The Wizard: Starting as a Corpse Collector Apprentice and Paying for a Monthly Subscription

Amidst the applause and praise of the crowd, Locke's expression was radiant, as if the victory he had just won was truly the result of his strategic planning.

Even Cathy, who is usually reserved and self-conscious, showed an indescribable joy when she saw the approving looks from those around her, her usually downcast face.

That was the long-lost pride that belonged to the victors.

She knew this honor didn't belong to her, but it felt really good.

However, this wonderful atmosphere did not last long.

The applause had barely subsided when a rude and malicious voice poured down like a bucket of cold water.

"Now that the match is over, let's settle our score!"

"Boy! On behalf of the Radiant Sun Wizard Tower, I formally challenge you to a duel!"

Everyone turned to look.

The burly apprentice who had spoken rudely earlier was now stepping forward with a sinister grin, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Tyron like a wild boar eyeing its prey.

Locke and Cathy's expressions changed instantly.

They certainly knew what the other side was thinking: since they had lost technically, they would use violence to get back at the opponent.

This is the most primitive, yet most effective, method.

Cathy glanced at Tyron, who remained calm beside her, and then, as if she had made up her mind, she gritted her teeth, mustered her courage, and stood in front of Tyron.

She tried to steady her trembling voice and questioned loudly:

"Does losing a competition mean resorting to brute force?"

"Are the people of the Radiant Sun Wizard Tower... so sore losers, so uncouth?"

Upon hearing this, Joyce across from him sneered, crossed his arms, and mocked:

"What does this have to do with winning or losing the game?"

"Didn't he just agree to a duel with us? And he even arrogantly talked about things like 'whether or not there's compensation for murder'?"

"What? Now you're scared? Trying to hide behind a woman like a coward?"

"what?"

Cathy, who was not good at socializing or debating, was stunned when she heard this.

She blinked her big eyes, looked back at Tyron with a blank expression, then shrank back again, unsure how to refute him.

At this moment, the burly man continued to provoke them loudly, spitting as he spoke:

"What? You little good-for-nothing?"

"Weren't you so arrogant just now? If you don't dare to duel, then obediently kneel down, kowtow to me, and loudly admit that all the apprentices of your Kane Wizard Tower are a bunch of useless talkers!"

Just then, among the crowd of onlookers who seemed to enjoy the spectacle, someone suddenly started to shrug:

"Fight! Let's fight!"

"Exactly! What kind of skill is carving bones in a competition! Wizards should use magic to duel and determine the winner!"

"Hurry up and fight! Let us see your true skills!"

With the encouragement of these passersby, the atmosphere at the scene instantly became extremely tense.

Locke frowned; he keenly sensed the problem.

The opponent was clearly prepared, intending to completely crush Tyron and humiliate Cairnta in this way.

He first shielded Tyrion behind him, then said to Virgil opposite him:

"Virgil, what's the point of letting these lowly apprentices bite each other like wild dogs?"

"Since we're going to have a competition, why don't we give it a try?"

Virgil seemed to have anticipated Locke's thoughts.

He shrugged, a fake smile on his face, and said:

"Sarah, that's not funny."

"Who doesn't know you possess noble elven blood? Among those your age, how many can rival your magical control?"

"I heard you could cast level two magic when you were 13. How could a mere mortal like me possibly be your match? I surrender, I surrender, okay?"

This statement was perfectly watertight.

By directly attributing the difference in strength between the two to the uncontrollable factor of "bloodline," and then taking the opportunity to show weakness, Locke appears to be bullying the weak by taking advantage of his bloodline.

Moreover, since the other party had already "admitted defeat" in public, Locke could no longer continue to pester them, otherwise he would be being unreasonable and would lose his noble demeanor.

Just as Locke was speechless with shock, Tyron's calm voice rang out again:

"Does it really have to be a fight to the death?"

Tyron stepped out from behind Locke, looking earnestly at the burly man:

"We're all here to learn, can't we all work together peacefully to become stronger?"

These words immediately drew laughter from the surrounding crowd.

The burly man laughed so hard he almost fell over, then his face hardened, and he arrogantly said:

"Want to be friendly? Fine!"

"From now on, if you see me, kneel down and call me 'Grandpa,' and I'll treat you kindly!"

Tyronn sighed, his tone seemingly carrying a hint of helplessness and resignation:

"Alright, since you insist... then I accept your duel."

Upon hearing this, Cathy quickly grabbed Tyron's sleeve and said anxiously:

"You...you be careful! This guy looks really strong!"

Locke also whispered a reminder:

"If you feel something's wrong, just admit defeat immediately. It's no big deal."

Tyron nodded to the two with a smile, indicating that they could rest assured.

Then, he stepped forward and walked to the center of the open space.

The apprentices and passersby quickly dispersed, forming a circular area with a diameter of about twenty meters.

The two stood about six meters apart, facing each other.

The burly man grinned maliciously and casually pulled a silver-gray metal short sword from his pocket.

The short sword was about 30 centimeters long, with intricate dark red patterns engraved on its blade, and it exuded an unsettling, bloody aura.

"A ritual implement? A ceremonial sword!?"

When Cathy saw this, she exclaimed in surprise.

What shocked her was not the ritual sword, but how could a lowly apprentice possess a ritual sword?

Locke's face also turned very ugly:

"Even though it's only the lowest-level common quality, it still means this guy is a ritual wizard!"

Ritual wizards, as the name suggests, are a school of wizards that uses ritual magic as their core training method and strengthens themselves by performing various mysterious rituals.

They can use ritual magic to worship and offer sacrifices to the gods in order to receive their blessings and grow stronger.

This is a fairly popular school of wizardry today.

Because these types of wizards grow extremely quickly in the early stages, especially with ritual magic that enhances physical and mental abilities, the effects are often immediate.

For apprentices who haven't yet mastered powerful magic and whose magic power is scarce, such an opponent with extremely strong close-combat abilities is simply a nightmare.

Tyron looked at the ceremonial sword in the hand opposite him, a slight sense of unease creeping into his heart.

Information about wizarding artifacts flashed through his mind. Wizarding artifacts are divided into five categories, each with different basic effects.

Magic Wand: Increases control over magic power when casting spells, thereby increasing casting speed.

Wand: Increases the ability to resonate with spell models, thereby increasing the range of spell effects.

Ritual sword: Ritual can be performed quickly by inscribing rune arrays on the ritual sword.

Alchemy Hammer: Increases a wizard's affinity for various alchemical materials, improving the reaction efficiency and success rate of alchemy.

Soul Dagger: Can cut and attack spirits; it can be used as a research tool or a weapon.

"No magical artifact is cheap. Even the cheapest ordinary ritual sword costs more than 800 purple gold coins."

"Although this guy is just a low-level apprentice, I didn't expect him to acquire a ritual sword so quickly."

While Tyron was still analyzing the intelligence, the burly man had already made his move.

He suddenly gripped the ceremonial sword tightly, and the sharp blade instantly sliced ​​through his palm.

Blood flowed along the patterns on the sword, instantly unleashing some mysterious power.

hum!

Numerous faint, blood-red lines, as if alive, quickly appeared beneath the strong man's skin and spread wildly across his muscles.

Level 1 Ritual Magic: Boiling Blood.

Using one's own blood as a sacrifice, borrowing the power of the "Blood Queen," and consuming 2 points of mental energy, one strengthens their physical body for five minutes.