Another World’s Versatile Crafting Master

Gryffindor had been in high spirits these two days.

It so happened that he met Orrin in the arena even before the finals. This was something he had not expected. Moreover, that moron was foolish enough to take the initiative to attack the guild’s steward despite being a trial apprentice. Even if he was killed, he could only blame himself for his own bad luck.

Unfortunately…

Mason, that fly, got in the way and took Orrin away at the very last minute. The Pyroblast that he had so carefully prepared couldn’t be released in time.

So be it—Orrin was lucky this time. Anyway, he wouldn’t survive more than a few days. He was directly hit by the Pyroblast, and in addition, Gryffindor had cast a curse at the last moment. Even if he didn’t die on the spot, he wouldn’t survive until the day of the finals.

Better let me come up against that Jarrosus country boy in the first round. I’ll let him know then that there’s also a distinction among the Archmages…

Gryffindor returned to his apartment in a cheerful mood. His teammates had moved out, so the room was exceptionally quiet. Now the whole apartment was Gryffindor’s. The few chairs in the living room were placed at random. A huge crystal ball that was emitting a soft light was placed on the tea table.

Gryffindor stood before the crystal ball and recited a spell hurriedly. Then there was only a ray of light, and a white-haired figure appeared in the crystal ball.

“Gryffindor, do you have some questions on magic you’d like to ask me, seeing that you’ve reached out to me at this time?” The old man in the crystal ball looked to be in his sixties. He was gaunt and his face was covered in wrinkles. Other than a pair of keen eyes, he looked no different than an ordinary old man.

“Yes, Mentor Rosen. I’ve been trying to shorten the duration of my recitations, but I seem to be having some problems…” Gryffindor quickly explained the difficulty.

Rosen was still holding onto a crystal pen in the crystal ball. His eyebrows were furrowed as he drew a line on a blank scroll while explaining a principle to Gryffindor in a comprehensive and meticulous way. “Shortening the duration of the recitation is the simplest way to improve mental strength, but it does not mean much to you. After all, the enhancement of the mental strength can’t be done overnight. Another way is to analyze the structure of the elements repeatedly. The more you understand the structure of the elements, the quicker you can finish your spell-casting…”

Gryffindor continued with a few more questions. Rosen took time to answer all of them while still busying himself with the scroll. He seemed absent-minded, but his answers were succinct and precise. His explanations were in one or two sentences, but he always managed to hit the nail on the head. They were issues whose solutions Gryffindor couldn’t figure out even after thinking for a long while, but he’d immediately show expressions of sudden enlightenment when guided by Rosen with a mere word.

If Lin Li were present, he could probably make out what Rosen had drawn on the scroll—it was a “tidal” mageweath. This mageweath, which could increase the speed of mana restoration by several times, was not easy to draft. Only Inscribers who attained a mastery level and beyond could understand its complete structure. It was well known to be extremely difficult to draw. Even Aldwin, who was known as the number one Inscriber in Felan, could not guarantee he’d succeed in every try, not to mention Rosen, who was giving pointers to his disciple while drawing the mageweath.

Speaking of Rosen, he was indeed nothing but legendary.

He came from the Fallen Leaves City’s Guild of Magic, north of the Breezy Plains. His name first became known 40 years ago. At that time, Rosen had just turned 30, but he had already broken through to the Archmage realm. In a battle between the Fallen Leaves City Guild of Magic and the pirates, he’d killed a level-18 pirate with one strike, and his name spread throughout the Felan Kingdom at once.

In the following 10 years, Rosen’s prestige in the guild reached the peak. He had various virtues—powerful strength, meticulous mind, tactful management—that helped him establish an absolute prestige in the Fallen Leaves City Guild of Magic. Almost everyone thought that he’d be a strong candidate for the next president. Even the then-president of the guild had once said in public that once he stepped down, Rosen would be the one to oversee the Fallen Leaves City Guild of Magic.

However, Rosen made a surprising decision at that time.

