Chapter Ten: Let Go of That Girl

After parting ways with the young girl Ahri, Andy felt a pang of regret, thinking he shouldn’t have been so adamant with his words—at the very least, he should have left room for reconsideration.

It turned out Ahri was a member of the Darkmoon Circus, and judging by her demeanor, she held a position of some importance. She’d witnessed Andy manipulating the Fire Guidance spell and considered him talented, so she extended an invitation. The Darkmoon Circus’s treatment of newcomers seemed enticing: low-level wizard apprentices received two magic stones and a hundred gold coins annually, and upon promotion to mid-level apprentices, the salary increased to five magic stones and three hundred gold coins per year. As one advanced, the compensation would rise accordingly. Each year, apprentices were also entitled to attend a one-day targeted training session with official wizards free of charge.

Moreover, the circus offered clear channels for promotion. If one became a performer, the first year would be spent as a trainee; after that, popularity would determine whether one became an ordinary performer, third-tier, second-tier, first-tier, or even a superstar. Any performer ranked third-tier or above could share in the income from performances.

For those unwilling to perform in the spotlight, there were backstage roles with a similar one-year probation period, and a hierarchy of positions: member, group leader, supervisor, steward, chief steward, vice captain, captain, vice leader, and leader.

Magic stones were the currency exchanged among wizards. Generally, apprentices still used gold coins as the main form of payment, since magic stones were rare. The fact that the Darkmoon Circus paid salaries in magic stones showed their wealth and power, befitting one of the three major wizard organizations.

Unfortunately, Andy already had a destination in mind: he was going to Grimoire Academy, another of the three great wizard organizations. The Darkmoon Circus was, after all, a commercial institution, mostly sheltering practitioners with little hope for advancement due to lack of talent. The circus did nurture its own prodigies, but such privileges clearly wouldn’t be extended to Andy.

Unlike the circus, Grimoire Academy was an open educational organization, focused on imparting knowledge of wizardry—far more suitable for someone like Andy, who wanted to continue his studies and wasn’t ready to enter the workforce so soon.

Furthermore, Andy’s mentor Stein had recommended him to Grimoire Academy, whereas the circus invitation came from a mysterious figure whose background was unknown. Naturally, the former was more trustworthy; Andy hadn’t even disclosed his real name to the latter.

While Ahri patiently explained the circus’s work and benefits, Andy maintained an air of curiosity. Once she finished, he refused her promptly and decisively, then turned and left with a flourish, leaving Ahri behind, stamping her feet in frustration.

Andy hadn’t intended to leave so soon, but he activated his Listening Spell and sensed Bill and Jella approaching. Whether or not they realized Andy was the culprit behind Bill’s recent misfortune, even just hearing his name called out would put Mr. Trist in quite an awkward position.

He left the central plaza, heading home, when suddenly he heard a familiar voice.

“Is that… Compson?”

Compson’s voice drifted from a stern building not far from the plaza, flanked by two towers—the Colin Fortress, seat of the lord of Dallas City.

“Don’t worry, young master. I guarantee everything will be arranged perfectly this time!”

“Hmph! Useless fool, you said the same thing last time.” That voice belonged to… Edward Colin.

“Last time the mentor was present, so I didn’t dare go too far—I merely helped things along. This time the mentor is out of town. By the time he returns, perhaps he’ll still be able to bring flowers to my dear junior’s grave. Hehehe…”

Hearing this, Andy felt a tightness in his chest.

“Hmph, if you fail again, forget about your father’s knighthood.”

Edward seemed impatient, dismissing Compson abruptly. Compson nodded and bowed all the way out, leaving through the side door of the lord’s mansion and vanishing into the night.

Andy maintained his Concealment and Listening spells, following Compson from a distance.

Today was truly an unexpected discovery. When Catherine mentioned Compson’s connection to Lisa, Andy had already flagged his name in his notebook as a prime suspect. Now it seemed he was working for Edward—last time’s soul-devouring grass incident was likely their handiwork. Andy was preparing to leave for the capital, intending to let past grievances go, but judging by their conversation, another plot was brewing. It’s true: a man has no intention of harming the tiger, but the tiger still harbors malice. Now that Andy had stumbled upon this, he had to get to the bottom of it.

Compson was the oldest of Stein’s apprentices, rumored to be the son of a knight. He always appeared the perfect gentleman, with a good reputation in the wizard tower. In Andy Charles’s memories, he’d been a friendly senior.

Compson wound his way through the city, soon leaving the inner district and entering the slums.

It was Andy’s first time venturing outside the noble quarter since crossing over. The stench of the slum hit him instantly—a peculiar blend reminiscent of rotten apples mixed with fermented tofu, all steeped in sweaty shoes. Andy promptly retracted his previous opinion of the Colin family’s city management.

In fact, across most cities of the Dolan continent, only the noble districts, which had dedicated cleaning staff, maintained decent hygiene; elsewhere, conditions were poor. Andy, used to modern civilization and living in the meticulously maintained inner city ever since his arrival, found the smell intolerable, especially after his spiritual strength reached the level of a mid-level wizard apprentice, sharpening his senses.

Having survived university dorm life, Andy knew that odors faded with prolonged exposure.

Compson, unfazed, continued onward. Andy pinched his nose, trailing from afar.

At last, Compson entered a dilapidated manor. Cobwebs clung to the lintel, indicating long abandonment. After Compson entered, Andy noticed a deep cross-shaped sword mark carved into the gate, likely a sign.

Besides the sword mark, faded and messy graffiti covered the surface, as if ink had been washed away by wind and rain. The script was crude and crooked, like a child’s prank.

