The air was filled with the scent of expensive violet perfume. Rich but not cloying, it carried an imperious, aggressive edge that instantly overwhelmed the faint smell of corpses and preservatives in the classroom.
Tylen's heart gave a sudden thump, but he lowered his head even further.
Violet Star.
That name was famous throughout Cain Wizard Tower—and among apprentices across the entire Seven Towers Alliance.
She was a half-blood of the High Elves and humans, possessing the long lifespan of the Elf Race and the exceptional learning ability of humans.
As Mentor Makley's most prized student, she had already advanced to a second-level Official Wizard at the age of nineteen.
Unlike Tylen, who specialized in the Spirit Summoning Control Method, Violet Star had inherited another of the core disciplines in Makley's teachings: the Spirit Weaving Method.
The former focused on enslaving and controlling souls, following the path of the undead legion;
the latter focused on Runic Studies and fine manipulation. Its core was to use spirit as the needle and mana as the thread, weaving, altering, and even reshaping all things.
A year ago, she had represented Cain Wizard Tower in the Alliance's Rising Stars Assessment.
With her "Living Flesh Weaving Technique," she had stunned the crowd and claimed fourth place, securing a massive allocation of resources for the tower for the coming year.
It was no exaggeration to say that, besides his own strength as a seventh-level Wizard, this genius disciple had played a vital role in allowing Makley to remain firmly in control amid the tower's many factions.
"Word gets around quickly, doesn't it?"
Makley looked at his beloved disciple, and a rare, affectionate smile appeared on his stern face.
"Of course."
Violet Star removed her delicate purple pointed hat and casually straightened her lustrous black hair, which shimmered like the galaxy. There was a hint of careless arrogance in her voice:
"Information might travel at a snail's pace in our Wizard Tower, but when it comes to competing for resources at the bottom, or someone trying to stir up infighting, the news spreads faster than the wind."
With that, her pale violet eyes swept over Tylen again.
This time, there was less curiosity in her gaze and more scrutiny.
Tylen knew exactly what he should do.
He stepped forward, crossed his hands over his chest, and gave a flawless apprentice's bow. His voice was calm and measured:
"Greetings, Senior Sister Violet Star. I'm Tyron Arthas Magnus, Mentor's Corpse Collector Apprentice."
"It's an honor to meet the legendary 'Violet Star.'"
Violet Star gave a soft "hm" and didn't spare him another glance for the compliment.
In the eyes of a second-level Wizard, a level-zero apprentice was no different from a weed by the roadside.
She walked straight past Tylen to the two open corpse cases.
Extending a slender finger, she pointed from a distance. A faint ripple of mana swept across the Runic Frame at the severed limbs.
"An Ian Rune Runic Frame..."
Violet Star nodded slightly as she gave her assessment:
"Your strokes are too soft, and the curves at the turns still need work. But..."
She turned her head and glanced at Tylen:
"You're certainly serious. Leaving such a standard guidance interface on these low-quality corpses at least shows you've got a clear head."
With that, she flicked her wrist. A scroll that smelled distinctly of parchment appeared out of nowhere and floated lightly toward Tylen.
"Since you're in charge of collecting corpses, that works out perfectly."
"Find me three corpses that meet the specifications on this list."
"The budget is 2,000 Purple Gold Coins. Return whatever you don't spend, and make up the difference if you go over. Do well, and there'll be a reward. Mess it up..."
Violet Star didn't say what would happen. She merely curled her lips into a meaningful smile.
Then she bowed elegantly to Makley. "Mentor, I won't keep you from your lesson."
"I'll come to your laboratory tonight. There are a few things I'd like to ask you about 'Spirit Reverse Weaving.'"
"Go ahead." Makley waved his hand.
Accompanied by a waft of perfume, the haughty senior sister left the classroom with the same graceful steps she'd arrived with.
Only after her footsteps had faded completely did Tylen catch the parchment still floating in midair.
2,000 Purple Gold Coins!
That was a fortune.
An ordinary corpse cost only a few dozen gold coins.
But he showed no greed—not even opening the scroll right away. Instead, he turned to Makley, his eyes silently seeking instruction.
"Do as your senior sister asked."
Makley said calmly, "She's my pride and joy, and a model for all of you. Getting the chance to help her is an opportunity."
"Yes, Mentor." Tylen respectfully tucked the parchment into his robes.
When the clock hands pointed to nine sharp,
noisy footsteps and laughter finally came from outside the corridor.
The young masters and ladies born with silver spoons in their mouths had finally arrived.
They wore finely tailored robes and carried Magic Staffs studded with gems, gathering in small groups as if they were attending a social tea party rather than coming to class.
"Have you heard? Something happened near the Lucky Star Tavern yesterday."
A fat man in a dark red velvet robe spoke animatedly. "That guy from our tower, Kyle, got into a rivalry over a dancer with a fire-element apprentice from the Blazing Sun Wizard Tower. They ended up on the dueling platform."
"What happened?" one of his companions asked.
"What do you think? He got blasted into a charred husk by a single 'Explosive Fireball'! They didn't even leave a whole corpse behind."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk."
A shrill female voice cut in. It was Jane.
She had her usual immaculate makeup on and held a new folding fan in her hand. Her face was openly scornful:
"What an embarrassment. Kyle always looked so pathetic. He couldn't even afford a decent defensive magical artifact, and he still dared to pick a fight with people from the Blazing Sun Tower?"
"Good riddance. At least he won't drag down the average standards of Cain Tower."
"Exactly. He had no ability and still tried to compete for a woman. What a waste of air."
The girls beside her joined in, laughing like tinkling bells.
Tylen stood in the corner with his head lowered, his face expressionless.
This was the Wizarding World for you.
To these people, a classmate's death was no more than a topic of idle conversation.
Being weak was a sin, and being poor was a crime punishable by death.
There was no sympathy, only naked admiration for the strong and ridicule for the defeated.
Just then, Jane's gaze swept across the front of the classroom and suddenly stopped.
Her brow furrowed at once, as if she'd spotted a fly crawling on a fancy cake.
"Why are you still here?"
Jane pointed her folding fan at Tylen, her voice shrill and grating:
"This is the classroom for the elite Rune class! Who let this stinking Corpse Collector in? He's polluting the air!"
The young masters and ladies around them all cast disgusted looks his way.
In their eyes, a lowly servant like Tylen belonged in the sewers or the Morgue.
His mere presence in a refined classroom filled with scholarly air was an affront to their class.
Tylen kept his head lowered, as though he were deaf, ignoring Jane's accusation completely.
Arguing with a stupid woman like her would only lower his own intelligence.
Just as Jane was about to call someone over to throw Tylen out, a crisp tapping sound came from the podium.
Knock, knock.
The mithril pointer in Makley's hand tapped lightly against the blackboard.
The sound wasn't loud, but it came with a heart-chilling mental pressure that swept across the room in an instant.
The noisy classroom fell silent at once. You could hear a pin drop.
Jane's face turned pale. She immediately shut her mouth and shrank back a little in fear.
"Class is in session."
Makley swept his gaze coldly over the room. His eyes rested on Jane for a second before he ignored everyone's objections to Tylen's presence.
"Today's topic is—Weaving Runes."
The moment they heard those words, everyone understood.
The Mentor had allowed the Corpse Collector Apprentice to stand there.
Though they were displeased, no one dared to provoke Makley at such a moment.
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