Magic Crystal

That red gemstone had a strange aura, which was why Roland kept it close to him.

Although he didn't know how Bronson had sensed its presence through his clothes, now that the other party had discovered it, Roland felt there was no point in hiding it any longer.

Moreover, he himself was full of questions about the origin of this gemstone.

After all, the scene of the Blood Scale Kobold spontaneously combusting that day was too bizarre, and it still made him uneasy to think about it.

Shaking his head gently to dispel the image in his mind, Roland reached into his embrace, took out the gemstone, and slowly handed it over.

"Mister Bronson, are you referring to this?"

"H-how is this possible?"

Bronson's pupils contracted sharply, his gaze locked onto the gemstone, his expression shifting rapidly.

From initial confusion to disbelief and shock, finally settling into deep suspicion.

"Forgive my presumption."

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly.

"May I take a closer look, Roland?"

"Of course, Mister Bronson."

With permission granted, Bronson took the red gemstone with slightly trembling hands, suppressed the surging waves of emotion within him, and carefully turned the stone over, his eyes intently examining every facet.

A moment later, he suddenly stopped, his brow furrowed deeply.

The texture and luster of this gemstone were exactly as described in the tower's ancient texts that he had read in his youth.

"Where did you find it?"

Bronson asked dryly, deliberately keeping his voice steady.

"I found it on a mutated Kobold..."

Roland omitted some details and briefly recounted the events of that day.

When he mentioned the scales and the flames, he noticed a subtle change in Bronson's expression.

"Scales... flames..."

Bronson muttered, looking down, his fingers unconsciously stroking the surface of the gemstone.

"Mister Bronson..."

Seeing his absentminded state, Roland couldn't help but frown.

"What exactly is this gemstone?"

"Hoo..."

Bronson let out a long sigh and slowly raised his head, the turmoil in his eyes now calm.

He pursed his lips, as if choosing his words carefully.

After a moment of thought, he explained softly.

"This is a crystal solidified from Magical Essences."

"Magical Essences?"

The unfamiliar term puzzled Roland.

But Bronson didn't elaborate further. Instead, he handed the red gemstone back, a strained smile on his lips.

"Come in first."

He turned and walked into the house, his voice carrying an undisguised weariness.

"You came all this way to see me, it can't just be about this gemstone, can it?"

Seeing this, Roland could only suppress his doubts for the moment and followed him into the room.

The door closed gently behind them. The dim candlelight flickered in the small space, casting their shadows on the mottled walls.

Roland untied the parcel he was carrying in his left hand, took out the uniquely shaped dagger, and handed it over with both hands.

"Mister Bronson, the dagger you commissioned me to craft is complete."

"Oh?"

Bronson, who had been sitting in a chair, massaging his temples, suddenly looked up. He carefully took the dagger, examining it closely in the dim candlelight.

When he looked up again, a look of disbelief flashed in his tired eyes.

"I thought Mister Hawk's praise of you was just flattery, but I didn't expect..."

His fingers gently traced the intricate patterns on the cylindrical body of the dagger.

"You managed to complete the Forging in less than two months, and these patterns..."

Bronson's voice trembled slightly, a rare flicker of excitement crossing his face.

"Did you carve them all by hand?"

"Of course, Mister Bronson."

Sensing something unusual about Bronson, Roland frowned and instinctively took half a step back.

"Are there problems with these patterns?"

"No, quite the opposite. You've done it too perfectly."

As if realizing his lapse in composure, Bronson took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, yet his fingers still unconsciously caressed the patterns on the dagger.

"I just didn't expect you could achieve this level."

Silence spread through the dimly lit room.

A moment later, Bronson suddenly looked up, a hard-to-describe longing flashing in his eyes.

"Roland, how about we make another deal?"

"Deal?"

"Like before."

Bronson licked his dry lips.

"My research has recently hit a bottleneck, and I happen to need an assistant. In exchange, I can answer all your questions about that Magic Crystal, and..."

Seeing Roland didn't respond immediately, he hastily jumped up from his chair and stumbled towards the bookshelf in the corner.

Yellowed parchment and ancient books were roughly flipped through by him, dust dancing in the candlelight.

In the blink of an eye, a stack of yellowed ancient books was piled before Roland.

The covers of these books had long faded, covered in cobweb-like cracks, and the script inscribed on them resembled twisted tadpoles, completely different from the neat Common Tongue of the Golden Valley Kingdom.

Roland squinted, only managing to vaguely make out the word "theory" from the bizarre symbols.

"As for me..."

Bronson suddenly pulled at the corner of his mouth in self-deprecation, revealing a bitter smile.

"The only thing I can really offer is that I've read a few more broken books than the average person."

He raised his bloodshot eyes and said with a hint of earnestness:

"So, if you're willing to be my assistant for a while, I can answer all your questions without reservation. What do you think of this deal?"

He gently stroked the ancient books and continued.

"These are books I've treasured for a long time. Believe me, the contents will definitely be of great help to you."

Roland fell silent.

The candlelight flickered in his deep brown pupils, reflecting his inner struggle.

Frankly, such a deal might not seem worthwhile to others.

But for Roland at this moment, it was like charcoal in winter.

Ever since inexplicably transmigrating to this world, all the original host had left him was an undernourished body and the useless identity of a freeman.

He was like a blind man, only able to piece together his understanding of this world from the snippets of conversation from others.

He had originally planned to establish himself first, then slowly explore this unfamiliar world.

But after encountering the Kobolds, that naive idea was completely shattered.

That incident made him suddenly realize that this world might be more dangerous than he imagined, and he probably wouldn't have much time to explore slowly.

As for Bronson's profound knowledge, Roland had already experienced it firsthand during his time studying under him.

Having made up his mind, Roland looked up and asked solemnly:

"Then, Mr. Bronson, as your assistant, what specific tasks will I be responsible for?"

"The work is very simple!"

Seeing Roland agree, Bronson unconsciously rubbed his hands, a hint of undisguised joy flashing in his eyes.

He straightened his habitually hunched back slightly, and a rare spark of vitality appeared on his usually downcast face.

"But before that," he said, pointing to the red crystal in Roland's palm.

"I think... I should first answer your questions about this Magic Crystal."

Bronson cleared his throat lightly and began to speak in a steady tone.

"Roland, I assume you've read about the title 'Wizard' in those novels people read for entertainment?"

"Of course."

After receiving an affirmative answer, Bronson continued.

"What Wizards are most famous for are their magical and strange spells, but..."

He tapped the wooden table lightly with his knuckles, the crisp tapping sound accompanying his narration.

"To cast spells, one must draw Magical Essences from the environment. However, hundreds of years ago, the Magical Essences in the world suddenly and inexplicably disappeared, and the group known as Wizards faded from public view..."

"Then this crystal..."

Upon hearing this, Roland immediately spread his palm, revealing the faintly glowing red crystal.

He clearly remembered that Bronson had indeed called it just now...

A solidified crystal of Magical Essences.