads for the robbed villages, or discreetly provide some assistance to families genuinely affected by the bandits. This way, we avoid relying solely on claims that could be misleading.¡±

    ¡°Good idea!¡± various officers responded in agreement, some even applauding Schroeder¡¯s suggestion.

    Paul, recognizing the wisdom in Schroeder¡¯s plan, nodded decisively. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s proceed with that. We¡¯ll ensure the people receive the support they need, while also safeguarding against potential abuses.¡±

    The room filled with murmurs of approval, and Paul felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but today, they had taken a step toward doing right by their people.