Genius Warlock

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The Wall.

It wasn't an official term, but more like a slang with various interpretations.

It could represent a limit to growth based on talent, or perhaps a limit to growth within the magic tower due to said talent.

Though it had different meanings, at its core, it remained the same—an enigmatic yet instinctive word.

However, despite its familiarity, Oliver couldn't fully grasp Kevin's meaning.

"Are you referring to Student Derick?"

"You seem quite skeptical."

"To be honest, I am a bit."

And indeed, Oliver was. He had faced Derick in two separate encounters.

The first took place during a class at the magic tower, and the second was at an investment party.

Throughout these face offs, Oliver witnessed Derick's remarkable improvement in skills.

He had transitioned from merely casting spells for attack to combining different forms of magic, enhancing both efficiency and power. Derick even displayed control over space by utilizing the unique attributes of fire magic, showcasing a profound understanding of the arcane arts.

In particular, his final move—a colossal whirlwind blended with flames that engulfed the entire stadium—was truly commendable.

Oliver had abandoned his usual approach of dismantling magic by targeting weak points in the spell formula, instead using his quarterstaff to quell the flames through sheer force.

"Honestly, I don't particularly like his personality, but his talent is commendable. He grasps the core concepts quite well when I teach him," Kevin admitted.

"It's not just talent; his willpower is also impressive," Oliver added.

"Really?"

"Yes, usually when a strong attack is neutralized, people hesitate. But Student Derick, even after his flames dispersed in the air, continued his assault while being engulfed by them. That requires exceptional fighting spirit."

With sincerity and no hint of exaggeration, Oliver conveyed his genuine observations.

Kevin stared at Oliver as if analyzing him.

"Truly interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"It's nothing… I don't disagree with what you've said. Derick, the lad, is arrogant, but he is equally tenacious. Once encouraged, he keeps up with even the most challenging lessons. However, there are different kinds of willpower."

"Different types?"

"Yes. Some individuals filled with self-pride can overcome any hardship or adversity to protect their dignity. But on the flip side, if their pride is shattered, their willpower can easily crumble."

"Are you suggesting that applies to Student Derick?"

"Exactly. Despite fighting on par with a professor's personal staff member who isn't even a wizard, he was humiliated by some warlock at a party attended by the city's elite."

"Isn't that old news?"

"The issue is that he's still stuck there. It's not surprising, though. It's like the fate of a mediocre genius. When faced with true genius, he despaired, had to endure disappointment and ridicule from those around him… Perhaps that's why he hasn't shown up for class yet."

Oliver recalled the contents of the diary and research journal of the lightning wizard he had previously defeated.

Those who entered the magic tower based on their talent but were ultimately expelled when their lack of aptitude was exposed.

The impact must have been significant. Self-doubt, scorn from others, whispers… It was something Oliver could hardly fathom.

Nevertheless, they fought desperately, even resorting to dubious dealings within the magic tower, only to find themselves on the streets, glimpsing new possibilities in their darkest moments. It was a tragic but also admirable journey.

"What's occupying your thoughts so deeply?" Kevin interrupted Oliver's contemplation.

"I… I was reminded of the diaries and research journals of the wizards I've defeated in the past."

"I can imagine what they contained. There were more than a few like them."

"Do you think… Student Derick will meet the same fate?"

"If his family withdraws their support, it's possible. Tuition at the magic tower is expensive, after all."

"Do you think his family will abandon him?"

"The possibility is quite high. Because of Derick, their planned investment in a power plant was ultimately overturned. In this situation, if he continues down this path… It'll be difficult for them to invest any further."

That meant his family could indeed cut off support, and Derick could find himself on the streets.

Well, that was also a path—a different one, not necessarily a bad one. However, as Oliver remembered that he himself is a professor's personal staff member, he sank into deep contemplation.

"May I ask for your opinion, Professor?"

"On what?"

"About student Derick being left in such a state. Isn't he your student?"

"It seems you still don't fully understand the terms. In the realm of magic, the relationship between a master and a disciple is unique. It becomes official only when both parties have a conversation and mutually agree to it. Derick is not my disciple. He is just one of the many students attending my class."

"So, you're saying you don't feel any sympathy for Student Derick?"

"Do you?"

