Chapter 0037: A Brilliant Revenge

As for the last piece of blue metal ore, after Grim’s identification, it turned out to be a chunk of magic iron ore. If this kind of ore is properly smelted, refined, and forged, the resulting weapon will possess slight characteristics of a witchcraft implement, granting properties such as increased sharpness or armor penetration. Such things might be considered precious treasures in the world of mortals, but among a group of wizard apprentices wielding extraordinary power, it appears rather unimpressive.

Grim quickly sorted through his belongings and, with a casual gesture, picked up another book of witchcraft to read. In truth, he was in no mood to truly immerse himself in the atmosphere of arcane study. However, as long as his mental energy was not yet depleted each day, he made a point of using every available moment to the fullest.

When his mental energy was abundant, he practiced witchcraft. Though the chip assisted him and all the most significant spells would eventually be permanently imprinted in his memory, diligent daily practice remained essential. After all, during his apprenticeship, a casting specialty awaited him. Whether it was Rapid Casting, Mobile Casting, or Artifact Crafting, each was an excellent choice.

Only by deliberately strengthening a particular aspect of himself could he hope to receive feedback from the will of the wizarding world through relentless practice, thus gaining these invaluable auxiliary spell specialties.

Rapid Casting allowed a wizard apprentice to complete incantation casting quickly. With this specialty, even the most convoluted spells would only require 80% of their incantation to be completed before activating automatically. Don’t underestimate the mere 20% reduction in casting time—this specialty was the prerequisite for the subsequent, far more advanced Instant Spellcasting.

The significance of Instant Spellcasting to an elemental wizard needed no further explanation.

Mobile Casting, however, was the specialty Grim most desired to attain during his apprenticeship. It would allow a wizard apprentice to continuously cast spells even while running at high speed; otherwise, casting offensive or defensive magic would require him to remain rooted in place, unable to move. Thus, this specialty was a must-have for any combat wizard.

Artifact Crafting was equally indispensable for apprentices aspiring to concoct witch medicines, forge magical implements, or create enchanted equipment. Only by mastering this specialty could one hope to fashion wands, magical tools, and pursue the subsequent path of item enchantment.

However, most witchcraft books were vague regarding the process of obtaining these specialties, repeatedly referencing the term “will of the wizarding world.” On this point, Grim always harbored doubts.

Any knowledge or skill, so long as one practiced diligently and contemplated it daily, would surely become ingrained as instinct in a body trained by relentless discipline. But to gain some mysterious ability through the feedback of the wizarding world’s will—such “manna from heaven” was somewhat beyond Grim’s comprehension.

Could it be that this vast and boundless world in which he lived truly possessed a will of its own? Could it watch over and care for every being living upon its expanse, rewarding them at appropriate times for their good performance, like a god high above?

If such a will truly existed, in what form would it dwell? Where would it hide? By what means could it control and direct the world of planes?

Still, Grim dared not categorically deny the existence of such mysteries. After all, the wizarding world in which he currently resided was a vast plane enveloped by a sea of magical energy. In a place so saturated with arcane power, nothing could be considered impossible.

Therefore, before he could unveil the shrouded veils of these esoteric mysteries, maintaining awe and respect for all things remained the proper attitude for a wizard apprentice seeking knowledge and truth.

He continued absorbing the knowledge from his books until his mental energy was nearly spent, and only then did Grim stop “reading.” He couldn’t afford to exhaust himself completely; after all, the Flame Arrow was still undergoing optimization, requiring a daily expenditure of one point of mental energy.

He glanced at the deep night outside his window—it was already the dead of night.

Wearily, Grim closed his book, stood, stretched with a series of satisfying cracks, and finally stumbled onto his wooden bed in a daze.

Yet, it was not quite time for a sweet sleep; he had yet to complete his customary daily meditation.

So, in the silent darkness, his breathing gradually evened out as his consciousness sank into that spirit world filled with motes of elemental light. Such was the sorrow of a wizard apprentice.

From the moment they opened their eyes each day, their schedules were packed to the brim. Even when they crawled, utterly exhausted, into bed, what awaited them was not sweet dreams but the routine of meditation. Only through this daily practice could their mental energy slowly increase, bit by bit.

……

Yet, as the lights of the entire Marsh Tower gradually extinguished and darkness claimed all, a bizarre figure suddenly appeared high upon the tower.

