Disappointment

But they still had one last thing to test. "Relax. For the final test, you only need some magical affinity. The requirement isn't as high as it is for mental power. Even the affinity of an ordinary person will be enough. Don't worry, I don't think your luck is that bad," the middle-aged mage said, trying to get Allen to relax.

Hearing the mage's reassurance, Allen had a bad feeling. He hated anything to do with luck most of all, because his luck was often poor. The middle-aged mage took a sphere out of his robes, placed one hand on Allen's head, closed his eyes, and began silently reciting a spell. Allen felt nothing during the process, except that the surrounding mana seemed to gather around him.

Suddenly, the middle-aged mage spoke. "What? Th-this... This is impossible. How could someone like this exist in this world? You're practically the existence Elune despises most." The moment Allen heard those words, he inwardly cried out in alarm. He hurriedly asked the mage, "Sir, what exactly is wrong?"

The middle-aged mage could not believe it. He told Allen, "Boy, do you realize you don't have the slightest magical affinity? Not even a trace. Even when I try to force mana into your body, it won't go in at all. This isn't a matter of having poor affinity. You have none whatsoever." Allen could not believe the middle-aged mage's words either. He simply stood there, stunned.

"Say, boy, are you carrying anything that blocks mana? Hurry and take it out. I'll test you again," the middle-aged mage told Allen. But Allen answered dejectedly, "I'm sorry, sir. I haven't brought anything. If there's anything at all, it would have to be these clothes." For the test today, he had deliberately left all his belongings at the inn.

The middle-aged mage sighed, patted his shoulder, and said ruefully, "Elune has truly been cruel to you, giving you such powerful mental strength without granting you the slightest magical affinity." With that, he simply left. The promised introduction to an Archmage naturally came to nothing.

Allen did not even know how he had made it back to the inn. He had struggled all the way from his hometown to Dalaran, narrowly escaping death several times along the road. After finally reaching Dalaran, he had been told that he could never become a mage. What blow could compare to this? He felt utterly miserable. At last, he understood how his classmates who had failed the college entrance examination back then had felt. It was like a bolt from the blue.

He spent an entire day languishing in his room, neither eating nor drinking, simply sitting there in a daze. In the end, he stood up, opened the door, and brought in the food that had been left outside. He drew a deep breath, constantly telling himself to pull himself together.

After finishing the meal, which tasted like wax in his mouth, Allen opened his backpack and considered when to set off for home. But when he saw the Charged Staff, he suddenly realized that although he could not become a mage, he could still use a staff to cast spells. He could not be a mage, but there were other classes to choose from. Even if it was only the most ordinary Warrior, he still had a chance.

He forced himself to rally and completely abandoned his plan to go home. He had to make something of himself. He had to become a powerful class wielder. He would never resign himself to giving up like this.

Having shaken off his despondency, he began to think carefully. Why did he have no magical affinity at all? After comparing himself with this world's native inhabitants, he realized that he was not someone born and raised in this world. He was a stowaway. What right did a stowaway have to demand the goddess Elune's favor? Most importantly, his soul came from a low-energy world without any mana, a world without any supernatural powers at all. His soul simply could not accept the existence of mana. That was the fundamental reason he lacked even the slightest magical affinity.

The very thing that had helped him had also undone him. His soul from his previous life had given him another lifetime of memories, but it had also blocked his path to becoming a mage. Since he could not become a mage, he would have to take a good look at what other classes he could choose. He began recalling the class descriptions he had read in the library.

The book described roughly six classes, all of which humans could learn. There were probably other hidden classes, but the book only listed these six.

The first, needless to say, was Warrior. This class was controlled by the nobility. Of course, some Warriors were not nobles, but anyone who wanted to grow stronger could only rely on the nobility. This class was not a good fit for him, because a Warrior's training began in childhood. Only through constant training and strengthening the body with medicines could they build a foundation for becoming stronger later. If he wanted to become a Warrior now, he would probably have to spend a great many gold coins, and at his current age, it was simply too late. He was no genius, and his future achievements would be limited to those of a low-ranking Warrior at best. Most importantly, he really did not want to become a lackey of those nobles.