"Well, I do find it unfortunate if he possesses talent and determination but breaks so easily…"

"I wasn't aware you held such a high opinion of Derick."

"Um, he is a student in your class… No, rather, I'm your personal staff member. Shouldn't I offer assistance if I can?"

Kevin stared at Oliver intensely, as if examining him. After a while, he spoke.

"…I don't care. If he's so easily broken, that's who he is. However, I won't stop you if you want to help him. Not that there's much you can do."

His response reflected more on Derick's character than on any doubt of Oliver's abilities.

Even if those around him attempted to lend a hand, there was little they could do if Derick himself didn't cooperate.

However, Oliver's response was resolute.

"If I can't help, then there's nothing more to be done."

"Must be nice to have such a simple perspective… Are you planning to meet him today?"

Oliver glanced at his wristwatch and shook his head.

"No, it's almost time to finish for the day. I have another place to go before that."

Oliver's response was firm.

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

"Here we are."

Led by a homeless man through the intricate sewer system, Oliver carried a box under his arm and arrived at a spacious open area in Landa's night.

It was the new home of the Poor Brothers, guided by the homeless man to their relocated shelter after their previous one was exposed due to an attack by Shamus.

The space was still in disarray, indicating their recent move.

Members of the Poor Brothers were busy setting up barricades with drums filled with cement in narrow passages, while women and children worked together to pitch tents.

Oliver observed the scene as he made his way in, eventually reaching the largest tent.

This was where Kent, the leader of the Poor Brothers, resided.

"Are you here?" the homeless man called out to Kent, who emerged from the tent, leaning on his quarterstaff like a walking stick.

Dressed in his customary beanie and long coat, Kent's injured arm hung limply from his sleeve.

"Hello, Mr. Kent," Oliver greeted him upon sight, and Kent responded with a smile.

The homeless man who had guided Oliver promptly left, receiving Kent's gratitude before his departure. Kent then invited Oliver into his tent.

"Are you feeling alright?" Oliver asked.

"What can I say? Everyone's working while I'm just taking a break. Anyway, thanks for your concern. Is that box filled with alcohol?" Kent teased, pointing towards the box Oliver carried. It was a lighthearted jest to alleviate Oliver's worry.

"No… Drinking alcohol while you're injured hinders the recovery process."

"True, but it's a bit disappointing… So, what's inside?"

"It's a prosthetic," Oliver revealed, opening the box.

"It doesn't look like an ordinary prosthetic."

"It's a golem prosthetic."

Indeed, it was true. Inside the box was an arm, not made of wood or rubber, but crafted from stone—a magical arm formed through the fusion of magic and stone.

"That's not an inexpensive item."

"That's why it guarantees high performance. Will you accept it?"

Despite thinking it was too much, Kent nodded after seeing the earnest expression on Oliver's face.

"Thank you, I'll gratefully accept it. I'll go to the technician first thing tomorrow to have it installed," Kent expressed his gratitude. Oliver handed him a business card and a receipt from his pocket.

"This is where I purchased the product. If you take the receipt with you, they'll proceed with the procedure."

"Thanks for thinking of me… I've heard that the golem prosthetic procedure is quite painful."

"Yes, I've heard the same. They have to tear the flesh to connect the nerves with the golem parts, so it's undoubtedly a painful process," Oliver responded based on what he had heard. Kent smirked.

"Thank you so much. You've given me the courage to go through with it."

"Well, if the procedure is successful, it's said to be much more functional than the original arm. You'll even be able to reach distant objects without getting up."

"That's quite an advantage. I'll gather the courage and get it done."

"Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me? I'm the one receiving help… Did you come here just to deliver this?" Kent inquired, as if he sensed something.

"In truth, I came to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"What did you receive in return?"

"In return?" Kent repeated, puzzled.

"About the ABC job. I can't imagine you took on such a dangerous task solely for the money."

Oliver's observation was astute. The Poor Brothers was a fairly large organization that gathered information from various sources—streets, bars, restaurants, hotels, taxis—but at its core, it existed to support the city's impoverished population. They had their limitations when it came to self-protection.

Knowing this, Kent always maintained a level of detachment and operated on a fine line. In a city where the deaths of the poor went unnoticed, the Shamus job was an exception.

"Why are you so curious about that?"

"I found it out of character for you to make that decision, so I was curious. You don't have to tell me if it's difficult."

