Gauss looked at the crowd blocking the doorway, then turned to Lawrence with a puzzled expression.
He was pretty sure Lawrence had gone to help him find a few apprentices to train with, right?
Why were there so many people all of a sudden?
Was this a gang fight? A bunch of them versus just him?
“Uh… everyone heard you were training defensive magic and got really enthusiastic,” Lawrence chuckled. “They all volunteered, hoping to see if they could help.”
Though Lawrence had been a bit frustrated earlier—after all, he’d failed to even break Gauss’s defenses despite going all out—these people had shown up on their own. Not his fault. He had only casually mentioned how solid Gauss’s defense magic was, and the other apprentices’ eyes lit up immediately.
After all, who doesn’t like a good, sturdy spell dummy that gives quality magical feedback?
Students who trained in defense-related cantrips were fewer in number, and most defensive spells weren’t durable enough to endure repeated hits. So finding a good “punching bag” wasn’t easy.
A male apprentice stepped forward from the crowd.
“My cantrip is Lightning Claw. Please be careful.”
Though polite in speech, his training style was aggressive.
Without much warning, he activated his spell. A blue arc of lightning wrapped around his hand. With a sweeping motion, the electric current crackled toward Gauss, surging along his fingertips before converging on Gauss’s body.
Lightning was dangerous for normal people, but this Lightning Claw was just a cantrip cast by an apprentice. Its intensity wasn’t extreme.
Gauss watched the flickering bolts dance across his Mage Armor like glowing snakes. It left him with a mild tingling sensation, but nothing serious—his magic-resistant Mage Armor absorbed most of the impact.
“He really withstood it?”
“That defensive spell is strong… kinda looks like Mage Armor, but that’s a Level 1 spell!”
“Can’t be. I thought Mage Armor was weak against magical attacks?”
“Shh! Don’t you know it’s taboo to pry into someone else’s spellwork?”
There were countless types of spells in this world—some sealed in gems, buried in ruins, or woven into the natural flow of mana. So in theory, anyone might possess some mysterious technique unknown to others.
Most spells weren’t perfect, and the more obscure they were, the more private their users tended to be. Sure, common cantrips and spells were no big deal—anyone could recognize them by sight.
But Gauss paid no attention to the murmurs. He was too immersed in the subtle resonance of the electric sting against his Mage Armor.
Just as he was really getting into it, the shocks suddenly stopped.
That’s it? he thought.
He looked up to see the male apprentice panting slightly, wearing a somewhat embarrassed expression.
“Sorry, I’m out of mana.”
Gauss clicked his tongue. He was a little disappointed the session was cut short, but he still politely said, “Thanks for the effort.”
He knew not everyone had the same conditions he did. His abundant mana pool allowed him to cast Level 1 spells multiple times—a feat unimaginable for most apprentices.
Many apprentices, especially those without support or resources, couldn’t even sustain low-level cantrips for long.
This was the reality of an average spellcaster’s life: they had to manage every drop of mana with care. Only upon reaching full professional status—when mana pools expanded and core skills became more efficient—did things get better.
Mage Armor Lvl.3 (5/50)
In one session, his newly upgraded Mage Armor gained multiple points of proficiency—an impressive pace.
Under normal circumstances, training shouldn’t be this efficient. But the sheer variety of spell attacks being thrown at him made all the difference.
His Mage Armor seemed to be in an adaptive, data-absorbing state—constantly learning and evolving.
Every new spell added a bit of growth.
Gauss chomped on a piece of jerky he had brought along.
Even with his larger mana pool, facing attacks from eight or nine spellcasters in a row was no joke.
He refreshed his Mage Armor a few times, and with the help of his Quick Digestion trait, he replenished his mana while eating.
In the end, he ended up completely draining the mana of every apprentice present.
Now they were all slumped against the walls and benches, pale-faced and meditating with their eyes closed.
Gauss shook his head. Ordinary apprentices simply couldn’t keep up with him.
A Level 1 spell like Mage Armor already had a big advantage over cantrips—and his version wasn’t exactly “normal” anymore.