The second was Hunter. This class seemed uncommon in Lordaeron and could only be found in the army. That meant he would have to enlist, which had been his earlier plan. But this class was very similar to Warrior. Both required training from childhood; otherwise, he could just wait to be used as cannon fodder.

The third was Rogue. There were many members of this class, but getting hold of a good training manual was exceedingly difficult. True Rogues were hard to find, and most kept their movements secret. If an ordinary person recognized them, they would simply draw a blade across that person's throat. After all, many Rogues also worked as assassins, and running into them was often no good thing.

The fourth was Priest. There was no need to discuss this further. For an elite-a university student-who had received a communist education in his previous life, religious faith was simply too much to ask.

The fifth was Warlock. This class lived off its ancestors. Unfortunately, Allen's family had been poor peasants for generations. There was no point giving it any further thought.

The sixth was Mage. In fact, it was the class best suited to his current circumstances, but because of his soul, he would probably never be able to become one.

After going through them all, he found that he had no choice at all. Helpless, he could only hope an opportunity would arise in the future. His only plan now was to search for another path on the first floor of Dalaran's library. Besides, he had gone to such lengths to reach Dalaran. Even if he could not become a mage, he had to gain something from it. Dalaran's library was the largest library in all of humanity, with enough books to keep Allen reading for years. The only thing he needed to worry about was his gold. He had counted his gold coins today and had roughly 118 left. If his only expenses in Dalaran were food, drink, and twelve hours of reading each day, they would last him just over three months.

He really could not get by without money, but he had no way to earn any at present. If nothing else worked, he could only become a mercenary, but even that would bring in money too slowly. He considered it for a long time before finally giving up. The test had left him exhausted in body and mind, so he decided to put everything aside and get a good night's sleep first.

Early the next morning, he went to the library. While acquiring knowledge, he also searched for the possibility of entering another class. There were many books on the first floor, but they were mostly histories, descriptions of local customs, and personal travelogues. There was really nothing worth noting.

And so he spent a month in Dalaran. Watching his gold coins dwindle one after another, he began to grow anxious. At this rate, he would soon be unable to afford any inn here. He had to find a way to get money.

That day, he went to the Adventurers' Association and spent a little money to obtain a new adventurer identity, replacing his previous identity as Old Jack. After that, Allen came here almost every day to check the job list for something suitable. Over those days, he took quite a few jobs, but they were all the simplest ones. His adventurer rank was the lowest, and he could not handle jobs that were too difficult anyway.

Even so, he earned less than a single gold coin over those days, which was utterly unacceptable to him. In the end, he could only give up and stopped taking jobs. He did not want to waste all his precious time.

His days returned to much the same routine as when he had first arrived. Now, however, apart from reading at the library, he cut every other expense to a minimum. He even changed inns several times, staying only in the cheapest places. As for food, he was even more frugal, eating the cheap dry rations he had bought earlier for the journey.

He now spent almost all his time reading in the library, and once he returned, he did practically nothing but eat and sleep. Finally, one day, he came across a personal memoir in the library. When he first found it, he had no intention of reading it, because he had already read many such memoirs. Everything in them was meaningless, and some were as badly written as a running account of daily activities. Others were pure fabrications, with most of their experiences and adventures made up, written entirely to boast about themselves.

Just as he was about to toss the memoir aside, its author caught his attention: Graia Goldwheel. The name would undoubtedly be unfamiliar to many people, but not to him, who had read nearly half the books on the first floor. Why had this name caught his attention? Because Graia Goldwheel was an oddball who had done many bizarre things.

First of all, he was a Goblin. People's first impression of Goblins was their greed for money, and this Goblin was much the same. He, too, had come to Dalaran to study alchemy for money, hoping to turn useless dirt into gold. Of course, there was nothing surprising about him having such an idea. The main thing was that after studying alchemy, he had never actually done it. Instead, he concocted one outlandish potion after another, including potions that made people fart nonstop after drinking them, potions that changed people's colors, and all sorts of other bizarre prank potions. He actually felt no shame about this and instead proudly called himself a great alchemist.

Of course, no one would buy his potions in the end, and he went bankrupt. After that, he never appeared again.