Chapter 38: A Conspiracy?

The group soon arrived at the mission hall. Whether it was the Arcane Society or “Chief” Born Eolum, both enjoyed considerable popularity within the academy, and their joint appearance quickly drew the attention of those around them.

“Let’s go, we’ll turn in the mission together.”

Returning to the academy, Lisper regained her usual cool elegance and efficiency, ignoring the curious stares from all sides. Those who came to study at Giles Academy were either from wealthy families or nobility; most hadn’t even killed a chicken, let alone faced down a lizardman.

Seeing the lizardman behind them, now reduced to a limbless stump, the onlookers felt a blend of curiosity and fear. The lizardman chieftain, according to the chip’s analysis, was level eleven—just one rank higher than Born, but an entirely different order of magnitude! Level eleven was considered high-tier, marking the initial transformation in the hierarchy of life.

If not for the favorable circumstances and Born’s bluffing that cowed the lizardmen, coupled with the [Cloud of Stench] spell being boosted by the Weave to fifth tier, subduing such a high-tier lizardman would have been impossible. A mere third-tier spell wouldn’t have sufficed.

Even so, the vitality of a high-tier lizardman was truly terrifying. By the second day after leaving the forest, the chieftain had already awakened. Fortunately, Born had severed all his limbs, or bringing him back to Sevanton would have been impossible.

Even after being deprived of food and water, left to languish for five or six days, the lizardman chieftain showed no signs of fatigue; his limbs had even begun to heal and slowly regenerate. His hatred for humans was palpable. The moment he saw so many people gather, his amber eyes turned blood-red, and he thrashed and roared, desperate to tear every human present to shreds.

The members of the Arcane Society were accustomed to such outbursts, remaining unfazed, but the surrounding students were not. Many had never witnessed such a display and retreated in fright.

President Lisper frowned slightly as she glanced over, as if suddenly understanding something.

Born was indifferent to everything happening around him. After all, the academy was a sheltered community; those who hadn’t seen battle were just greenhorns. A unit of three hundred soldiers could easily rout three hundred students.

Still, the lizardman chieftain’s constant roaring over the past few days had allowed the chip to collect much information on their language. Born had nearly mastered basic Draconic by now—only conversational fluency remained.

Of course, until he reached high-tier himself, Born had no intention of interacting with true dragons.

“I wonder how many points I’ll get this time. I recall the library has a ‘Dragon Compendium’—and it costs a hundred points to borrow…”

The only issue with intelligence missions was the guaranteed minimum reward; anything beyond that depended on the value of the information provided.

The mission clerk was utterly stunned at the sight of a lizardman chained to the floor. He’d processed countless missions, especially intelligence-gathering ones, which usually involved scraps, blood samples, or vague speculations and secret reports. But this—this was unprecedented.

It was as if, in a war, a scout had not only brought back intelligence but captured the enemy general.

Intelligence had no real standards; aside from a guaranteed minimum, theoretically there was no cap to the reward. Bringing back the chieftain of a lizardman tribe was of immense strategic and informational value—the points awarded would surely be significant.

But how many? With no precedent, the clerk was at a loss.

If it were an ordinary student, he could easily fob them off with a token reward. But these were not people to be trifled with. He couldn’t just hand out points on a whim; there was a quota for monthly distribution.

Were young people nowadays really this formidable? Back when he was their age, he’d only just become an apprentice mage—yet these individuals had become mid-tier professionals before even graduating. The younger generation was truly remarkable.

The arbiter gave no clear answer, simply instructing them to return home; the final reward would be determined by Academician Hawks.

“It looks like the rewards will be generous this time,” Beron said excitedly.

The members of the Arcane Society were clearly expectant as well. Mission rewards included not only points but special privileges. For example, the president of the Arcane Society, as the leader of a recognized institution, enjoyed the privilege of borrowing the “Nether Scrolls” once a year.

“It seems we won’t be getting our rewards today,” Born remarked. He had only agreed to accompany President Lisper on this off-campus mission, and now that it was complete, he planned to return home.

Born bid farewell to President Lisper and the others, then took flight with [Fly], heading straight back to his underground lair.

The members of the Arcane Society could only exchange helpless smiles as they watched Born fly away right before their eyes.

The rule forbidding flight within the academy had been set by the first president of the Arcane Society. Back then, the academy was newly established, its rules full of loopholes, and most of its policies were devised or enforced by the Arcane Society itself.

Although the instructors didn’t interfere with students’ activities outside of class, the president of the Arcane Society was always the strongest among the students. Who would dare defy them?

It was assumed that with such attractive benefits, every student would aspire to become president. And, naturally, the president would be the strongest. Over the years, there had been a few exceptions, but the president remained an authoritative figure.

No one had anticipated the appearance of two prodigies this term. One was Rayleigh Cecil—a bloodline sorcerer from an affluent clan, with no need for the Arcane Society’s resources, which was understandable.

But the other was Born Eolum. Even more exceptional, he had become an arcanist at a young age, and within a few years of enrollment had advanced to mid-tier mage.

As the only descendant of the Eolum family for three generations, it was understandable that he had their full support. However, the whole academy knew that not long after his enrollment, his family had cut off his resources.

Born simply went into business himself. His partner, Raymond Ivanthoff, managed a dozen shops within the academy in just a year, turning over tens of thousands monthly. Last year, their operations expanded off-campus, and they even ended up competing with Born’s own family’s businesses—the rivalry became the talk of the entire Nether noble circle, with everyone watching to see who would emerge victorious.

Not only that, Born was a master at writing theses. His first paper earned him a thousand points—most students didn’t accumulate five hundred by graduation.

As a result, he had no interest in the presidency of the Arcane Society and found it too troublesome to even join. He even clashed with the Enforcement Team, taking them all on single-handedly. Having trained as a monk, he wasn’t afraid of a brawl.

The Arcane Society had no way to control these two; they could only let them be.

…

Back in his underground chamber, Born finally felt at ease. Everything was as he’d left it. The magical storage device was full, and the excess arcane energy had begun to permeate the room, making the elemental energies in the laboratory come alive.

This was a simplified version of a mage tower’s elemental pool, constructed by Born himself.

He set down his excess supplies and changed into a fresh noble’s robe.

Soon after, he stood before his grandfather.

When Born produced the cursed stone wrapped and “sealed” in lead foil, the Count’s expression darkened immediately.

“Where did you get this?”

His grandfather clearly recognized the object! How interesting.

A plot? Or a setup?

“Hmph! There are always those who wish to harm me!” Born instantly imagined a dozen possible twists for the story ahead.

“If not for my strong will in refusing to keep it hidden, disaster might have followed!”

In truth, thanks to the chip’s scan, Born had discovered that the “seal” which should have lasted a month was already deteriorating—only ten days remained!

Though he felt nothing unusual when holding the stone, he trusted the chip’s analysis far more.

…

(P.S.: I’ve been revising previous chapters these past two days, and in the process, the setting changed and underwent a major overhaul. If you’re interested, feel free to reread. Apologies for the late update.)