He gave up his position of the future president of the guild and applied to the Supreme Council in the hope of entering the library to study. With his position in the Fallen Leaves City Guild of Magic at that time, the Supreme Council naturally could not refuse his request. Less than a month after the application was filed, Rosen was admitted into the library. He’d stayed there for three years, and by the time he’d left the library, he already had the strength of the level-18 Archmage.

Later, he’d received an invitation from the Supreme Council and entered into the center of power that all mages of Anril dreamed of. Over the next three decades, Rosen climbed higher and higher up the ladder at an astonishing speed with his own abilities. To this day, he remained one of the ten leaders in charge of tens of thousands of mages, and there was good chance that he could go one step further and become a new arbitrator in the near future.

But there was something odd about him. Rosen’s name had been heard in most parts of Anril. However, no one really knew exactly what kind of person Rosen was.

Others would more or less have some sort of desire. Even Andoine, someone who was indifferent to almost everything in the world, had a near-fanatical passion for pharmaceutics. But Rosen seemed like an ascetic. Apart from the most profound knowledge of magic, he would never be interested in anything else.

He did only two things after he was admitted into the Supreme Council. One was to accept Gryffindor as his disciple, and the second was to compete for the seat of the arbitrator. Other than that, he seemed to stay in his research room forever, dealing with all kinds of mageweaths.

“By the way, Gryffindor…” After answering these questions one by one, Rosen smiled again and asked Gryffindor with great interest, “I seem to have heard recently that another young Archmage was born in Alanna Guild of Magic?”

“Yes, Mentor.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay. He’s called Felic, probably about 19 to 21 years old. He’s from Jarrosus Guild of Magic. To be honest, he shouldn’t be considered a real Archmage with his strength. I’ve met him once two weeks ago. If I were to have a duel with him, I believe he wouldn’t be able to last more than 10 minutes.”

“Tell me where you got this confidence from…”

“If I’m not mistaken, this person’s strength does not belong to him. He had suddenly acquired it by virtue of some luck or other reason—I can clearly feel the magical wave emanating from him isn’t at all pure. In other words, he can’t manipulate his strength very well. And what’s important is that while he could acquire his strength at once, knowledge is different. Even though he has the strength of an Archmage, he doesn’t have enough time to learn the knowledge an Archmage should possess. He is far from being a real Archmage. I am confident of defeating such an opponent in 10 minutes.”

“Not bad, Gryffindor. You’ve become more meticulous.”

“Thank you.”

“But, you seem to forget something…” At this point, Rosen’s smile disappeared and was replaced with a somber expression. “What you’ve said happened two weeks ago. How can you be sure that he still hasn’t gotten a grasp of his own strength after two weeks?”

“Impossible, Mentor Rosen. I remember clearly that this fellow was only a level-nine mage at the start of the trial. It’s a six levels’ ascension from level-nine to level-15. Even the most impressive genius couldn’t have been able to adapt to such an incredible speed of improvement. Moreover, if he’s really a great genius, how could he still be stuck at level-nine at the age of 20? He should’ve broken through to the realm of the Magic Shooter with his own efforts, and not make the leap to an Archmage by a strange encounter.”

“That sounds like a good analysis. But if you were to go to the finals with this thought, you’d probably be inviting trouble to yourself…” Rosen smiled. He was generous with his patience to his only disciple. “Now, listen to my analysis. Perhaps you’ll change your mind after listening to me.”

“Yes.”

“From what you’ve said, this fellow has made the leap from level-nine straight to level-15. Yes, it’s a far cry. But you seem to have forgotten that the amount of mana a person can hold is limited. The stronger your mental strength, the more powerful your mana will be. The mana of an Archmage is almost 100 times that of a level-nine mage. Do you know what it means? If we were to liken magic to water, then a level-nine mage can only fill a small bottle, while an Archmage can fill a bucket. Think about it—what will happen if you force a bucket of water into a small bottle?”

“The bottle will burst…”

“That’s right. Then, can you tell me, did that Archmage called Felic burst?”

