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

The morgue was dimly lit.

Four red and white skeletal flying swords hovered in the air, emitting extremely faint whistling sounds.

Tyrion's rune design integrated the four flying swords into a single rune array.

This means that he doesn't need to pay magic power for each sword individually; he only needs to inject 1 point of mental power into the core array to maintain the levitation and control of these four flying swords for 5 minutes.

In the following period, Tyren devoted all of his remaining 11 points of mental energy to training in controlling the flying sword.

With the blessing of the "Laughing Fish Sacred Body," his control over the flying sword improved at a speed visible to the naked eye.

He quickly figured out the numerical limits of these flying swords.

First, there's the distance.

The effective control radius is 10 meters.

Once this distance is exceeded, the mental connection will become intermittent, and the flying sword will become like a drone that has lost its signal, turning into bones that can only perform Brownian motion, completely harmless.

Secondly, there's speed.

The speed and agility of a flying sword are directly proportional to one's proficiency in the "Spirit Summoning and Domination Technique".

Because Tyron was worried that his rapid advancement would arouse unnecessary suspicion, he temporarily stored away the newly acquired experience books, which caused him to remain at the threshold of level 1 apprentice, just before level 2.

At the current level, the maximum speed of the four flying swords is generally around 10 meters per second.

"10 meters per second is equivalent to the speed of a professional athlete sprinting at full speed."

Tyron stroked his chin, calmly analyzing the situation:

"This speed is fast for ordinary people, but it is not difficult for a prepared warrior or wizard to dodge."

"Simply relying on impact has limited destructive power."

"But what if you combine it with the Sharpness enchantment of [Spell Thorn]..."

Tyron casually grabbed a piece of hardwood he used for practice, enchanted his flying sword, and stabbed it.

puff!

With a muffled thud, the three-centimeter-thick hardwood board was instantly pierced.

That's enough.

"As long as you can break through their defenses, even at a speed of 1 meter per second, you can still kill them."

In addition, Tyronn also figured out a simple way to increase his explosiveness.

Since mental acceleration isn't enough, let's make up for it with physical means.

He can first use the strength of his arm to throw the flying sword like a dart, giving it extremely high initial kinetic energy, and then use his mental power to correct and guide it.

Although in this "manual transmission" mode, the flying sword is too fast to make complex changes of direction and can only travel in a straight line.

However, it is extremely effective for close-to-medium range raids and assassinations.

"Isn't this just a javelin with a basic guidance system?"

Tyron grinned.

After exhausting his mental energy during his second meditation, Tyren exhaled a breath of stale air and opened his attribute panel.

[Name: Tyron Arthas Magnus]

[Rank: Level 1 Apprentice]

[Constitution: 2 → 2.4]

[Spirit: 4.5 → 5.3]

[Magic Control: 11.7 → 18.7]

[Spell: Summoning and Domination Spell (18732→ 18804/100000)]

[Skill: Magic Needle Technique Lv.4 (231→ 351/400)]

[Knowledge: Runeology 1.3; Alchemy 0.2; Ritual Studies 0.4; Linguistics 0.2]

Looking at the steadily increasing data, Tyron nodded in satisfaction.

"Once we get to the wilderness, far from the emperor's reach, we can find an opportunity to consume the experience book and directly advance to level 2 apprentice."

"Anyway, I'll have to stay outside for at least a month. By then, whether my strength has improved or it's an epiphany or a fortuitous encounter, it all depends on my words."

Then he began packing his luggage.

Tomorrow is the day we leave the city from the tower.

The next morning.

As the sun rose and the moon set, Tyrion's mental strength was fully restored with the changing of the lunar phases.

He didn't have much luggage.

The old backpack behind him contained a neatly folded skeleton dog, one of his trump cards.

He kept the amulet and the four spirit swords bestowed upon him close to his body, always in the best position to be activated.

As for the Fireball Ring, the champion's prize, it wasn't worn on his hand in public; instead, it was hidden in a secret pocket in his sleeve.

What remained were a few changes of clothes, a carving knife that was easy to use, and one crucial item—

A portable single-person tent.

Accommodation conditions in the wild are definitely not as good as in the city.

In order to ensure that the judgment of the "Slacking Off Saint Body" takes effect, he must be able to build his own closed space anytime and anywhere.

When Tyron walked out of the morgue's dark corridor with his bag and luggage, the sunlight outside was a bit dazzling.

The servants in the menial quarters were bowing respectfully in unison.

At the door, Macley walked over with three apprentices.

