Magic: My equipment slots have no restrictions

Once on the road, Ryan let go of him and walked quickly ahead.

Viktor followed closely behind, his brow furrowing.

The streets were unusually crowded with townspeople today; people who were rarely seen gathered together, chattering amongst themselves.

Although he was walking too fast to hear the words clearly, the tension and sorrow on the townspeople's faces were clearly visible to him.

"Is it a bakery?"

Viktor asked a question instinctively.

Yes and no.

Ryan turned around and answered quickly, then turned back again: "You'll see in a minute, it'll definitely scare you."

Hearing this, Viktor already had some bad thoughts in his mind.

The two remained silent and soon arrived at the scene of the incident.

Across from the bakery.

A group of townspeople stood in front of the tavern, their expressions complicated, remaining silent as if waiting for something.

Victor understood what Ryan meant by "yes and no".

The bakery is fine, but there's something going on in the vicinity.

Rowling was also fine. She was standing on the outskirts of the crowd with her hands in front of her chest, but her face was a little pale.

Rowling.

Hearing the call, Rowling turned around and saw Victor standing beside her at some point.

"Victor!"

She let out a soft gasp of surprise and pulled the boy into her arms: "You've finally come."

Viktor immediately felt his breathing become suffocated and quickly turned his head to the side, which made him feel a little better, but the faint fragrance still wafted into his nostrils.

Just then, he noticed that his friend had moved a few steps away and was giving him the middle finger.

"..."

Victor ignored Ryan and did not break free from Rowling.

He turned his gaze to the center of the crowd, his eyes suddenly showing some surprise.

There, a shriveled and tattered skin, unrecognizable as human, lay on the ground.

It looked as if it had been dried for several days, giving the surrounding air a faint, indescribable odor.

Victor was reluctant to say that it was human skin.

But there were indeed a few tufts of long hair firmly attached to the skin.

"May the gods forgive his sins."

"Alas... the poor wanderer, in the end, could not survive this magical tide."

The conversation of the others piqued Viktor's interest.

He didn't believe that the gods in this world cared about the lives of ordinary people, but when he heard the words "magic tide," he remembered the door that had been repeatedly banged on last night.

If I hadn't followed the rules last night and had gone to open the door, would there be an extra skin on Beifenggang today?

The thought of having my flesh and soul drained by an unknown will while simultaneously enduring the violent lashes of magic...

He felt a chill run down his spine and dared not think any further.

Just then, he felt a sense of relief wash over him.

"Lal saw his father during last night's magical tide. His cries for help echoed outside for a long time."

Rowling released Victor, but one hand remained on the boy's shoulder, and a slight anxiety could be seen in her expression.

It was clear that she was quite frightened.

"Don't worry, Rowling."

Viktor shook his head, then smiled and reached out to remove the small hand from his shoulder.

The other person's hands were not delicate; their palms had calluses from long-term labor.

He looked down at the hand, slowly clenched it, then looked up at Rowling:

"This was an unavoidable disaster, something we couldn't have prevented, so you don't need to blame yourself."

"The fact that Lal was able to see his father one last time before he died was perhaps the best outcome fate could have given him."

"..."

Rowling looked at the boy who was a head shorter than her, a hint of doubt flashing in her eyes, which then turned to relief:

"You seem more mature than before, but... that's good."

Viktor paused for a moment, thinking he had said something wrong.

But seeing that the other person's expression seemed to have relaxed, he gave up the idea of ​​asking questions.

"Everyone, please make way!"

Just then, a loud shout rang out from not far away.

Everyone's attention was immediately drawn to it.

Four guards strode towards a middle-aged man dressed in a linen robe, surrounding him.

"Master, it's over here."

As the guide spoke, he and the surrounding townspeople retreated to the side of the road.

Their humble expressions and slightly bowed backs all spoke volumes about the monk's status.

"As expected of a mage, he has quite the presence."

At that moment, Ryan suddenly moved closer to Viktor and whispered something.

Anyone could hear the envy in his voice.

Victor also admires the mage profession.

In this world, sorcerers, wizards, and mages are collectively known as magicians.

But if we take it out of the box...

The mage's popularity and potential are definitely the highest.

After all, who would refuse a teammate who has so many spells they're practically free, and who, with proper preparation, can greatly improve the team's survival rate and damage output?

Of course, monks are also indispensable in life.

Just like now.

The middle-aged monk walked up to the tattered human skin, and began to chant obscure incantations in a low voice, casting a detection spell.

He slowly raised both hands and made a circle in the air.

Gradually, a soft blue halo appeared in front of him.

Everyone stared intently at the halo.

Renn's eyes burned with excitement, his hands clenched into fists, overwhelmed with emotion.

Only Viktor remained quite calm.

In his perception, the halo had changed within seconds, and the magic within it was forming a pattern.

But something seems to be affecting the changes; the magic is gradually becoming disordered, as if it has evolved into a miniature magical tide.

"Bang!"

The moment the middle-aged monk frowned slightly, the blue halo exploded softly.

The mage's robes fluttered as he was shaken by the invisible magical fluctuations, and he took a half-step back.

"Master."

A guard who was nearby rushed forward to help him up.

The monk waved his hand, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding townspeople:

"I have detected it. Although the child was unfortunately caught in the magical tide, his soul has been redeemed."

It's a bit strange for a mage to say this, since mages aren't clergy.

But the townspeople breathed a sigh of relief, and praises such as "North Wind Ridge will remember your kindness" poured in.

The middle-aged mage remained expressionless, silently summoning two ghostly hands to collect the piece of human skin.

He heard such compliments every now and then, and he was tired of them after working in the baronial territory for so many years.

Moreover, he was neither a priest nor a paladin; the so-called "redemption of souls" was just something he made up to appease these ignorant townspeople.

"..."

Victor stood silently in the crowd, watching two ghostly hands put the human skin into a sheepskin bag, his eyes filled with intense curiosity.

Hand of the Mage is truly a useful and convenient 0-level spell.

He secretly made up his mind that he would definitely learn it when he had the chance.

By this time, most of the townspeople in the surrounding area were already preparing to leave.

Rowling tugged at Victor's sleeve, but before she could speak...

The middle-aged monk spoke first:

Please wait a moment.

"By order of Baron Sebastian, there is something I must announce to you all."