By moonlight, Andy examined it closely—most were phrases like “XX big turtle” or “XX the great guy,” childish doodles. There were also venting curses such as “Victoria’s mongrel, blood for blood.”

A peculiar couplet caught his eye: the left read, “All wizards are dogs,” and the right, “May all nobles’ families perish.” The horizontal inscription above, scrawled in crooked letters, read, “Erase dead mothers.”

Andy was speechless. He knew these words must have been written by Gillian locals; indeed, most residents of the slum were Gillians. Compared to Victorians, Gillians were virtually second-class citizens in the Kingdom of Elan. Were it not for the war with the Duchy of Sain easing internal tensions, Gillians might still be fighting to escape their slave status.

A century ago, the Duke of Sain had declared the abolition of slavery, winning the support of countless Gillians and successfully breaking away from Elan to form an independent state. Now, in the Duchy of Sain, Victorians and Gillians had begun to merge ethnically, and national strength was rising, allowing Sain to take the initiative in the ongoing war with Elan. Conversely, Elan faced both war with Sain and recurring Gillian uprisings, draining its resources. Though Elan eventually declared Gillians legal citizens under pressure, the divide remained sharp—in thought, culture, and lifestyle, Victorians and Gillians were worlds apart.

Compson lingered inside with no movement. Andy, possessing knight-level agility, silently climbed onto the roof, blending seamlessly with the shadows under his expert Concealment spell.

Compson paced the overgrown courtyard, looking anxious as he waited. The wait stretched nearly an hour.

Finally, the gate, bearing the declaration “all wizards are dogs,” creaked open. A dark figure entered, carrying a cloth bag from which muffled cries and restless movement emanated.

Under the moon, the figure revealed a rugged face—none other than John, Stein’s knight follower.

“Did you see the words on the door?” John’s voice was firm. “Crude, but not wrong, eh?” He tossed the bag to the ground. The cries inside grew louder from the impact.

“You’re finally here. Is everything arranged?” Compson hurried forward.

“See for yourself,” John gestured at the bag, then pressed, “All wizards are dogs. What do you think, wizard apprentice Compson?”

Compson strode over, untying the bag as he spoke, “The words on the door are nothing but the ravings of commoners.”

“Heh, commoners? You mean Gillians. Do you know, four hundred years ago, the entire Dolan continent belonged to your so-called commoners. When our ancestors fled here, it was they who taught us to adapt to the climate, grow crops, hunt beasts, and defend against monsters, allowing us to survive and thrive. And how did we repay them? With massacre, enslavement, turning them into savages, bandits, thieves, and prostitutes. Even now, Gillian songs still recount: ‘We offered broth, only to welcome wolves…’”

“Enough!” Compson cut him off. “What’s the point of dredging up ancient history? Don’t forget, you too are of Victorian descent. Those natives without wizard inheritance hardly deserve to occupy the fertile Dolan continent. Say that again and you might be hanged as a member of the Gillian Brotherhood.”

“It’s just sentiment,” John replied indifferently. “But speaking of the Gillian Brotherhood, you should be careful lately. Word is they’re getting active again. A native revenge organization, after four centuries of blood, who knows what dazzling fruit will bloom?”

“Hmph, nothing but rabble. Let’s get to business.” Compson, frustrated with the knot, finally burned it off with a Fire Guidance spell.

The bag opened, and a girl quickly shed it, bolting for the door. Alas, she barely got two steps before John caught her like a chick and bound her hands and feet with rope. Now the girl unleashed a torrent of insults in Victoria tongue, Gillian, and various dialects, cursing John and Compson’s ancestors. Only when John stuffed her mouth did her protests become muffled.

Andy recognized the girl—he’d seen her recently. She was Jella, daughter of the Phillips couple. She’d just been with Bill; how John managed to snatch her was unclear.

“See?” John said as he gagged Jella. “She’s a feisty one. Took some effort to lure away the stupid boy and grab her. This one’s not as easy as Lisa last time. Besides, she’s got different tastes—probably wouldn’t be interested in a pretty boy like you.”

“Ha, this time it’s much simpler and guaranteed,” Compson replied, producing a jet-black puppet from his pocket. “Look what I’ve got.”

“Is that… a secret artifact?” John’s tone rose.

“Exactly. Though it’s single-use. Voodoo puppet—effective only on mortals. Once I cast the spell, within forty-eight hours, ha, I can make her do anything I command…”

“Hmm, sounds more reliable than last time. But this artifact isn’t yours, is it? Otherwise, you could’ve used it on that old man Brown.”

“Of course not. This is the privilege of nobility. Anyway, old Stein has little time left; soon we’ll be serving the viscount together. With talent flocking to the viscount, we must support each other.” Compson was already planning for the future.

“Heh, I like dealing with clever folk. But it’s late—let’s begin.” John urged Compson.

“Alright, let me show you the power of a secret artifact.” Compson raised the voodoo puppet, preparing to cast a spell at Jella, who struggled ever more desperately.

As John and Compson spoke, swarms of fire beetles, dim and hidden amid the grass, nearly blanketed the yard, encircling the pair. Andy drew his knight’s sword, tensed and ready for the opportune moment.

A knight and a mid-level wizard apprentice—Andy might not be a match. Yet the Phillips couple had shown him much kindness; how could he let their daughter be cursed, especially since it was due to his own involvement? Andy waited for the perfect moment to strike, maximizing the impact.

Compson began chanting. Andy could wait no longer—it was now or never!

Just as Andy was about to leap out, a furious shout echoed from the gate:

“Let go of that girl!”