The leader was a young man, about eighteen or nineteen years old, wearing a pure cotton wizard's robe, with an undisguised arrogance and pride on his face.

Behind him followed two lowly apprentices dressed in linen robes, who looked timid and subservient.

Macley stopped and pointed at the young man, saying:

"This is Thomas."

"He will take over your duties in the morgue from now on."

"He is a third-year advanced apprentice, a level 3 apprentice."

Thomas looked Tyron up and down.

Seeing that Tyron was still wearing that faded linen robe, a hint of disdain and contempt flashed in his eyes.

Rumors have been flying around in the past few days about this lowly apprentice who "made a great contribution but was exiled".

Most people would assume that Tyron was arrogant, had offended his mentor in some way, or was a habitual liar with questionable character.

For Thomas, this guy, who was once considered a potential threat, has now become a discarded pawn.

Since they're discarded pawns, there's no point in respecting them.

Thomas stepped forward, chin held high, and spoke in a tone that sounded like he was lecturing a subordinate:

"From now on, the work in the morgue will be handled by me and these two apprentices."

"After you leave the city, you must work hard and always remember your teacher's teachings and instructions."

"We must not bring shame upon our teacher, nor can we disgrace the Tower of Kane, understand?"

At this point, he gave a cold laugh and threatened in a low voice:

"If you dare to do anything outrageous outside, I won't even need the teacher to lift a finger. Once I hear about it, I'll see how I deal with you!"

Despite this sudden provocation, Tyron's smile remained unchanged.

He bowed slightly, his tone humble:

"Yes, Senior Thomas is right, I will definitely keep it in mind."

However, in the instant he lowered his head, Tyronn caught a keen glimpse of Macley's expression out of the corner of his eye.

The mentor was watching Thomas's performance with a cold eye, his eyes showing no appreciation but rather a hint of icy mockery.

It's like watching a clown digging his own grave.

"It seems that this senior, Thomas, is the real consumable."

Tyron chuckled inwardly.

Then, like a victorious rooster, Thomas swaggered into the morgue with his two henchmen, as if it were some kind of royal palace.

Tyron carried his luggage and walked towards the gate.

As they passed through the servants' quarters, craftsman Cole, stable boy old Tom, and cook Burton stood by.

They looked at Tyron with eyes full of regret and indignation.

"What a good child! Why was he driven away?"

"Yes, I've heard that in the wild at night, when the light of the source fire can't reach, those eerie things crawl out..."

In their minds, sending a level 1 apprentice outside the city was no different from sending them to their death.

Tyronn smiled and waved goodbye to them without offering any further explanation.

Some roads are destined to be walked alone.

At the entrance of the Wizard's Tower.

Markley looked at Tyron, who was calm and composed, and nodded inwardly.

This composure in the face of both honor and disgrace is something that even that fool Thomas couldn't match.

"Don't worry about going out."

Mackley walked beside Tyron, speaking casually.

"What if we encounter a life-threatening situation that we can't overcome..."

"Use your blood to wrap the amulet I gave you."

Tyron's heart skipped a beat, and he thought to himself, "It seems this badge is special; it's not an ordinary identification document."

"Thank you, teacher."

Tyron nodded respectfully.

As we stepped out of the school gate, two sturdy carriages pulled by black-scaled horses were already ready to depart.

Beside the first carriage, Tyron saw an unexpected figure.

The girl with large round-framed glasses, long green hair, and a loose wizard's robe that couldn't hide her hot figure: Cathy.

At this moment, she was standing there somewhat awkwardly, carrying a small bag on her back.

"Miss Hoffmann?"

Tyron was taken aback.

"She volunteered to participate in the wilderness hunting training," Markley said.

Upon hearing this, countless clues flashed through Tyron's mind.

Did you ask for it on your own initiative?

impossible.

Given Cathy's introverted and timid personality, she would never voluntarily go into the wild.

The only explanation is: a transaction.

MacLehley must have reached some kind of agreement with the Hoffman family behind Cathy.

One of the main reasons Cathy went out of the city with him this time was probably related to herself.

"It seems this journey won't be too lonely."

Tyron didn't ask any further questions, he just nodded to Cathy.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Tyron, Cathy, and five other senior apprentices boarded the carriage.

The wheels rolled, and the carriage slowly drove away from the wizard's tower.

In the crowd, Jane, a sharp-tongued and jealous woman, watched the departing carriage, a malicious smile creeping onto her lips:

"Hmph, a stray dog ​​and a nouveau riche bumpkin have gotten together."

"They're a perfect match."

"Hopefully we'll hear good news about them being torn apart by ghouls in the wild."