Chapter 80: Market, Profiteers
Gauss looked at the crowd blocking the doorway in front of him, then turned back to Lawrence,
His gaze was filled with confusion.
If he remembered correctly, Lawrence was supposed to have gone to arrange for him to train protective magic with a spellcaster apprentice, right?
So why did so many people show up as soon as he arrived?
This isn’t going to turn into a group fight, is it? Hmm, a bunch of them ganging up on him.
“Uh… everyone heard that you wanted to train protection magic, so they’re all eager, asking if there’s anywhere they can help.” Lawrence chuckled.
Although he had felt a bit frustrated just now—after all, he couldn’t break through Gauss’s defenses even using all his strength—,
But these people had come on their own accord; it had nothing to do with him.
At most, he had just mentioned a few words about how good Gauss’s protection magic was, and the other apprentices’ eyes lit up one by one.
After all, who doesn’t like a spellcasting punching bag with good attack feedback?
Striking against a protective shield with magical field effects isn’t the same as training on a dummy or other props.
Apprentices studying protection cantrips are still relatively few compared to other spellcaster apprentices.
Plus, many protective cantrips aren’t very durable, so finding a suitable “punching bag” in the first place isn’t easy.
“Let me go first.”
A male apprentice squeezed out from the crowd.
“My cantrip is Shocking Grasp, please be careful.”
The male apprentice spoke politely, but when it came to actual training his movements were rough.
Without much preparation, he cast the cantrip, a blue lightning enveloping his palm, and he swung his large hand toward where Gauss stood; blue electric sparks drifted from his fingers.
Finally, the current converged on Gauss’s body surface.
Lightning is a dangerous attack for ordinary people, but after all this Shocking Grasp was cast by an apprentice, so the intensity wasn’t exaggerated.
Gauss watched the electricity on his body surface dancing like glowing snakes, and his body felt a bit tingly and numb.
Fortunately, the mage armor enhanced with magic resistance blocked most of the attack, so that slight tingling didn’t trouble him much.
“So it really resisted it?”
“This protective spell is so strong—it looks a bit like Tier 1 mage armor, but that’s a Tier 1 spell, right?”
“It shouldn’t be—if I recall, mage armor is quite weak against magical attacks.”
“Shall we ask him?”
“Shh! Forgot? It’s taboo to rashly inquire about another’s spells!”
In this world, the variety of magic and spells is vast: some exist in a gem, some lie buried in ruins waiting to be discovered, and some are simply woven into the omnipresent ambient magical energy.
So, in theory, anyone might master some mysterious spell or cantrip that others have never encountered or even understood.
Many spells aren’t perfect, especially rarer, fringe spells.
Therefore, many apprentices who have mastered niche cantrips won’t willingly share detailed information; of course, common cantrips and spells—once used—need no hiding.
After all, with common cantrips and spells, even if you don’t say anything, any mildly experienced apprentice can spot the clues when they’re used.
Gauss paid no mind to what the onlookers murmured.
He was immersed in experiencing the electric “therapy”—no, Shocking Grasp—and mage armor resonating within his body with renewed surges of magical harmony.
Just as he was carefully savoring that tingly yet warm resonance, the electric shock abruptly stopped.
That soon?
He looked up to see the slightly breathless male apprentice with an embarrassed expression.
“Sorry, I’ve run out of mana.”
Gauss clicked his tongue—he felt a bit irritated to have his training interrupted, but still politely said,
“Thank you for your effort.”
He knew well that not everyone had superior conditions like him; with extraordinary mana reserves he could even cast multiple Tier 1 spells.
For other apprentices, that was almost unimaginable.
Many spellcaster apprentices without resources and cultivation couldn’t even sustain Tier 0 cantrips for long.
This was the norm for ordinary spellcaster apprentices: they had to scrimp their limited mana, and only after officially advancing to a profession, with more mana reserves and lower-cost core skills, would their situation improve.
“Next!”
Time quietly passed in this “magical gauntlet.”
“Mage Armor lv3 (5/50)”
After one round of training, the mage armor—just improved to lv3—gained several more proficiency points.
That was incredibly fast.
Under normal circumstances, regular training shouldn’t produce such effects—but the range of offensive techniques present was rather rich.
His mage armor seemed to be in a process of continually collecting data, absorbing nutrients, evolving.
Each new spell seemed to bring new changes to the mage armor.
So the improvement speed was fast.
Gauss took out a jerky from his belongings and chewed it in large bites.
Although he had more mana than other apprentices, it wasn’t enough to withstand being worn down by eight or nine apprentices in succession without harm.
During the process, he also swapped in a fresh mage armor, and utilized his “rapid digestion” talent to train while eating and recover mana.
So in the end, he literally drained all the mana from every spellcaster apprentice present.
Seeing them sitting on chairs against the wall one by one, pale-faced, eyes closed in concentration, Gauss shook his head.
Ordinary spellcaster apprentices truly couldn’t wear him down with such consumption.
A Tier 1 spell already had significant advantage over Tier 0 cantrips.