Add to that his superior mana reserves and ability to recover during training—it just wasn’t a fair fight.
Unless they ganged up on him all at once, nobody could outlast him one-on-one.
Honestly, despite the interruptions, the session had been quite satisfying.
At least, seeing his skill level shoot up rapidly was gratifying. He didn’t particularly enjoy being the target, but the progress made it worth it.
Seeing the others all too drained to continue, Gauss nodded to Lawrence and took his leave.
Once he was gone, the apprentices leaning against the wall finally sighed in relief and collapsed onto the benches.
“Lawrence… who is this guy, really?”
“You sure he’s not a professional spellcaster in disguise?”
For the first time, Lawrence felt vindicated. Looking around at their stunned expressions, he was glad it wasn’t just him who’d felt outmatched.
“Ha, you think I’d rope in a full-fledged mage to play act for you?” Lawrence laughed, shaking his head. “And he came with a recommendation from Madam Andeni—of course he’s strong.”
That name made everyone go quiet.
Everyone here knew exactly who Madam Andeni was.
The founder of their association. A Black Iron–rank adventurer. A living legend, as far as they were concerned.
Knowing Gauss was connected to her, even the faint traces of jealousy or defiance melted away.
They were clearly not on the same playing field.
“We should make the most of this chance to practice our cantrips. Opportunities don’t come often.”
Nobody said anything aloud, but they all silently agreed.
Whatever. A top-tier spell dummy is still a top-tier spell dummy. Might as well train while they could.
“Lawrence, is he coming back tomorrow?”
Meanwhile, Gauss strolled through the streets of Wormwood Town, noticing each town had its own unique charm.
Grayrock was all stone buildings and dusty roads—a typical adventurer hub.
Wormwood, on the other hand, was full of greenery and natural design.
He also noticed that many returning adventurers weren’t carrying monster trophies, but rather bundles of fresh herbs.
Clearly, the town’s herbal industry shaped every aspect of its culture.
By the time he arrived at the town’s night market, it was bustling with people.
Set in a small plaza among low residential buildings, it was full of vendors and open stalls. Some laid down cloth tarps and displayed their wares right there on the ground.
Gauss wandered through the market, dazzled by all the options.
There were herb sellers, stone dealers, tool peddlers, book vendors hawking “skill scrolls,” and apprentices selling potions and powders.
It was a wild mix of genuine goods and scams.
No wonder Lawrence had warned him earlier to keep his eyes sharp—plenty of traps here.
Gauss stopped at a book-and-scroll vendor and crouched down, scanning the items laid out.
“Take your time,” the vendor said coolly, clearly not one to hard-sell.
[Herbal Guide to the Wormwood Region]
[Dancing Light Analysis]
[Archmage’s Manuscript]
A quick scan revealed a dazzling variety.
But Gauss was skeptical—an “Archmage’s Manuscript” in a roadside stall? Really?
Curious, he picked one labeled Mage Hand and asked, “Can I open this?”
“Sure. But don’t read too long.”
Gauss unrolled the scroll and quickly scanned the dense, tiny script and accompanying diagrams.
After a few moments, he rolled it back up.
Since he actually knew Mage Hand, he could instantly spot the inconsistencies.
Even if the scroll looked legit, it couldn’t fool him. Anyone who tried to learn from it would just be wasting time.
He silently put the scroll back and moved on.
Maybe it could fool a newbie or an untrained apprentice, but not him.
Some incomplete hand-copied spell pages were selling for 2–5 silver coins. Full secondhand cantrip scrolls? Almost 30 silver!
If they were real, maybe. But they clearly weren’t.
He couldn’t imagine the heartbreak of some hopeful commoner scraping together their life savings, only to waste it all on fake learning materials that wouldn’t yield anything after months of effort.
For ordinary people trying to become spellcaster apprentices, the first barrier wasn’t even learning magic.
It was money—and figuring out how to buy real scrolls.
Gauss was lucky. He could roughly sense the authenticity through his magic and experience.
But how could a commoner possibly tell?
Becoming a professional spellcaster was truly a difficult road for the average person.