In the primary public practice room of Zone A-7, the stone walls were covered in scratches of varying depths and scorched black marks—medals left behind by countless successful or failed acts of Witchcraft.
Lester Green leaned against the cold wall, panting heavily.
His finely tailored apprentice robe was a wrinkled mess. The hair on his forehead was soaked with sweat, plastered in strands to his deathly pale skin.
Not far in front of him, a lone candle stood on an iron stand, its flame perfectly still, quietly mocking his every effort.
"Worthless… Completely worthless…" he cursed himself, his voice hoarse.
His father's stern face haunted his thoughts.
To secure his spot at the Seven Towers Alliance, his family had mortgaged one of their shops in the city just to pull some strings with an academy Steward.
Before he left, his father had clapped him on the shoulder, his tone unprecedentedly solemn. "Lester, the future of the Green Family depends on whether or not you can become a true Wizard."
'The family's future.'
The words weighed on him like a mountain, suffocating him.
He had talent—at least, that's what the detection crystal had indicated.
His Magic Power affinity was grade A, and his aptitude for Meditation was decent. So why? Why couldn't he master even the most fundamental Release Rune?
An entire week.
He had watched the other apprentices progress from clumsy to proficient, from barely making a candle flame flicker to conjuring a gentle breeze.
And he, Lester Green, had accomplished nothing except for inducing sharp, stabbing pains in his own head.
Yesterday, he had gritted his teeth and spent five Magic Stones on a bottle of beginner's Spiritual Power recovery potion. He'd thought that with the potion's help, hard work would make up for his lack of talent and he would finally break through this barrier.
The result? A dozen more spectacular failures and a bout of Spiritual Power backlash so painful it left him writhing on the floor.
Now, he didn't even dare to try again.
His Sea of Consciousness was barren, and every attempt to draw upon his Spiritual Power felt like scraping his nerves with a dull knife.
'…Just a pulse, a directional pressure...' He unconsciously repeated the textbook definition, but the words held no meaning for him.
He had tried to imagine his Magic Power as a pebble, an arrow, a ball of compressed air, and then with all his might, "throw" it at the damn candle flame.
Every single attempt failed.
The energy either dissipated halfway there or veered off in some unknown direction.
He closed his eyes in despair. 'Maybe I really don't belong here.'
'Maybe I'm just a joke.'
Just as he was sinking into a mire of self-loathing, a calm voice suddenly spoke up beside him.
"The candle flame isn't your target."
Lester jolted and snapped his eyes open.
An apprentice with black hair and blue eyes stood before him, his posture ramrod straight, his robe immaculate.
He looked to be about the same age, but his deep blue eyes held an unsettling calm. Behind him stood two other apprentices, a man and a woman, regarding him with pity.
"Who are you?" Lester's voice was filled with defensiveness and the irritation of having his predicament exposed. "Get lost."
Allen ignored his hostility, his gaze fixed on the candle in the distance.
A stream of analytical data from DSeek flowed through his mind.
[Target: Lester Green.]
[Status: Spiritual Power reserves low. Minor damage to Sea of Consciousness. Psychological State: Highly anxious.]
[Probable Cause of Failure: Fundamental cognitive error regarding the underlying logic of the Release Rune. Shaping Magic Power into a "projectile" rather than constructing a "Directional Force Field." Spiritual Power pathways are chaotic; energy vectors fail to converge.]
[Intervention Plan: Provide a disruptive theoretical model to shatter his flawed preconceptions and establish a new operational paradigm.]
"You're trying to 'hit' the candle flame."
Allen was stating a fact. "You gather your Spiritual Power into a clump, fail to properly inscribe the Rune, and then you just hurl it. That's why every one of your attempts is a struggle against Spiritual Power's natural tendency to disperse. It's not only incredibly draining, but also extremely unstable."
Lester was stunned. The stranger had described his process exactly.
"Furthermore, the essence of the Release Rune isn't to create a bullet."
Allen's voice was steady, as if he were explaining a basic math problem. "It's about creating a directional, instantaneous force field of released Magic Power. Your target shouldn't be the candle flame itself, but the space where the candle flame is."
He extended his slender fingers and made a gentle pushing motion in the air, not a throwing one.
"You're not trying to smash it with a rock. You just need to blow a puff of air at it."
'Blow a puff of air...'
This simple metaphor struck Lester's chaotic mind like a bolt of lightning.
In that instant, all his efforts over the past week, every agonizing attempt, seemed utterly foolish.
He had been trying to solve a problem that required finesse with brute force.
"The space... where the candle flame is?" he murmured, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and incredulous hope. The theory was so simple it seemed absurd.
Allen said no more, just stood there quietly, giving him enough time to process the paradigm-shifting concept. He had cast the bait. Now, he just had to wait for the fish to bite.
Behind him, Vera and Colin watched with their hearts in their throats.
They had never seen Allen be so... direct.
To them, it bordered on provocation. Colin nervously clutched the hem of his clothes, while Vera watched Lester with concern, afraid he would erupt with shame and anger.
But Lester didn't erupt.
An intense desire to survive overwhelmed his shame and anger.