Moreover, his mage armor at this point could no longer be considered just a simple Tier 1 spell.
Combined with his larger mana reserves, and the ability to train while replenishing mana, one-on-one it was impossible to outlast him unless they attacked together.
To be honest, although the process was always interrupted, overall the training experience was quite enjoyable.
Of course, he referred to the satisfaction of watching proficiency rise rapidly.
He didn’t particularly enjoy the act of “taking hits.”
Glancing at the other members of the Mutual-aid Association, each looking drained and lethargic from overusing their mana and unlikely to resume training anytime soon, Gauss said goodbye to Lawrence and left first.
After Gauss departed, the apprentices who had been sitting rigidly against the wall all let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the benches.
“Lawrence, just what is his background?”
“And you weren’t lying to us, right? Are you sure he’s not a professional spellcaster?”
Lawrence suddenly felt a sense of balance in his heart—seeing the equally stunned faces of the association members, he finally wasn’t the only one doubting his own sanity.
“Heh, do I look like the kind of guy who’d hire a professional spellcaster to put on a show for you?” Lawrence shook his head. “Besides, he came with a referral letter from Miss Andini—being strong is only natural, right?”
The other members fell silent upon hearing that.
Of course, they knew exactly who this “Andini” was.
She was the first president who founded this Mutual-aid Association, and to them, a Black Iron-ranked adventurer was already a near-legendary figure.
Upon hearing that he had connections to Andini, the bit of jealousy and defiance they had secretly harbored quietly vanished.
They clearly weren’t on the same level at all.
“Better take the chance to practice your cantrips—this kind of training opportunity doesn’t come often.”
Though none of them responded aloud, most inwardly agreed.
Who cares about this or that—if there’s a perfect training dummy to test your cantrips on, just get practicing first.
“President Lawrence, will he be coming again tomorrow?”
Walking through the streets of Wormwood, Gauss noticed that every town had its own distinct flavor.
Graystone Town, for example, was filled with massive stone buildings and paved roads—a textbook adventurer town—while Wormwood included much more greenery and natural elements.
Gauss also noticed that many adventurers returning from outside weren’t carrying spoils from monsters, but instead had freshly harvested herbs.
The backbone industry of a region truly shaped every aspect of it.
Arriving at the site of the night market, he found the place even more crowded.
It was a small square nestled among low residential buildings.
Besides the open shops, the plaza was filled with small stalls—just a tarp laid out, displaying the vendor’s wares.
It was quite lively.
Just stepping into the plaza, Gauss was overwhelmed by the sights.
Herb sellers, stone traders, and merchants with mysterious trinkets—book peddlers offering “skill books,” apprentices trading magical items, potions, and powders—all gathered here.
They sold everything—genuine and fake, all mixed together.
No wonder Lawrence had warned him earlier that afternoon to keep his eyes sharp and not get scammed when he said he’d visit the market tonight.
Gauss stopped in front of a book and scroll vendor’s stall, crouching to scan the items laid out on the tarp.
“Take a look if you want anything,” the stall owner said coldly, apparently not inclined to introduce the merchandise.
Which suited Gauss just fine.
《Herbal Encyclopedia Around Wormwood》
《Cantrip Miscellany》
《Dancing Light Dissection》
《Archmage Manuscript》
《Mage Hand》
A rough scan revealed a dazzling assortment.
But Gauss had doubts about some of the items—take the Archmage Manuscript, for instance. Could something like that really show up in a roadside stall?
Noticing a familiar title, and wanting to verify something, Gauss asked the stall owner, “Can I open this to look?”
“You can. But don’t take too long with any of them.”
Gauss picked up the scroll labeled Mage Hand, unrolled it, and rapidly skimmed its contents.
Tiny, dense writing was interspersed with miniature diagram models.
After a full scan, Gauss rolled the scroll back up.
It was a fake.
Because he himself had mastered the Mage Hand cantrip, he could easily spot the flaws—even if the scroll looked convincing, it couldn’t fool him.
If someone actually tried to learn magic from that scroll, it would most likely be a complete waste of time.
He silently returned the scroll to the stall without saying a word.
After flipping through a few more, he walked away from the stall.
They all seemed like fakes.
Perhaps they could only trick would-be spellcaster apprentices among common folk, or poorly trained apprentices.
Hand-copied fragment scrolls were priced around 2 to 5 silver coins, and some complete secondhand cantrips were priced as high as 30 silver coins.
It left him stunned.
If they were genuine, fine—but they didn’t look like the real thing at all.
Would anyone actually buy them?
Gauss dared not imagine—if some ordinary person, after scraping together a few silver coins, spent their life savings on what were supposedly learnable cantrip fragments—
Only to train for months and gain nothing—what kind of despair would that bring?
It’s not easy at all.
For common people aiming to become a spellcaster apprentice, the first hurdle isn’t the difficulty of learning cantrips, but affording them—and finding scrolls that are actually genuine.
Someone like him could at least judge roughly by experience and magical sensing—but how would an ordinary person tell the fakes from the real ones?
The road for ordinary folk to become Professionals is indeed filled with hardship.