Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 4: Apprentice Market

"By the way, that breathing technique handed down in your Ralph Clan may not match the royal version, but it's still pretty decent, isn't it? So why didn't you ever..."

Andre inquired with curiosity.

Ron rubbed his head in embarrassment. True enough, from his past recollections, both his father and older brother had often inquired whether he wanted to pursue Knight cultivation.

Yet at that time, he was lost in debauchery, looking down on the grueling and laborious path of Knight training.

These days, he feels profound remorse, though regrettably, the opportunity has slipped away.

Andre caught sight of Ron's look and grasped the situation right away.

"I get it, during your days in the Royal Capital, you gained a reputation as a notorious spendthrift."

His voice shifted to a teasing lilt as he gently rotated the tea within his cup:

"I recall one occasion in the Royal Garden where you got utterly intoxicated and, right before a few ministers, you went ahead and..."

"Ahem!" Ron quickly cut him off, a flush of shame crossing his features.

The ridiculous escapades from his earlier life now struck him as pure horror.

Observing Ron's fidgety manner, Andre burst into hearty laughter:

"Fine, for the sake of these fifty Magic Stone Fragments, I'll keep your history under wraps."

He set down his teacup upon the table, his face resuming a measure of gravity: "That said, Ron, are you truly certain about this?"

"What are you getting at?"

"The 'Crown Breathing Technique' holds great power, yet that very strength makes its practice far more challenging than typical breathing methods."

A flicker of worry appeared in Andre's gaze, "Not even within our royal lineage does everyone succeed in conquering it."

"Furthermore," he hesitated briefly, "Given your present bodily state, rushing into such an advanced breathing technique could lead to..."

"I'm aware of the dangers." Ron broke in, "However, when stacked against what awaits me in three months, those dangers seem insignificant."

No matter what, he possessed a secret advantage, and one more motive for delving into breathing techniques was to check if it might unlock a special Knight-related profession, thereby boosting his power further.

Noting the resolve in Ron's stare, Andre let out a heavy sigh: "If you're this resolute, I won't attempt to change your mind."

Rising to his feet, he searched about and retrieved a pack of wrinkled handwritten pages from his satchel, clearly meant for convenient learning whenever needed:

"Here are the copies I made previously, including key cultivation tips and warnings."

"Yet I must caution you on something important."

Andre fixed his gaze firmly on Ron's: "Believing you can train independently just from these notes would be a serious error."

Ron regarded him with puzzlement.

"Advanced breathing techniques aren't so straightforward."

Andre shook his head, "They demand strict mentorship and precise physical conditioning approaches, or else deviation is all too likely."

His eyes fell on the stack of rumpled pages:

"Take the initial stage and the subsequent second one—they call for a custom 'Scorching Essential Oil' to harden the body. Should the mixture proportions be off or applied at the wrong moment..."

Andre indicated his torso: "In the mildest case, your flesh suffers burns; in the worst, flames erupt from your lungs outward."

Ron drew in a sharp breath; at last, he saw the folly in his earlier assumptions.

"Each phase also needs distinct physique-enhancing remedies."

Andre went on, "Like how the third phase demands 'Magma Dew,' and the ultimate phase calls for..."

Taking in Ron's somewhat ashen complexion, Andre grinned: "Relax, having accepted all those Magic Stone Fragments from you, I'll stick with you until it's done."

With those words, he passed the notebook over to Ron: "I've jotted down the recipes for these remedies, though the exact preparation steps need my direct supervision."

Ron took hold of the notebook and flipped to the opening sheet.

Among the thick script, alongside the breathing technique's core points, lay plentiful notes on elixir creation.

"Frankly speaking," Andre remarked while stowing the heap of Magic Stone Fragments, "I'm eager to discover just how far you'll advance with this breathing technique."

A hint of playfulness colored his words:

"Even among our royal kin, few achieve complete command of the 'Crown Breathing Technique'; the majority halt at the second stage without advancing."

"Is this your way of curbing my spirits?" Ron gave a bitter smile.

"Far from it?" Andre's grin broadened, "I'm actually motivating you."

He got to his feet, adjusted his apprentice's garment:

"Come on, let's head to the Herb Store first. The ingredients for the 'Scorching Essential Oil' may not be scarce, but the blend is vital, so I have to select them with you myself."

Watching the other's delighted expression, Ron came to understand—this prince must have been hoping for such an opportunity.

In a realm ruled by Wizards, after all, what value do mundane royal legacies hold? It pays to grab some real gains when possible.

And regarding those petty faction divides... in moments of survival or demise, who gives a thought to such minor concerns?

Once they departed the dormitories, Ron trailed Andre along a twisting stone trail.

"You wouldn't say you've rarely visited the market in these last few months?" Andre questioned while guiding, now and then glancing back at Ron.

Ron, somewhat uncomfortable, touched his nose. Yes, before, he seldom ventured out, confining himself indoors to grapple with the 'Basic Meditation Technique.'

He even depended on a messenger for everyday supplies. His sole regular trip out was monthly, to pick up the Magic Stone Fragments dispatched from his family.

"I recall you got your food brought straight to your quarters."

Andre laughed lightly: "Had I not sought you out today, I might've assumed you perished from hunger inside."

Eerie blue moss lit the stone trail.

Odd flora lined both sides, casting a spooky radiance under the night sky, with some twitching as people passed, and others unfurling dreamlike hues in the shadows.

"Watch out for these plants." Andre indicated a cluster of violet-glowing fungi on the earth, "Those are 'Nightmare Umbrellas,' capable of..."

"I'm aware." Ron automatically retreated several paces: "The entrance manual mentioned it—they emit mind-altering spores."

"Really?" Andre arched a brow, "Seems you studied the entrance manual thoroughly."

"Well, with just those texts around, there wasn't a lot else to occupy me." Ron offered a wry grin.

Back then, he dove headlong into meditating and studying, staying largely ignorant of external events.

"Truth is, I got tricked by one early on. During my debut week, I dozed off in that zone for a full day, only to awaken clutching a venomous Mandala. Since then, I've stayed extra wary of such hazards."

Andre thought it funny, right when he opened his mouth to reply, a piercing cry echoed from the distance.

From the bordering shrubbery, a gray-clad apprentice lurched forth, his right arm contorted like intertwining vines.

"Incidents like this occur a few times each month." Andre shook his head: "No need to fret, though—your hermit lifestyle keeps you safer, ironically."

"The apprentices' market lies just ahead."

Andre skirted past him, gesturing toward a weathered stone gateway in front:

"In there, nearly every item an apprentice could desire is available. Naturally, assuming you possess sufficient Magic Stone Fragments."

Crossing under the gateway, a strange aroma of botanicals and elixirs wafted toward them.

A feline in boots sauntered elegantly by, its coat gleaming with a metallic sheen under the faint illumination.

Following that, a band of gossiping tiny elves pursued a self-bouncing crystal orb.

Ron, lost in the sights, came close to bumping into a lofty form at an adjacent booth.

The massive, appendage-resembling form deterred him from nearing, prompting him to veer away.

"No need to tense up." Andre chuckled: "Kraken folk might appear frightful, but they make excellent trading allies—merely mind their speech, as their spit corrodes."