Outside the warehouse, the midday sun was a little glaring.
Tylen sat on the rickety handcart, turning a dark red pebble over in his hand. He had picked it up beside one of the gangsters' corpses. It looked like the remains of some shoddy protective charm.
He hadn't had to wait long.
About ten minutes later, a rush of hurried, disorderly footsteps came from the mouth of the alley.
"Hurry up! It's just ahead! That thing's still inside!"
Black Glass's voice was thick with barely concealed terror.
Tylen lifted his head and calmly surveyed the unexpected visitors.
Black Glass was at their head.
His left arm was wrapped in thick bandages, with blood seeping through them. He had clearly been injured in the chaos earlier.
Behind him followed five thugs in leather armor, each carrying a cleaver. They all looked tense, as if facing a formidable enemy.
And beside Black Glass was a young man wearing a gray wizard's robe.
He looked to be around thirty, with a shock of messy blond hair like a bird's nest. In his hand was a short Magic Staff set with a cheap amethyst.
Though he looked rather unkempt, the magical fluctuations emanating from him were undeniably real.
"Sir, this has nothing to do with me!"
Black Glass ran as he pleaded, spittle flying.
"That old bastard wanted to die! Who knew he'd turn into a monster after he was dead? Mr. Ars, you have to save us!"
Ars, the young Wizard, shot him a cold glance. His voice was as icy as if he were scolding a dog.
"Shut up. How many times have I told you? Collecting protection money is fine, but don't take things too far."
"Too much resentment attracts the attention of the Abyss. If a corpse changes, useless trash like you can't handle it."
"Yes, yes, you're right, sir..." Black Glass bobbed his head and bowed, a far cry from his earlier arrogance.
Just then, they rounded a corner and spotted Tylen sitting on the handcart, looking utterly unruffled.
Black Glass's pupils suddenly widened.
"You?!"
Old grudges and fresh anger surged through him all at once.
If that Corpse Collector brat hadn't gotten in the way yesterday, Old Jack would have been taken care of already, and none of this would have happened.
And just now, in the warehouse, the brat had even dared to ignore his cries for help!
"Damn you! I'll kill you!"
Black Glass roared. With his only uninjured hand, he swung a fist at Tylen's head without a word.
The punch came with a rush of wind. He was clearly aiming to kill.
As far as he was concerned, Tylen was just a Corpse Collector with a bit of muscle, still a weakling in the face of real violence.
But he was wrong.
Very wrong.
Tylen remained seated on the handcart without even shifting his weight.
His eyes narrowed slightly, a cold glint flashing within them.
Asking for death.
He silently recited the words, and Mana surged in an instant.
[Magic Thorn Art]
Buzz!
A faint humming sound rang out.
Ars, standing behind the others, paled. His keen senses as a Wizard Apprentice let him detect the magical fluctuation at once.
"Stop! There's magic—"
But his warning came too late.
Tylen's left hand shot up like lightning, fingers pressed together. A nearly invisible, transparent edge formed along the side of his palm.
With no unnecessary movement, he simply swept his hand.
Pfft!
It was like a hot knife slicing through butter.
Black Glass's thick arm, swinging in a wide arc toward Tylen, suddenly split in two in midair.
Blood gushed out, as if a high-pressure faucet had been turned on.
"Argh!!!"
Black Glass didn't react until his severed arm hit the ground with a dull thud.
Clutching the spurting stump, he let out a shriek like a slaughtered pig and staggered backward. His face was filled with horrified disbelief.
He hadn't seen what happened at all.
One moment, his vision blurred; the next, his hand was gone.
"W-what kind of dark magic is that?!"
The thugs around him were stunned, too. Their hands trembled around their cleavers, and none dared take a step forward.
Tylen slowly lowered his hand and casually flicked the few drops of blood that hadn't yet congealed from his fingertips.
His expression remained calm, as if he'd just sliced through a dead branch instead of a person's arm.
"Sir."
Tylen lifted his head, looking past the screaming Black Glass and straight at the blond young man.
"Don't you think the Red Wine Gang is being a little too domineering?"
Ars said nothing.
He stared hard at Tylen's seemingly ordinary palm, his eyes full of wariness.
The sharpness unleashed in that instant had even surpassed that of a conventional Level 1 Wind Blade!
"Treat the wound first."
Ars took a deep breath and waved his Magic Staff.
An invisible force of Mana lifted the severed arm from the ground and pressed it precisely against Black Glass's wound.
"Healing Light."
As he uttered an obscure incantation, a gentle white light enveloped the wound.
Granulation tissue wriggled, and blood vessels reconnected.
In just a dozen seconds, the horrific wound on Black Glass's arm miraculously stopped bleeding and healed. A hideous scar remained, but at least the arm had been saved.
Some kind of healing spell, it seems.
Tylen assessed it quietly. At his current level, he knew very little about magic. All he knew was that spells were divided into ten levels of power, with Level 1 the lowest and Level 10 the highest.
He had no idea how the levels were determined. He didn't even know which level his Magic Thorn Art belonged to.
But he could be sure of one thing: anyone who could use this kind of healing magic had genuine skill and was probably an important figure in the gang.
After treating the injury, Ars turned around and looked at Tylen gravely.
"I'm Ars, from Winter Glow Town, a Level 6 Wizard Apprentice. Who are you, sir?"