“No…” Gryffindor pondered, but was still unconvinced. “It could be because of luck…”

Rosen smiled. “You’re still insisting on luck. Gryffindor, I hope you remember that there has never been a really lucky person in the world. There is an inevitable principle behind every seemingly lucky encounter. The difference lies in whether you can grasp it. For the young man you’re talking about now, there could only be two reasons. One, he had concealed his strength when you first met him. Second, he has a terribly strong mental strength, and possessed the mental strength of an Archmage at level-nine.”

Gryffindor was shocked when he heard what Rosen said. He was about to open his mouth to make a response when he heard Rosen’s voice coming from the other end again. “In either case, I’m afraid it’s not good news for you. There’s nothing to say about concealing his strength. It wasn’t a big deal that he managed to hide it from you, but he managed to hide it from Aldwin. Did it not cross your mind how he could conceal it so well? As for the second possibility… It’s even more terrifying to think about it. Mental strength is the most important thing to a mage. If one has a unique advantage in mental strength, then he’s an out-and-out magic genius. This advantage will give him inestimable edge in a battle between two mages. He’ll have a faster spell-casting speed and a faster mana recovery time. He can even ignore the danger of the bite of mana and impose powerful spells that you could never imagine. Such an opponent can’t be handled in 10 minutes…”

“Mentor, you mean, I should have a fight with him before the finals, just like how I did with Orrin?”

“No, no, no… I’ve never said that. Orrin and Felic are two different people. You should never put them together; otherwise, you’ll land yourself in hot water…”

“Why?” This time, Gryffindor was really astonished. He could admit that Felic was a genius. It was a fact that he was a 20-year-old Archmage, after all. This was something that he couldn’t deny. However, Gryffindor would never believe that he’d land himself in hot water if he laid a hand on Felic.

He was the number one magic genius in Felan, and a disciple of a Legendary-mage. He even held the position of a steward in the Guild of Magic. He was second only to Aldwin and Macklin, and held the same rank as Darian. What was Felic to him? He was merely a country boy. So what if he had the strength of an Archmage? So what if he was Macklin’s trial apprentice? Surely Macklin wouldn’t go all out with him over a trial apprentice? As for the Jarrosus Guild of Magic, they were too insignificant to be considered. What could that fat Gerian do? Only one word from his mentor would send that fatty straight back to Jarrosus!

“Are you thinking that you could confront him without a care for nobody because he’s a mage from Jarrosus, who’s got no background or status?”

Gryffindor did not speak, but the indifference on his face revealed all his thoughts.

“Gryffindor, it really didn’t occur to me that you’re still so filled with pride. Have you forgotten how you lost to Orrin back in Rotterdam Guild of Magic?”

“It was a moment of carelessness…”

“That’s a ridiculous excuse…” Rosen burst out laughing in the crystal ball. “Gryffindor, do you still remember how many forces had tried to scout you when you’ve just become an Archmage?”

“A lot.” Gryffindor’s voice was calm, but there was some pride on his face. This was something he was proud of. Since he became an Archmage, numerous forces had tried to pull him over to their side. Many of them were big figures who seldom showed their faces. Such a privilege was definitely one of a kind among young mages!

“Then have you ever thought how many forces Felic will attract, being an Archmage who’s even younger than you?”

The expression on Gryffindor’s face froze…

“Ugh…” He opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

“But, this is nothing…” Rosen suddenly chuckled at this point. “There’s still the finals, right?”

“You mean?”

“My meaning is simple. You must never lay a hand on Felic before the finals. But perhaps you can inflict some unrecoverable trauma on him using the excuse that your hand slipped or something along the line during the finals. It’ll be a pity, but it is allowed in the finals, after all…”

“I understand. But Mentor, didn’t you say that the lad was probably no weaker than me?”

“Indeed. But don’t forget, you’re Rosen’s disciple. How can I possibly let you lose in this finals? You can read the magic book I’ve given you the other time now. I’ve written a paragraph for you on the last page. Take a good look at that paragraph, and tell me what you should do after you’ve understood it.”

“Yes!”

