"Just tell me what you need."
"I need some magical materials. Here's a list—see if you can help me track them down." Leon said, handing over a neatly written note.
Ever since finishing the Chromatic Elixir, Leon hadn’t left the house. He was deeply dissatisfied with the two Wind Lash spells he cast that day—their power and accuracy were miles away from what he used to achieve. Leon even wondered if he had truly cast those spells himself.
But after thinking it through, it made sense. Matthew Merlin had been stuck at ninth-level mage apprentice for a reason—his innate talent was abysmal. Both his control and capacity for magic were far below average; it was practically a physical defect. No amount of effort or diligence could make up for it. He could accumulate more magical energy, sure, but he’d never overcome the limitations of his body and become a true mage.
Of course, things changed when Leon arrived. With magical control far beyond this era, he brute-forced his way into becoming a mage. But all of that was only possible because Leon now inhabited this body—the underlying problem hadn’t been solved at all.
The problem was far from resolved. Even though he’d managed to form a mana vortex, what about the next steps? From mage to archmage, from archmage to magus, and then to titled magus—every breakthrough would be hindered by this body’s flaw. If Leon didn’t fix it soon, he’d eventually pay the price.
In this era, where magical research was still in its infancy, such a physical defect was basically a death sentence for a mage. If your body couldn’t even handle a slightly intense flow of mana, how could you ever hope to be a competent mage?
Luckily, Leon didn’t really belong to this era.
To fix the problem of insufficient mana capacity, Leon had at least two options.
One was to use a special meditation technique to alter the flow of mana, but that would take forever—at least three to five years before Leon could even think about becoming an archmage. The other was to use alchemical potions to strengthen his body. That method was much faster: ten days if things went well, half a month if not. Compared to years, the difference was almost negligible.
Of course, the cost would be rather high. Many magical materials, even in this era, are considered precious. The thirty thousand gold coins in Leon's hands were certainly far from enough...
But there was no rush. Leon estimated that it would be some time before he advanced to Archmage, and before that, he ought to take the opportunity to truly understand this world.
After gaining yet another chance to help, Raymond was practically bursting with impatience. He didn’t even finish his ten-day break before he hurried off with the Chromatic Elixir in his arms, leaving the old steward shaking his head in lonely resignation, lamenting that his son had grown up and no longer wanted to spend much time with an old man like him.
“Exactly, so unfilial. Next time he comes home, you should give him a good beating...” Leon slandered Raymond without the slightest psychological burden, while he began preparing to head out to the Mage Guild.
——————
The Mage Guild was also located on Triumph Avenue, just two streets away from the Gilded Rose. From a distance, the spire of Sage’s Spire pierced the clouds, its tower inscribed with runes that flickered between light and shadow. Even under the blazing midday sun, its mysterious brilliance could not be concealed.
Leon stood beneath the towering spire, studying the runes carved into its surface while he waited for the guard to check his pass. Judging by the runes, this tower was clearly not built during peaceful times—most of these symbols were meant for legion warfare, their true power only realized by armies of ten thousand or more. And from the flow of magical energy, it was obvious they’d been used more than once. This place was less a spire, and more a fortress of war.
“Welcome to Sage’s Spire.” The guard’s hand trembled slightly when he saw the golden magical mark on the crystal card, his expression instantly turning respectful. This golden mark signified the highest level of privilege, granting unrestricted access to any book in the Sage’s Spire Library. In all of Seaview City, there were only seven such passes, each belonging to a figure at the pinnacle of their field—not someone a mere guard could afford to offend.
“Thank you.” Leon accepted the checked pass with a smile for the respectful guard, then turned and stepped into the legendary hall of magic.
If Sage’s Spire was the magical sanctuary of all Seaview City, then its library was undoubtedly the city’s treasury of knowledge. Here lay the richest and most comprehensive collection of books in the eastern kingdom. Countless sages had left their footprints within these walls, and every year mages traveled from afar just for a chance to step inside, even if only for a single day.
For mages, knowledge was like a drug—their craving for it surpassed all else. In the Loshanda District, many would pay unimaginable prices for a Sage’s Spire Library pass without a second thought.
Naturally, Leon, with his highest-privilege pass, couldn’t quite relate to such desperation...
He ascended the exquisitely carved staircase, passing by hurried mages along the way. Before long, Leon stood before the doors of the library on the eighteenth floor of Sage’s Spire.
Inside the library, it was utterly silent. Through the doorway, Leon saw many figures in black robes seated at desks. Conversation was rare, and even when necessary, voices were kept so low that Leon, standing at the entrance, heard nothing but the soft rustle of turning pages.
It truly was an excellent reading environment...
Leon entered the library as quietly as possible, choosing a desk by the wall. He placed his pass on the table to show the seat was taken, and was about to look for the book he needed when a young mage in a black robe sat down across from him.
As the young mage sat down, he dropped three books onto the desk with a heavy thud. The sound was so loud that even Leon, who had already stood up, frowned, glancing at him in mild annoyance.
“What’s wrong, Merlin, already pretending not to know me?” The young mage looked about twenty-five or twenty-six, handsome enough, but his current expression was far from pleasant. Leon frowned again, unable to hide his dislike.
Unfortunately, this young mage wasn’t Raymond. If Raymond saw Leon frown twice in a row, he’d immediately shut up. After all, at the Gilded Rose that day, when this guy nearly killed him, Leon had only frowned once. Now, two frowns in a row—that was a sign things were seriously wrong...
But this newcomer was oblivious. Despite Leon’s obvious displeasure, he kept talking in an exaggerated tone: “We just met last month—how could you forget so soon? That’s not good, being so forgetful. I’m Mason! At the Merchant Alliance gathering the month before, I’m the one who punched you so hard your nose bled!”
“Mason?” Leon searched his memory and found that Matthew Merlin did indeed know such a person.
And the impression was certainly memorable...