Sinkhole

Although Du Pont did not want to stir up trouble at a time like this, that did not mean he was a pushover.

In the academy dormitories, these guys probably would not dare cast spells to kill anyone. Still, they had the numbers, so he should find someone weaker to pick on.

Who should he pick?

"Yo, isn't this Big Donkey?" Just as Du Pont's expression darkened and he prepared to strike first, the person who had been glaring at him sneered, "Why are you so free? Here to show off again?"

"Heh, what's that supposed to mean?" Du Pont was full of question marks and had no idea what the other guy was talking about. Still, despite having the advantage in numbers, they had not attacked directly. They probably did not want to start a conflict either.

Perhaps because of his physique, Du Pont stood head and shoulders above the other apprentices, nearly half a head taller than average.

His muscles were not particularly large, but if a fight really broke out, with his height and long legs, he was not afraid at all.

If they went soft, he would go hard. Du Pont frowned impatiently. "I'm just getting some hot water to wipe myself down. Move aside if you've got nothing better to do. Don't block the way."

The man's expression turned ugly, but he did not stop him. Du Pont swaggered over to the boiler, though from the corner of his eye, he kept a close watch on the guys behind him.

He did not want to get shoved into the hot water after filling his bucket. Even if it did not kill him, it would strip off a layer of skin.

Fortunately, his worst fears did not come true. Once those people saw that he really was just fetching water, they stopped paying attention to him. They merely stared at one another, probably communicating through Message.

"Make way." After filling the bucket, Du Pont pressed himself against the wall and called out to them. The person in front gave an unhappy snort, but still moved aside and opened a path for him.

Standing in the middle made it too easy to get surrounded. Sticking to the wall was much safer.

Du Pont walked neither too quickly nor too slowly. When he drew level with them, every muscle in his body tensed instinctively. He even raised the wooden bucket slightly, ready to throw the water at any moment.

But the worst did not happen. After walking three meters away, Du Pont finally let out a breath of relief.

Fuck, that scared the hell out of me.

But what the hell were those guys doing here? As far as he remembered, the Mage Academy did not care about something as trivial as smoking.

The academy's biggest requirement for apprentices was turning in their assigned items on time. It had almost no demands regarding personal conduct. The greatest restrictions were that fighting and casting hostile spells on others were forbidden. Even if they went wild during breaks, no one would care.

After all, this was a world stuck somewhere between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. People his age were already getting married. The city was full of brothels and gangs. As long as they paid taxes, their business was legal.

After grumbling inwardly for a while, Du Pont returned to his room, took off his clothes, and began washing himself. His eyes immediately grew moist.

He finally understood why those idiots called him Big Donkey.

His shaft—ah, no, his static talent was completely off the charts!

No wonder he was unpopular. No wonder he had such an embarrassing nickname. Having something like that would not necessarily make people hate him, but the old Du Pont had been a teenager. Maybe he liked showing it off. It was perfectly normal for people to look down on him.

But compared to such tangible weight, what did that little bit of humiliation matter?

This was absolutely his most precious asset!

In high spirits as he cleaned himself, Du Pont began considering other matters.

Du Pont clearly did not have a girlfriend. He possessed such a formidable weapon, yet had nowhere to use it. At most, he could show off and compare sizes with others in the bathhouse. What a waste of resources.

But who was he? A modern man from the twenty-first century. He had experienced that dazzling world of neon lights and seen all kinds of strange things online. With such natural gifts, leaving them unused would be an insult to the capital fate had given him.

What was more, he looked pretty good. Girls usually even took the initiative to ask him to attend class with them. In his experience, they were the kind of girls he could hook with a few sweet words and a crooked finger.

Then again, that did not seem quite right. Annie had said at noon that she would lend him a scroll, but it was nearly dark and she still had not come. It seemed he might not even be worth a scroll in her eyes.

She really did not know quality when she saw it!

The advantage of his body put him in a good mood. Du Pont gathered his thoughts and sat down at the table, pulling out parchment with lofty ambition.

There was no use worrying about money right now. Improving his own strength was far more important.

This was a dangerous world, after all. If he could honestly raise his mage level at the academy, that would naturally be best. Even if he never went adventuring, every level he gained would cause his earning ability to soar. The return on investment was so much higher than graduate school that there was simply no comparison.

Once he was strong enough, he could try going out on adventures, taking bounty missions, and searching for treasure. With any luck, he might pay off his debt after only a few trips.

However, just as Du Pont cleared his mind and was about to write, he noticed something was wrong.

This bottle of ink smelled very different from the one he had used in the training grounds.

He stared at the ink bottle for several seconds, and a description appeared.

Daitou Goose Ink: Ink commonly used by apprentices of Haluar. Cheap and gentle in magical power, it can easily preserve writing for over twenty years. One bottle normally lasts an apprentice one to two months. Price: 1 gold coin per bottle.

System, how much worse is this ink than the ink I used in the training grounds?

The ink used in the training grounds was Magic Blood Ink, made from magically infused blood mixed with elemental essences. It is favored by the vast majority of mages and sells for 30 gold coins per bottle.

Du Pont immediately had a bad feeling.

A thirtyfold difference in price did not necessarily mean the two inks differed by thirty times, but even if the difference was only twofold, the effort he would need to put in would probably be on an entirely different level.

Then the parchment I used when copying scrolls in the training grounds was first-circle parchment, right?

After receiving a definite answer, Du Pont finally relaxed.

If the materials used in the earlier simulation had also been high-grade goods, then his previous experience would have been completely useless.

Forget it. Thinking about it was less useful than trying it himself. How much worse could it be?

He first cast Mage Armor to get himself into the right state, then struck a match and lit the candle to avoid being affected by the sunset. Once everything was ready, Du Pont picked up a quill. He wrote several times on already ruined parchment, adjusting the ink marks to their most perfect state before beginning.

Deep-blue ink left magically infused characters across the parchment. Arcane energy flowed within them. Thirty minutes later, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, looked at the scroll before him, and let out a long breath.

Success!

Rubbing his temples tiredly, Du Pont closed his eyes. How long did it take me to copy this scroll in the training grounds?

12 minutes and 46 seconds.

A difference of nearly two and a half times?

Du Pont could accept that result, but it reminded him of something else.

Charles had said that it took him nearly an hour to copy a scroll. Judging by where he sat, Charles should have been slightly stronger than Du Pont. That claim was probably watered down.

It seemed that little fatty was not so honest after all.

Just as Du Pont was about to keep up the momentum and copy another scroll, a system prompt made him stop writing.

You successfully copied a first-circle *Mage Armor* spell scroll. Experience Points consumed: 10.

What?!