I look at the number of classes I’ll be attending:

History of Epretos I, mandatory Advanced Cantrips I, mandatory Fundamentals of Enchanting, mandatory Fundamentals of Magical Theory, mandatory History of Magic, mandatory

Well, most of those sound as boring as they get. The non-hidden elective classes looked really boring as well. Fundamentals of Alchemy? Yeah, no thanks. I’m no [Alchemist]. But I heard that this place is full of mysteries. Apparently, the best classes are literally hidden. Some professors are not even registered. Following the rumors, there are even illegal [Mages] hiding in the Nine Towers Academy to recruit disciples. It’s happened more than once that [Necromancers] infiltrated this place. And that’s because the [Archmages] don’t really care about what happens outside their towers.

Oh, right, some of the elective classes are, how can I put it… [Archmage]-specific. You need to be tutored to learn the most advanced stuff. Otherwise, your best bet is to stumble upon a mysterious hidden class and magically fulfill all the entry requirements.

The one good thing about this city is the insane amount of criminality. See, I don’t want to rely too much on Lord Juler and Princess Valarith. They are doing their own thing. So, I’d rather start using my own expertise, or well, others’ expertise instead of roaming around. I’ve already got all the addresses to start things up. Plus, there’s almost nothing in this city that interests me.

I’m in the attic of my building – it’s warded so strongly that it could literally vaporize any intruder. And my eyes are resting on the tower once owned by Sziezais. That is the one thing I’m genuinely interested in. But if even Princess Valarith got almost killed—nah. She might be a Vanedeni, but I can’t kill my hopes just because of that. She’s Vanedeni; I’m American, baby. I’ll nuke that place if I need to. Somehow, I’ll own it.

But first things first.

I go down the stairs and sigh loudly before looking at the one person who’s still here. Marcellus is sleeping on my couch. I’d bet my ass this guy is homeless. He stinks. He has this fantasy story about being a noble and whatnot. His magical talent is actually not that bad. But he’s clearly as broke as they come. Apart from maybe Alba, none of the other folks look wealthy either. Anneus is probably getting by thanks to his thieving skills – gosh, a guy with cerebral palsy going for [Thief]? Or [Magical Thief]? Or whatever class? He’s all the rage, man. Amelia gives me confusing vibes, but I’d bet she’s not doing that well either. She was clearly a bit famished as well. Zahra seemed restrained, but she has worked as a [Soldier]; so, it might be her discipline.

What a rag-tag group so far.

I look at the wards around the house, ensuring that nothing can blow Marcellus to pieces if he decides to steal something. I don’t really have anything valuable here – I carry everything of value on my own body.

I pass in front of the mirror, noticing my Elven complexion. At least Princess Valarith has kept it looking somewhat like my Human form. That’s good, I guess.

I walk through the door, entering the dark streets of the citadel.

It’s funny that the citadel doesn’t have a proper name. Some just call it Citadel, as if it was its name. But the truth is that the Nine Towers Academy is too big of a selfish behemoth to share the spotlight with anything else. Therefore, the citadel remains nameless. From what I’ve gathered, it’s considered just an extension of the academy in official dealings. And apparently, it pays regional taxes to the academy as well. Here, the [Dean] is kind of a [Mayor] as well. Weird, huh? And how does a [Dean] even class work? That would be cool to know, wouldn’t it?

I look around and then take out a map with a strange GPS function inscribed. What was the chant again for the fictional one? ‘I’m up to no good?’ I don’t remember. Whatever. As I take a few turns, I notice the housing quality declining. Some houses here don’t even have doors, and I can see squatters and the magical equivalent of crack houses through the sparse [Lights] placed around. Yep, that’s a thing, apparently. They have drugs here as well. Amorium is very well guarded, but the Nine Towers Academy doesn’t have an actual Watch. They have [Mages] that will blast you off the face of the Earth, but no proper law enforcement. Stupid, isn’t it?

I hear noise, shouts, and even music coming from an Inn. Or maybe a brothel. Hell, the place reeks of alcohol even from afar. But that’s where my map is pointing me to.

Well, let’s get mugged.

As I arrive where the people I’m looking for should be, I can feel powerful auras all around. Not exceedingly powerful, but still. And judging from the thick Mana around them, I’d suspect they are wearing some disguise—probably some [Mages] doing their shady business at night. Like me, basically.

I enter after putting on a special amulet. It’s a simple defensive artifact. Nothing too fancy, but better safe than sorry in a case like this.

As I approach the counter, I take a swift look around. It’s like the far-west, but with more races, crowded, and magical. That’s it, really.

There’s a huge half-giant at the counter with a murderous look in his eyes. He’s polishing a glass that is probably as big as my head. My actual head, not the Elven one.

“What can I get you?” his voice is raspy but not unfriendly.

