A Saint's Weakness

[Magic Resistance D-]

Cedric put another round of Enhancement Points into the ability.

At first, he noticed a change in his skin. He raised a hand and saw that the pores on its back had visibly shrunk, while the fine hairs had grown so faint they were almost invisible.

In short, his skin had become finer.

The large pores common among white people had smoothed out considerably, improving his overall appearance along with them.

But that was only a minor side effect of upgrading [Magic Resistance].

At D-, he still could not ignore D-rank magic entirely, but he could cut its damage by more than half. With the damage reduction [Magic Resistance] already provided, an ordinary D-rank spell would barely feel worse than a scratch.

When the enhancement was done, Cedric had 400 Enhancement Points left.

In the past, that would have been enough to make him happy for days. Back then, his balance had often been in the single digits. When had he ever seen this many?

But looking at the skill tree now, 400 points were nowhere near enough.

[Magic Resistance D-] upgrade cost: 4,000 points.

[Physique Enhancement D-]: 1,000 points.

[Neural Reflex Enhancement D-]: 1,000 points.

[Aura Concealment D-]: 500 points.

[Matter Traversal D-]: 1,000 points.

[Fire-Dragon Breath E]: 500 points.

[Basic Magic Mastery D-]: 5,000 points.

Beyond that, the cost of upgrading every ability would shoot up as though it had a rocket strapped to it.

Cedric was not too worried.

As long as he could still eat, knew what to eat, and was willing to keep eating, the Enhancement Points would come eventually. Being a little short now was no great matter.

The next morning, he left the Leaky Cauldron feeling refreshed.

Ron had given him that enormous sum this time, and Cedric's steps were steadier than they had been yesterday.

Xuanling was still asleep.

Cedric did not wake the Crow, leaving him in his cage.

Yesterday's batch of blood sausages had sold for 240 Galleons. Based on the usual costs, one bottle of Dragon Blood could bring in about 150 Galleons in profit.

A sixty-percent return was already quite good.

To keep anyone from coming after the fifty-thousand-Galleon bounty, Cedric activated [Aura Concealment].

With the ability active, almost nobody noticed him as he walked. One person even headed straight into him, as if he had not seen anyone ahead at all.

Fortunately, Cedric turned sideways in time and easily avoided the collision.

When he reached Abner's home, the man's attitude had finally improved. At least Cedric was no longer treated like empty air. He received the same treatment as any other customer.

Abner brought out three bottles of Dragon Blood.

"This is all I have left."

He told Cedric that if he wanted more, Abner would have to make another trip to the hunting grounds.

"Next time you go, could you bring back something else while you're at it?"

Cedric took the opportunity to add:

"Dragon Liver, for example. Or a dragon tenderloin."

Abner stared at him for a long time, his expression too complicated to read.

"I don't kill Fire-Dragons."

"Huh?"

Cedric blinked.

"If you don't kill Fire-Dragons, how did you get this Dragon Blood?"

"Knock one down, draw a little blood, then leave."

Abner said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world and spread his hands.

For a moment, Cedric did not know what to say.

"If you've already knocked it down, why not just kill it?"

"That would be illegal."

Abner answered with a perfectly straight face.

That was quite a thing to hear from a smuggler who also poached on the side.

By Abner's standards, he hardly counted as a poacher at all. What kind of poacher only drew blood instead of killing the animal, and took so little each time?

In the Muggle world, animals in nature reserves had more blood drawn for medical checks than he took.

Abner had his principles.

No matter how Cedric tried to persuade him, he refused to kill Fire-Dragons. It was just like when that rat had suggested he move to Knockturn Alley: no matter what anyone said, he would not budge.

Most people would probably take a man like that for a fool.

He would rather stay poor than break a rule that seemed to serve no purpose.

Cedric could not do that, and he did not entirely understand it, but he respected people who could.

Not everyone could suppress their stray thoughts and desires. Put someone like that in a story, and he would deserve to be called a saint.

Unfortunately, Cedric was no saint.

Give up his desires? He would sooner die.

But that raised another question.

How could someone who was practically living like a saint still be short of money?

If Abner cared about nothing, there was no reason for him to sneak into the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary to steal dragon blood.

On the Black Market, a pint of the stuff could fetch eighty Galleons. An unscrupulous merchant could even water it down and sell it to some unlucky fool on a street full of counterfeits.

Galleons had decent purchasing power, too.

An ordinary person could live quite comfortably on a dozen or so Galleons a month. But nothing about Abner's everyday life looked remotely comfortable.

He was clearly making money, so where was it all going?

The question went round and round in Cedric's head until he finally asked it outright.

Abner, who had shown little expression until then, immediately looked troubled. His whole face fell.

"It's nothing."

That was all he said.

Cedric did not believe him, of course.

If nothing was wrong, why did Abner look like he had been carrying a burden for years?

And Abner had said he used to be a Dragon Tamer, yet now he was dirt-poor. Cedric's mind immediately began making up stories.

Perhaps he had once had a lover, and the two of them had sworn to protect Fire-Dragons for life, only for his lover to suffer an accident and fall into a coma.

Perhaps someone had framed him, costing him his job and saddling him with a huge debt.

The terminal illnesses from Korean dramas, the false accusations from revenge stories, and the sudden downfalls from broken-engagement novels all got jumbled together in his head.

Of course, Cedric was only imagining things.

Reality was probably not that dramatic.

This was not some melodramatic novel, after all.