The nearly vertical walls, adorned with dormant, enigmatic magical arrays, posed no obstacle at all. The figure darted across the surface with a speed far beyond that of ordinary humans. Clearly, her actions were purposeful; passing several open narrow windows, she did not pause, weaving swiftly from shadow to shadow.

No, she was not a shadow creature able to leap at will through darkness, but her exceptional agility granted her movement capabilities unimaginable to ordinary people. The sheer tower walls that no normal person could climb were, to her, as flat as the ground, and she moved in utter silence, like a ghostly assassin living in the shadows.

At last, her target was in sight.

With a single leap, the agile form hung outside a narrow window, her entire body swallowed by shadow, listening intently.

Within, the room was utterly silent, broken only by the slow, steady breathing of its occupant—plainly, the apprentice inside was in deep meditation. At such times, wizard apprentices were completely defenseless. Any thief, or someone of a similar profession, slipping inside could end the life of a promising future wizard with a single sharp blade.

But the figure outside the window was clearly experienced, making no move to enter, but instead opening her eyes within the darkness, scanning the surroundings with a trace of suspicion.

Quiet! Still! Deathly silence!

Everything around seemed normal, yet for no apparent reason, a sense of dread welled up within her.

It was not that she truly sensed anything, but rather, a warning rose distantly from the depths of her unfamiliar bloodline, as if danger awaited ahead.

She might loathe the cursed blood that had rendered her neither human nor ghost, but as an altered vampire awakened to her lineage, she trusted any warning it gave implicitly.

By day, that scoundrel had just given her a taste of his power, and by night he dared to meditate so defenselessly—such a wizard apprentice was either fearless or a fool!

In the shadow beneath the windowsill, her bright eyes flashed with a sly smile. With a flick of her slender hand, Red Mary tossed a fist-sized orb through the narrow window before herself transforming into a black bat, melting into the moonlit night as she fluttered away.

The instant the orb passed through the window, a hidden magical array on the inside was triggered.

With a crackle and a flash of eerie blue light, paralyzing lightning filled the space where the orb landed. No matter how swift Red Mary might be, even twice as fast, she could never have dodged it completely. But within the room’s shadows, where moments before there had been nothing, four or five bizarre spells of various colors suddenly shot forth, all at once striking the orb that had survived the paralyzing lightning trap.

After all, the orb was only an ordinary mud-caked shell, and how could it withstand so many spells? The moment it was struck, it shattered!

The broken shell revealed a mass of jelly-like sludge, still alive, trapped within. Stirred from mud, filth, and foul water, the sickly green body even bore a faintly human face.

“Damn, it’s a Sludge Monster!”

“Damn it, a Sludge Monster…”

“Everyone, get back…”

…

With their extensive experience, how could these wizard apprentices not recognize this infamous denizen of the Magic Marsh? Those who had suffered at its hands were traumatized for life. Encountering one in the marsh, every apprentice would give it a wide berth—even the top three would do the same.

For it was the most detestable monster in the marsh—none more loathed than the Sludge Monster.

A supremely disgusting soft-bodied magical creature, it looked like a pile of slimy, shapeless organic matter, sporting mismatched teeth and eyes on its sickly green body, which was soft as mud yet resilient as jelly.

Its attack power was negligible, but it possessed the most excruciatingly “terrifying” ability of all—Acid Vomit.

This bizarre creature’s body contained a certain ratio of elemental matter, but it was already tainted by chaotic forces. Anything or anyone touched by its acid would be corroded and, worse, cursed with a stench so awful it defied description.

And this odor could not be removed by any spell. Whoever was sprayed by the Sludge Monster’s acid would be tormented by the stench for ten days or half a month. During that time, anything you touched would also mysteriously acquire the foul smell.

Imagine—a wizard apprentice cursed by such a stench, finding every delicacy tasting like it had soaked for a thousand years in a reeking, fetid swamp. The torment, the mockery and avoidance by all, could drive even the strongest to madness.

Now, this Sludge Monster, sealed within its muddy shell, had just been blasted apart in midair by their spells. What followed was sure to be a truly “acidic” experience!

As the sickly green acid splattered across the room, a chorus of retching and vomiting erupted within.

“Red… Mary… I’ll… never… forgive… you…”

A furious, tragic roar, punctuated by convulsions of nausea, was delivered by the apprentice Alan. Before he could finish his threat, his words were drowned out by the sounds of furious vomiting.