Wizard Bloodline

Like a droplet hitting the surface of a blackened lake, the tranquility was disrupted.

Ripples of white spread outwards.

Countless colored specks emerged from the dark edges, merging into those white ripples.

Inside the small room, candles made from beeswax burned quietly, occasionally flaring and popping softly.

Ronan sat calmly on his bed, eyes closed, his expression serene.

On the wooden edge of the bed, small words were clearly carved:

"The soul is the eternal abode."

A strange humming sound resonated, as if an invisible force suddenly radiated from Ronan.

His robe fluttered without wind, and the candle on the table extinguished instantly.

Darkness lasted for a few seconds before a single flame reignited, casting a warm glow on Ronan's handsome face.

"Ah—"

Ronan blew out the match in his hand, unable to hide the joy in his eyes.

Blinking, he summoned his character panel.

**[Name: Ronan Damien]**

**[Age: 16]**

**[Affinity: Non-Elemental]**

**[Level: Level 5 Wizard Apprentice (1%)]**

**[Skills: Basic Meditation Techniques (Expert 122/800), Energy Missile (Expert 635/800), Charged Weapon (Mastery 45/400), Rune Engraving—Cleanse (Proficient 135/200), Shine (Beginner 81/100), Ascetic Body Training (Proficient 75/200), Basic Swordsmanship (Beginner 21/100)]**

Level Five.

Finally, a Level 5 apprentice!

Ronan repeatedly checked his panel, only closing it with satisfaction.

Power is the foundation of everything.

In these turbulent times, every bit of strength gained brought him a greater sense of security.

"Unfortunately, low-grade Concentration Potions seem to have lost their effect on me."

Ronan sighed softly.

He doubted he could break the rule of diminishing returns after five potions.

He didn't want to try anymore.

To be honest, the fifth potion felt hardly worth its cost.

"From now on, if I want to use potions, I'll need mid-grade Spiritual Nourishment Potions. Those don't come cheap, costing fifty low-grade magic stones even before price hikes."

Now, Ronan estimated they'd cost at least a mid-grade magic stone.

Currently, he couldn't afford them.

"I'll need to save up, consolidate, and stabilize my newly gained mental strength through meditation."

Ronan pondered.

He hadn't expected to fall into "financial difficulty" again so quickly. Truly, the "potion path" wasn't for those of modest means.

It burned through money too quickly.

With his pockets empty, Ronan felt a strong drive to earn more.

Feeling refreshed and full of energy after his breakthrough, Ronan was about to delve into studying the [Protection] rune further.

But before he could warm his seat at the workbench, he heard someone softly calling his name from under the trees outside.

"Ronan... Ronan."

Alert, Ronan quickly grabbed the single-handed sword from the wall, securing it at his waist, hidden under his robe, before stepping out.

Since autumn had set in, the once abundant fireflies in the forest at night had dwindled.

Ronan stood at his treehouse door, squinting at the figure holding a lantern under the tree.

Once he confirmed who it was, he descended.

Grabbing a yellowing vine, he swung down gracefully and landed steadily.

Old Wills glanced up, surprised as if seeing Ronan anew, but said nothing, simply motioning, "Follow me."

With that, he turned and led the way.

Old Wills held the lantern, guiding them through the dim forest path, neither speaking.

On a narrow path, a sudden rustling came from the thicket ahead.

Startled, Ronan instinctively reached for his sword under the robe, both he and Old Wills halting simultaneously.

The noise ahead ceased abruptly.

Taking a deep breath, Ronan stepped in front of Old Wills, exchanging a glance before cautiously approaching the sound.

He was ready to cast a spell at any moment.

Moving forward a few steps, Ronan relaxed his grip on the sword hilt, his expression calm.

Ahead, a male wizard stood clutching heavy bags, gripping a twig-like wand emitting a faint white glow, his face pale and sweaty with tension.

Old Wills sighed, stepping aside, and Ronan followed suit.

The wizard, relieved, hurried past them with his belongings, too frantic to care about his disheveled appearance.

"Another one moving secretly at night," Ronan mused, watching the Level 2 apprentice vanish into the darkness.

The treehouse district's population had been dwindling, autumn bringing a touch of desolation.

The invasion rumors from the Black Wizard Lands had everyone on edge, driving treehouse residents to sell their belongings and move to town.

Fearing trouble, many chose to relocate under cover of night.

Every morning, Ronan heard of someone who'd vanished overnight.

"Let's go."

Old Wills urged Ronan quietly.

Ronan nodded, continuing, this time leading while Old Wills directed.

After about twenty minutes, they reached their destination.

Near Old Wills' home, a bonfire burned in a forest clearing, with five or six figures gathered, all eyes turning to Ronan and Old Wills as they approached.

"Ronan Damien."

Old Wills set down the lantern, pulling back his hood, introducing Ronan to the group.

"A Level 4 apprentice... one of us."

Ronan nodded to each by the fire, a golden-haired, chubby youth with a hint of baby fat speaking excitedly, "Great! With Ronan and Linus, our little group is much stronger."

The others agreed, smiling, casting respectful glances at Ronan, then turning toward another figure.

Since the conflict with Eugene, Ronan's name had spread through the treehouse district, so he wasn't surprised they knew him.

He was curious about the other person, Linus.

Following their gaze, Ronan's expression turned serious.

Linus was a tall, lean young man with a cold demeanor, gray hair braided and tied back, exuding an air of arrogance.

But he had reason to be proud—he was a Level 5 apprentice, absent from the previous gathering.

"A Level 5 apprentice in the treehouse? Old Wills managed to recruit such talent? Impressive..."

Ronan's thoughts raced.