Wizard Bloodline

The landscape was littered with fallen, burning trees, lawns blasted apart by spells, and thick smoke billowing from all directions. Occasionally, charred or frost-covered corpses appeared, clearly the work of fellow wizards.

"Fear breeds evil," Old Wills muttered, leaning on his cane, as faint screams echoed around them. Everyone tacitly agreed not to investigate further. The scene seemed to stir unpleasant memories for him.

Ronan's gaze lingered on a shattered, collapsed treehouse ahead, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes. He wanted to go home.

In the past two months, he had amassed a collection of magic stones and unsold runestones, his entire fortune hidden beneath an oak tree near his home, covered with layers of leaves, branches, and stones.

He had to retrieve it.

However, the route they were taking to the town was far from Ronan's home. It would require a significant detour.

If Ronan were alone, it wouldn't matter, as he could move quickly. But he couldn't abandon the elderly, injured, and young members of his group.

As Ronan pondered his options, two figures suddenly emerged from the forest ahead.

The group was instantly on alert, Ronan ready to unleash an [Energy Missile] at any moment.

The newcomers were equally startled, retreating several steps in panic.

Seconds later, the leader, a middle-aged wizard with graying brown hair and a short beard, exclaimed in surprise and delight, "Wills! Is that you?"

Ronan paused, turning to Old Wills.

"Do you know him?"

Old Wills nodded, "An old friend."

He quickly hobbled over to engage in conversation with the middle-aged wizard.

Ronan stood about ten meters away, eyes narrowed, watching the two intently.

Though Old Wills claimed they were friends, in this chaotic situation, it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe. Longtime friends could easily turn treacherous.

Ronan's keen senses picked up snippets of their conversation, which seemed to involve him, as the wizard frequently glanced in his direction.

After a brief exchange, Old Wills returned to Ronan.

"Barry Fania and his son want to join us on our journey to the town. If you don't agree, I'll refuse them."

Ronan understood that the pair sought the protection of his intermediate apprentice status for the journey.

Reading Old Wills' implicit suggestion to reject them, Ronan considered briefly but decided to accept.

"Alright, they can join us."

Old Wills' expression turned complex, thanking Ronan quietly before turning back to convey the news.

Ronan remained calm. Allowing the pair to join wasn't just to spare Old Wills discomfort. He reasoned that in a dire situation, these outsiders might prove useful.

"When did I become so cunning and ruthless?" 

Reflecting on his transformation, Ronan realized the change was a response to the harsh realities he had witnessed during the chaos.

"These changes are forced upon us," he thought.

Old Wills returned with the father-son duo, who showed Ronan proper respect. 

Despite his youthful appearance, Ronan's genuine intermediate apprentice strength, combined with his body training, gave him a powerful physique. Having personally slain two intermediate-level black-robed wizards, his imposing aura, tinged with the scent of blood, intimidated lower-level apprentices.

Barry's son, a Level 2 apprentice, exemplified this, stammering through introductions, much to Barry's chagrin.

With the group expanded to six, Ronan's plan to retrieve his belongings seemed increasingly impractical.

However, the larger group, now bolstered by additional strength, deterred many prying eyes in the chaotic forest.

Gradually, Ronan noticed more people trailing them.

Initially suspecting bandits, he soon realized they were lone wizards seeking safety in numbers, hoping to benefit from the group's protection.

Despite several attempts to disperse them, Ronan's reluctance to resort to violence emboldened others, swelling their numbers to over a dozen.

Ronan was at a loss.

Just as he pondered how to handle the situation, Barry stepped forward, offering to resolve the issue.

Curious about Barry's solution, Ronan allowed him to proceed.

Minutes later...

Their group had swelled to twenty-two!

"Your solution was to turn followers into companions?"

Ronan's eye twitched as he regarded Barry, speechless.

Barry, slightly abashed, quickly explained, "I arranged for them to pay a fee. Once we reach town safely, each must pay you four low-grade magic stones as a protection fee."

Genius!

Ronan felt like giving Barry a thumbs-up.

The treehouse district truly didn't support freeloaders.

The last person to earn such a compliment from Ronan was the blonde, chubby Jacob with the innate eight trigrams holy physique.

Since he couldn't shake them off, charging them for protection ensured he wouldn't lose out.

In retrospect, there seemed no better way to handle it.

Leading the sizable group toward town, Ronan abandoned thoughts of retrieving his belongings for now. The valuables buried beneath the tree could wait.

"I need to replenish my mental energy..."

During the journey, Ronan contemplated his dwindling reserves.

With his [Energy Missile] nearing expert-level mastery, each casting consumed more mental energy.

At full strength, Ronan could cast [Energy Missile] eight times as a Level 5 apprentice before needing to meditate and recharge.

Having fought twice, expending four [Energy Missiles], his mental energy was halved.

Moreover, after battling the black robes, each spell seemed to drain even more, leaving him uncertain if the remaining energy would suffice for four more casts.

"[Energy Missile] might be ready to level up..."

Ronan sensed a change was imminent, feeling both anticipation and a touch of anxiety.