He struggled to his feet and staggered over to the practice area. His head was still throbbing, and his Spiritual Power felt like a dried-up riverbed, with only a pitiful patch of damp earth remaining. But he had to try.
He stared at the small, motionless flame. This time, he didn't focus on the flame itself, but on the empty space just in front of the wick.
He followed Allen's analogy and tried to "blow" that puff of air.
He mustered the last wisp of his Spiritual Power, a force so faint he could barely feel it. He abandoned his old method of desperately compressing and shaping the energy, instead guiding the thread of power to inscribe the Rune.
An energy fluctuation, almost invisible to the naked eye, rippled out from his fingertips.
It made no sound, produced no light. It simply pushed forward in silence.
The next moment, the flame that had seemed welded to the wick swayed back ever so slightly.
Just once.
Just that one flicker.
Lester's breath hitched. He stared, transfixed, at the flame that had already returned to stillness, his heart hammering in his chest. It felt as if his very blood had ignited, surging through his limbs.
'It moved!'
'It really moved!'
Something he hadn't been able to do all week, he had just accomplished with a negligible amount of Spiritual Power after listening to just a few sentences from this stranger!
'This isn't a hallucination.'
He whipped his head around to look at Allen, his eyes shining as if he were looking at a savior. His voice trembled with excitement. "It... It moved! I did it! You... How...?"
"That's just the basic principle."
Allen cut off his rambling, his tone still even. "Proper casting also requires calibrating your Spiritual Power output and establishing a stable model for Magic Conductivity. It's a complete system."
He paused, letting the two words, "complete system," ferment in Lester's mind.
Lester calmed down. "What will it take for you to teach me?" he asked.
"My knowledge has value. So does my time."
The statement was like a splash of cold water, dousing half of Lester's fervor but igniting the other half into an even more intense blaze of desire.
He understood.
This wasn't free advice. It was a transaction.
But he didn't care! Compared to the hope of becoming a true Wizard, compared to the thought of his father's disappointed gaze, what was any price?
"What do you want? Magic Stones? I'll give you them!" Lester said urgently, desperate to grasp this lifeline. "Name your price! How much?"
In Allen's mind, DSeek had already completed its pricing analysis.
[Target Client has confirmed intent to purchase.]
[Psychological Assessment: Price insensitive. Willingness to pay: extremely high.]
[Pricing Strategy: Based on target's sunk cost (5-Magic-Stone potion), plus a premium for technical expertise and guaranteed results.]
[Recommended Price: 10 Low-Level Magic Stones.]
[Rationale: Price is double the sunk cost. This reflects the high value of the knowledge without exceeding the target's ability to pay, thereby facilitating long-term brand reputation.]
"Ten Low-Level Magic Stones," Allen stated the price, then added a crucial line, "I guarantee you'll completely master the Release Rune within an hour, and I'll give you the opportunity to join my Learning Mutual Aid Group."
Ten!
Vera gasped behind Allen, nearly crying out in shock. Colin's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open.
Ten Low-Level Magic Stones!
That was a month's worth of living expenses for them! Enough to buy two recovery potions!
All to teach a basic Rune that everyone else had already mastered? This was highway robbery!
Vera instinctively started to reach for Allen's sleeve to stop his madness, but her hand froze in midair.
However, Lester's reaction completely defied their expectations.
He didn't hesitate for a second. The thought of haggling didn't even cross his mind.
"Deal! Ten stones!" he said, impatiently pulling his Apprentice Identity Card from his robe. "I'll transfer them now! Just teach me!"
To Lester, these ten Magic Stones weren't just buying knowledge of a Rune.
He was buying hope. He was buying a future. He was buying a ladder out of Hell. Forget ten stones—he would have agreed to fifty without a second thought.
'It worked!' Allen had been gambling, too. DSeek's analysis was only a projection, but he had to act completely confident.
Allen took out his own card. The two smooth, black cards drew near in midair, and a soft white light connected them. With a trembling finger, Lester confirmed the payment on his card.
The first step of his business plan was a success.
Allen put his card away. The look in his eyes as he regarded Lester shifted subtly. The client had paid. Now, it was time to provide the service.
"Very good." His voice became steadier, taking on an air of indisputable professionalism. "Now, sit down. Cross your legs. Close your eyes."
Like an obedient schoolboy, Lester immediately complied.
"We're not going to talk about the Rune just yet."
Allen stepped in front of him. "Your problem's root cause is your control over your Spiritual Power. It's completely scattered. Before you can learn any technique, you must first calibrate the 'person' who will be using it. Now, follow my instructions and breathe."
He began to speak in a slow, rhythmic cadence, guiding Lester to regulate his breathing and gather his scattered focus.
Vera and Colin stood off to the side, dumbfounded, watching the surreal scene unfold.
Lester, who moments ago had been on the verge of a complete breakdown, was now listening to Allen's instruction like the most devout of followers.
And Allen, their usually taciturn companion, now seemed to have transformed into a seasoned mentor.
And so, in this humble practice room, a "custom-tailored" tutoring session worth ten Magic Stones officially began.