"After receiving such a gift, it would be a shame not to share. Don't tell me, you brought it up with that intention?"

"Huh? No… Yes," Oliver realized Kent's playful mood and reluctantly played along.

It was rather awkward, but Kent chuckled. "Hehe, now you're learning how to joke too."

"I study for 30 minutes before going to sleep."

"Is that a joke as well?"

"No, it's true."

"Ah… Seems like you need to put in a bit more effort."

"Oh… I see," Oliver said, feeling slightly disappointed. He believed he had been trying quite hard.

"You're improving, just keep pushing a bit harder."

"Ah, thank you."

"Now, let's return to the original topic. You wanted to know the compensation I received, right?" Kent redirected the conversation.

"Yes… Of course, if it's difficult for you-"

"Not at all, it's not difficult. It was a promise to establish a welfare organization eligible for city funding."

"A welfare organization?"

"That's correct. A nighttime shelter for the homeless or a refuge to help workers who have lost their income due to unforeseen circumstances regain stability. The city proposed this condition. They offered to allocate a budget for a certain period and allow us to establish and operate such an organization."

"So, you accepted the ABC job for that purpose?"

"Yes, it was an offer too tempting to turn down."

"Um… Did you get it?"

"We're currently negotiating the amount and duration."

"You accepted without negotiating?"

"That's how it happened. It may seem foolish, but sometimes that's the decision that needs to be made."

To be honest, Oliver couldn't argue against it. After all, he himself hadn't entered into the mission without a clear idea of compensation.

Oliver contemplated for a moment before speaking up. "By any chance-"

"It's fine," Kent interrupted Oliver before he could finish his sentence.

"What do you mean it's okay?" Oliver asked, perplexed by Kent's response.

"Weren't you going to offer your help?" Kent inquired, seeming to have seen through Oliver's intentions.

"How did you know?"

"Well, I just had a feeling you might," Kent chuckled, shaking his head.

"I appreciate the thought, but I'll decline. I have ears too, you know. I've heard about your recent reputation. They say you took down Shamus all by yourself?"

"It wasn't for revenge; it was part of the job."

"Ah, right. I was the one who got you involved in this line of work in the first place, so I don't have any complaints… If you were to step in, the city would likely give us more favorable terms. The city likes strong individuals. But don't."

"Is there a reason why?"

"Because too much help can be poisonous."

"Pardon?"

"Too much help can be poisonous. If a baby struggles to stand on its own, and you keep helping, the baby will never learn to stand by itself. Of course, I've already received your help several times, but we can handle this one on our own. The process might be tough, and the result might not be satisfactory, but we have to do it ourselves. That's the only way to grow."

"Oh… that's a pretty cool way to put it."

"Isn't it? I learned it from Priest."

"Priest?"

"Yeah, the one who took me in when I was a street rat. He said that God gave humans the ability to think for themselves and the ability to move their own limbs so that they could think and act for themselves, for what they believe is right. Therefore, help should be a last resort."

"Oh, that's even cooler."

"Isn't it? So, I'll decline your help for now… If I ever really need help, I'll ask for it then. Can you help me then?"

"Um… I'll see."

"That's enough for me."

After their conversation, Oliver and Kent engaged in some lighthearted chatter, briefly sharing personal stories. They instinctively avoided delving into the specifics of each other's work, maintaining a healthy distance.

As their conversation topics neared exhaustion, Oliver rose from his seat.

"I'll come visit you again later."

"It would be nice if you could bring some alcohol next time."

"I'll consider it once your wounds have healed."

Oliver bowed to Kent, prepared to take his leave. However, Kent spoke up from behind him.

"You don't have to confine your acts of help to me."

"…Pardon?" Oliver turned around, surprised by Kent's statement.

"I mean, the act of helping someone. You don't have to limit it to me. In fact, I'm not particularly skilled at this kind of thing. I'm just doing my best."

"…I didn't have any specific plans, but then who should I help?"

"Anyone who catches your eye. Where's the best in good deeds? You just do it and see."

(To be Continued)

OR

$5/month6 chap ahead + 5 chap/week$15/month12 chap ahead + 5 chap/week$30/month19 chap ahead + 5 chap/week$45/monthAll advance chap + 6 chap/week

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