I look straight ahead, not showing any emotions on my face. With a slow gesture, so as not to alarm the man in front of me, I take out a little bag with around twenty golds. I slowly move it toward him, already sensing some eyes on my back, and speak evenly.

“Information, and people who can provide it.”

The half-giant, a massive man, lick his lips and frowns.

“What’s your level and class?”

I can already hear people over my shoulder snorting at the question. It’s something you ask when you suspect you are dealing with rookies. It’s sort of a test, from what I gather. If the other person really tells you, they are a chicken ready to be plucked.

I have not had enough time to lay down the groundwork for conducting myself in the underworld. But I do know that a good first impression is always important.

I slowly turn around, facing the room, where now more than one person has their eyes and skills fixed on me. I can feel the people trying to figure out my level and class with artifacts and skills. Good luck with trying to bypass the protections on the hat.

A thought suddenly hits me. I was going to threaten everyone, but I’m currently wearing the disguise I intend to use for my entire stay at the academy. If I do something bad, people will know. Gosh, I should have put another layer of illusions on me. What a goddamn idiot.

With a sigh, I look at the man.

“I’ll just sit. If anyone is interested or has the right expertise, tell them to sit with me. I’ll pay for the drinks. A beer for me, blonde.”

I leave the money on the counter and walk to a table with a man already sitting there. My previous thought was to make a giant ruckus, but a smaller one will be enough. The guy looks threatening. And he’s a [Mage]. But his aura is nothing much. With a quick look and without using artifacts, I establish that his level is probably in the twenties.

“Fuck off,” I kick his chair.

He’s talking to his buddy at the next table when I literally have his chair crash to the ground. Many go wide-eyed at what I’ve just done.

It’s criminals. They appreciate theatrics and drama. Or at least some do.

Or do they?

The guy doesn’t even get up. He rolls over and points a wand at me. To avoid any problems, I simply blast him with a [Fireball]. It’s not too fiery, but it has enough ‘ball’ to knock him out or break a few bones. I’m not going to lose sleep over beating up a criminal.

The whole thing ends in under a second, with the guy now groaning and half-unconscious on the ground. I added a bit of [Sleep] to the spell. Most [Mages] are resistant to it, but not if you use it as a follow-up to an incapacitating blow.

I levitate the Elf away as I sit alone at the table. Man, I really hope that worked.

I look at the guy that was speaking with the one I just took down, and a question comes to my mind.

“Yo, was this guy in a gang? Do I have to beat up the whole gang now or something?”

“What? Him? No. He’s a dealer who works on his own.”

Huh.

“A dealer of what?”

“Wands, artifacts. If you need some not certifiable goods, he’s your man.”

Stolen stuff, ok.

“Better this way, I guess. Were you buying from him? Oh, and by the way, my name is Gioeius, a first-year student. Nice to meet you.”

“Is that your real name, kid? Are you an idiot? Whatever, I’m too sober to argue with you. Call me Breakstone.”

“Breakstone? Because you…”

“Break stones. If you ever need to take a wall down very fast and very quietly, I’m your man. I saw you moving some dead royals over there.”

I look at the counter he just nodded at.

“Dead what?”

“Golden grains? Juicy lemons?”

“Oh, now I get it. Money.”

“Yeah, kid, money,” he says, taking a puff from a weird cigar. “Every year, we get idiots like you. Students who want to know where the secret classes are, right? And you? What, enter a place full of dangerous people and just throw those golden grains around? That ain’t smart, Elf, let me tell ya’. You’ll get your tree trimmed if you know what I’m saying.”

“Listen, Breakstone, unlike other students, I know what I'm doing. Plus, I’m in the market for some other services as well. I need someone who can get me information about other students—gotta know the competition.”

The grizzly man takes another long puff from his cigar before sniffing and coughing.

“Bleah, this stuff is not good,” he says, eying his cigar with disgust. “But let me tell you something. This ain’t no business for students. Real players will come around tonight. And you better scamper off before—”

Suddenly, the whole establishment goes quiet as three people with lots of rings on their hands enter. Usually, it’s not the first thing you would notice about someone. Unless the rings had some big gems and shiny bands, like in this case. These guys look like they could give any mafioso in NYC a run for their money.

“The Fellows of the Ring,” a guy murmurs.

I snort some beer through my nose and start coughing violently to avoid choking. As it happens, I can see everyone looking at me from the corner of my eye.

Now, the problem is that I’d activated [Advanced Mana Sense] as soon as these three entered. And those rings, let me tell you, are no shoddy work. They aren’t relics, but they are the highest-grade artifacts in this room, except for my stuff. Meaning, they probably pack a punch. And all three have a strong aura, with their levels either in the early or mid-30s, I’d say.

“I think that kid has a problem with the Fellows, Murray,” one of the three criminals says.

I’m still choking on the beer when one of them points a finger gun at me, and everyone starts jumping away from the trajectory.