New Life As An Overpowered Mage With Infinite Classes

Chapter 3 : [Solar Breath]

Hearing this news, Robb wasn't surprised.

Triss had the humblest origins among their group of countrymen, but also the highest magic aptitude.

He could still remember the first time he saw that frail girl, long brown hair tied carelessly into a bundle with hemp rope, patches sewn onto her clothes.

According to the well-informed Arnor, she was nothing more than the daughter of an ordinary hunter from the mountain wilds.

The white-robed sorceress had dug her up from some remote valley, and somehow, she'd tested at a third-magnitude magic aptitude.

The so-called magnitude system was a standard for magic aptitude that the mages had developed based on astronomical concepts.

First-magnitude was the highest; sixth was the lowest.

Robb had tested at sixth-magnitude, barely scraping past the threshold. Arnor was slightly better at fifth-magnitude.

The gap between each magnitude was a full 2.5 times, and the multipliers stacked.

The difference between first and sixth magnitude was a hundredfold.

Third-magnitude was the dividing line between mediocrity and genius.

Anyone at that level was considered to have a real chance of ascending to Morning Star Mage, provided they didn't die along the way.

As for sixth-magnitude... even reaching the rank of High Apprentice would be an uphill battle. Only marginally better than a mundane, a squash among pumpkins, perhaps.

Robb mocked himself inwardly while dropping a few precious black nettle leaves into a cup. He pulled out a thermos flask and brewed a cup for Arnor.

"Oh, well now. Quite generous today, aren't we?"

Arnor studied the ceramic cup placed before him. Through the rising steam, tiny black particles could be seen bobbing in the tea.

"These days, even getting a sip of this bitter black nettle brew isn't easy."

His large, callused fingers gently traced the rim of the cup, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"I have to say, I didn't expect the young lord of House Stark to bring out such a treasure for his guest."

Indeed, this tea, capable of jolting one's mind to alertness, was a rare commodity in the Black Mist Forest.

It didn't taste good. In fact, it tasted absolutely dreadful.

First came a stinging, almost painful spiciness on the tip of the tongue, followed immediately by a bitterness so intense it induced nausea, and finally, an unpleasant numbing sensation in the throat.

All courtesy of the trace toxins it contained.

But it was precisely this ability to keep a drowsy mind sharp that made it a coveted treasure among Initiates burning the midnight oil for their advancement.

Robb watched Arnor's affectation of elegance and smiled to himself.

The prince's situation, truth be told, wasn't much better than his own.

"If Your Highness enjoys it, another day I could..."

"Stop right there."

Arnor raised one hand. The smile on his face remained, but his tone gained an edge of wariness. "This uncharacteristic generosity of yours is making me more worried, not less. Out with it, what do you want?"

Robb chuckled softly. He'd known the Thirteenth Prince would see right through him.

Back in the capital, Arnor had been famous for this kind of unassuming perceptiveness, which was precisely why his elder brothers were so wary of this outwardly modest sibling, wary enough to find an excuse to ship him off here.

"Very well. Since Your Highness is being direct, I won't beat around the bush either."

Robb straightened up, his tone turning serious. "I'd like to purchase the Solar Breath from you."

"Pfft...!"

Arnor nearly spat out the tea he'd just sipped. The mask of elegance he'd maintained finally showed a crack.

He hastily set down the cup, disbelief flashing across his face. "What did you just say?"

"The Solar Breath," Robb repeated, his gaze unwavering. "I know it's one of the core inheritances of the Royal House of Farwynd, and the most powerful breathing technique in the Farwynd Kingdom."

Arnor's expression turned severe in an instant. The warm, courteous demeanor vanished entirely, replaced by a sharpness that belied his age.

"I never expected you to make such a request. This is the very foundation of our royal house..."

"I understand, Prince Arnor. I truly do." Robb interrupted calmly. "It's precisely because I understand its value that I'm offering this price."

As he spoke, he produced a cloth pouch from inside his clothes.

When he poured its contents onto the table, Arnor's pupils contracted slightly.

It was a pile of crystalline fragments, emitting a faint glow in the dim candlelight, Mana Crystal Fragments.

Here in the Black Mist Forest, Mana Crystal Fragments were the only hard currency among apprentices.

A hundred fragments could be exchanged for one Mana Crystal, though few were ever willing to make that trade.

A single fragment was enough to live lavishly in the nearby market towns.

Ten could buy a strong beastfolk slave.

As for the copy of Fundamentals of Meditation distributed by the white-robed mages? It was priced at merely one Mana Crystal.

"Thirty Mana Crystal Fragments." Robb enunciated each word deliberately.

Arnor only scoffed, not even glancing at the fragments on the table.

"With just this... are you trying to tip a beggar?"

"You're right." A bitter smile tugged at the corner of Robb's mouth as his gaze lingered on the pile. "Thirty is far too little."

He fished out a few more fragments from inside his clothes, added them to the pile, and placed them gently on the table. "How about forty?"

Arnor maintained his cool expression, though his eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing something.

Robb knew it was time to play his trump card.

"As you know, with my magic aptitude..."

He paused, his tone tinged with self-deprecation.

"That pitiful sixth-magnitude, becoming an Elementary Apprentice within three months is virtually impossible. When the time comes, it's either becoming experimental material or exile into the wilds. And I..."

Robb's voice softened, carrying an almost imperceptible tremor.

"I don't want to die. At the very least, not without dignity."

Arnor's expression eased slightly, but he quickly restored his mask of indifference.

"And so?"

"So I need the Solar Breath."

Robb looked Arnor straight in the eye. "Of all the breathing techniques I know of, it has the strongest effects and the highest potential."

He added another ten fragments to the table. "Fifty. That's everything I have. Please."

Arnor stared at the small, faintly glowing pile of crystals on the table and fell silent.

Robb knew what was giving him pause. Ultimately, these secular nobles were barely distinguishable from commoners in the eyes of the lofty mages.

But these supernatural inheritances, the very things mages couldn't be bothered with, were the foundation upon which the Royal House of Farwynd ruled over ordinary people and other noble knights. They were the capital needed to survive in this world.

"You know," Arnor finally spoke, a note of weariness in his voice, "this isn't just a matter of money..."

"I give you my word," Robb said solemnly. "This technique will never reach a third person. And besides..."

His gaze lingered on Arnor for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully.

"I've noticed you've been delving into other mage arts lately. I imagine you could use some extra resources."

That remark clearly hit its mark. Arnor's eyes flickered, and a resigned smile crossed his face. "Robb, you certainly know how to find a person's weak spot."

He sighed softly. "I must say, you're far more... cunning than I expected."

Thinking back to the taciturn count's son from a week ago, then looking at the smooth negotiator sitting before him now, Arnor couldn't help but feel a twinge of wonder.

This kind of change wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"However..." He straightened up, his tone returning to its usual elegance. "If I'm going to teach you the Solar Breath, we'll need to start from the very basics..."