Gryffindor returned to his room and took out a black-covered magic book from under his pillow. On the last page, there was a passage written by Rosen himself. Gryffindor’s eyes glowed brighter and brighter as he read through each and every word…

…

It was very late at night, but the lights were on in Lin Li’s room. He was looking up some information and making final preparations for the finals that’d take place the day after tomorrow.

After arriving in Alanna, Lin Li had never been this eager to win the finals as he was at present. Although he’d promised Gerian, Macklin, and Andoine that he would do his best in the finals, it was only because he couldn’t stand up to their demands. Even if he had given his promise, he held little regard for it in his heart. After all, a lazy and fearful fellow like him was not one to fight for glory.

But this time, Lin Li was serious.

Orrin was still lying in bed. He probably couldn’t make it for the finals that’d commence a day later. All this happened because of that fellow called Gryffindor.

Lin Li had been living with Orrin for two months. How could he not know that this young mage, who seemed indifferent to everything, really wanted to do well in the finals? Lin Li even remembered how Orrin had once said that he was from the Rotterdam Guild of Magic, a place more remote than Jarrosus. He hoped to clinch the first place in the finals to let people know that Rotterdam was not only a place rich in wheat, but also a place with powerful mages!

Unfortunately, he couldn’t take part in the finals now.

Other than wishing for his fast recovery, Lin Li could only win the finals on his behalf.

In front of Lin Li was a book titled Introduction to High Elves Print. He was struggling to find suitable common language to annotate the strange runes. In his other hand, he was holding the parchment scroll that Macklin gave him. He was attempting to translate the key words with his own efforts.

Perhaps this spell would be of some help in the finals two days later.

…

Matthias was meditating in the secret room of the Marathon Family. No one dared to disturb him at this time, for they knew that the finals that would take place two days later would determine who was the real magic genius in Felan.

“Come in, Argus.”

“Master Matthias, what can I do for you?” Argus felt unfamiliar with the man before him. In just a month, the changes on Matthias’ body could only be described as “earth-shaking”. Argus, who was once an Archmage, couldn’t help but feel surprised at the magical wave emanating from Matthias. It was simply too powerful. Even in his heyday, he couldn’t have emanated with such a magical wave.

But what Argus couldn’t imagine was the change in Matthias’ temperament.

To be honest, Matthias wasn’t at all likable in the past, but he was still respectful to him most of the time. After all, he was his mentor. But now, as he stood before Matthias, Argus felt chills all over his body, and it was as if he was being locked onto by a serpent’s stare. The eerie feeling made his hair stand on ends.

“Argus, have you prepared what I’ve asked you to prepare?”

“Yes, Master Matthias…” Argus swallowed his saliva and looked at Matthias in trepidation. Then he cautiously took out two magical crystals. “However, Master Matthias, the level-15 magical crystal you asked for is too rare. I have searched many places, but could only get two of them…”

“Two?” Matthias held the two magical crystals in his hand and felt the surging magical wave emanating from them. There was a faint smile on his pale face. “One each for the two Archmages. It should be enough…”

Argus’ heart tightened at the mention of the two Archmages. He knew whom Matthias was talking about. He was talking about the two Archmages in the Alanna Guild of Magic—one was Felan’s number one magic genius, Gryffindor, and the other was Felic, whom he had once attempted to assassinate.

He could no longer see through the present Matthias. He could only guess from his expression that these two magical crystals were specially used to deal with the two Archmages.

This isn’t good…

Argus stood there respectfully, but he was in fact feeling anxious. Argus couldn’t care less if Gryffindor died; he knew nothing about the latter anyway. But Felic could not die. He was still counting on Felic to restore his mana. If he died, wouldn’t he have to stay a Magic Shooter for the rest of his life?

At the thought of this, Argus plucked up his courage, and asked, “Master Matthias, do you have a special use for these two magical crystals? If two pieces are not enough, I can try to find another way to help you get two more pieces…”

“You’ll know in two days.” Fortunately, Matthias seemed to be distracted. Although there were some flaws in Argus’ words, it did not arouse his suspicion. He just held the two magical crystals tightly, and his eyes were full of hatred and irony. “Archmages, eh? I’m going to show you this time that there’s another Archmage besides the two of you…”