A Level 6 Apprentice.
To Tylen, that was already an unreachable existence.
Tylen stood up, brushed the dust from his robe, and gave the standard greeting between Wizards.
"Magnus, of Cain Tower. Just an ordinary Corpse Collector Apprentice."
"Ordinary?"
Ars's eye twitched.
He remembered what Black Glass had said on the way over: that this brat was just a penniless nobody with no connections.
The hell he was!
What penniless nobody could casually cast such a precise, concealed spell?
What Corpse Collector Apprentice could face a scene like this without changing expression?
"I've never seen a Corpse Collector Apprentice who could use such a sharp spell," Ars probed.
Tylen shrugged, his tone easygoing.
"In this line of work, you need a few ways to protect yourself. Otherwise, that Black Glass fellow would have beaten me to death just now, wouldn't he?"
Black Glass's face was deathly pale. He clutched his newly reattached arm and, at those words, shrank even farther behind Ars.
He regretted it so much his guts were in knots.
If he'd known this brat was a ruthless one pretending to be weak, he wouldn't have dared lay a hand on him, even if he'd had ten times the courage!
In this world, those who could use magic and those who couldn't were practically different species.
The former were hunters; the latter, prey.
Ars gave Tylen a long look but didn't press the issue.
"What are you doing on our Red Wine Gang's turf?"
"Keeping my promise."
Tylen turned, took a package from the pile of odds and ends on the handcart, and tossed it over.
Ars caught it by reflex.
"These are the hundred Runic Frames I promised to draw for Black Glass."
Tylen's voice turned cold. His gaze pierced through to Black Glass, hiding behind the others.
"They're the payment for him agreeing to spare Old Jack's wife's corpse."
"Some people may break their word, but I, Magnus, don't. I do what I say."
Hearing that, Ars put together what had happened from Black Glass's account on the way over and immediately understood the whole story.
He shot Black Glass a furious glare.
Useless fool! You couldn't get anything done without making a mess!
Over two corpses, he'd gotten so many of his men killed and offended a Wizard Apprentice with enormous potential!
Ars opened the package and pulled out a few sheets of rune paper.
The next moment, his pupils contracted.
He was stunned.
These weren't merely acceptable. They were works of art!
Every line flowed naturally, every node was precise, and the layout of the Mana circuits was even more perfect than the textbook examples.
The penmanship, the command of rune structures...
Ars had to admit that even he, a Level 6 Apprentice, couldn't manage something like this!
"Did... did you draw all these?" Ars asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"Mm."
Tylen gave a casual reply, then climbed back onto the handcart and picked up the reins.
"I've dealt with Old Jack's evil spirit. There are four corpses on the cart now."
"Use these Runic Frames to cover the corpses of Old Jack and his wife."
"The other two belong to your men. Consider them payment for cleaning up your mess."
With that, he flicked the reins without even glancing at Ars.
"Giddy-up!"
The old horse moved off, and the handcart began to roll.
"Wait!"
Ars suddenly stepped forward and blocked the cart.
This time, the coldness and arrogance were gone from his face. In their place was a warm smile.
"Apprentice Magnus, don't rush off."
"Perhaps there was a misunderstanding. I never meant you any harm."
Ars was a clever man.
Tylen's unhurried manner, his stunning hand-blade spell, and his precise rune-drawing skills all proved one thing: this young man was no ordinary talent.
The Old Mine was, after all, right under Cain Wizard Tower. Making the acquaintance of someone who might one day become an Official Wizard was absolutely worth the investment.
"A misunderstanding?"
Tylen tightened the reins and looked down at Ars, a mocking curve tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I'd been looking forward to working with your gang on corpse retrieval."
"But unfortunately, I don't give second chances to people who break their word and fail to keep their promises."
The words were harsh.
But their very harshness showed how confident he was.
Ars's heart tightened, but he smiled as he spoke.
"I understand your anger, sir. Black Glass is an ignorant fool. I'll deal with him according to the gang's rules when we get back."
"Rest assured. I'll be your contact from now on."
"I recognize your talent and your value. I believe we can build a very promising partnership."
Tylen didn't answer at once.
He watched Ars quietly, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee as though weighing the pros and cons.
In truth, he was already delighted.
This was exactly the effect he'd wanted.
Display his strength to cow the small fry, show off his skill to raise his worth, then play hard to get and keep the initiative firmly in his hands.
The timing was about right.
The chill in Tylen's face eased slightly, and he followed up by saying:
"It's an honor that you think so highly of me, Lord Ars."
"I believe that, as a Level Six apprentice, you must be far more noble than those thugs and riffraff."
Hearing this, Ars breathed a sigh of relief, his smile growing brighter.
"Of course."
"Now that we've cleared up the misunderstanding, as the first step in our partnership..."
Ars waved the rune paper in his hand, a glint flashing in his eyes.
"Could you draw another hundred Runic Frames of this quality for me today?"
"In return, I can pay you 50 Purple Gold Coins."
50 Purple Gold Coins.
Tylen quickly did the math.
On the market, a regular apprentice would charge about 30 Purple Gold Coins to draw a hundred basic frames. Ars's offer was nearly double that.
It was a remarkably generous deal.
"If you can provide the rune paper."
Tylen nodded and held out his right hand.
"I can accept the deal."
"Deal!"
Ars clasped Tylen's hand with a smile.
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