Ragnar called Liam aside for a short talk."Liam, since you want to take the mage academy's entrance test, I think it's best we speak with Master Grey. He's the only mage in the village, and I'm sure he knows the application process and what kind of training you'll need. He used to work for the noble family that governs the neighboring town. Now he's retired and handles tax collection here. But he's a bit eccentric, so make sure to be respectful and polite."
"Yes, Father," Liam replied earnestly.
The two set off down the village's uneven dirt path, lined with scattered farms and crooked trees swaying in the afternoon breeze. Birds chirped overhead as they neared the village outskirts.
There, nestled at the edge of the settlement, stood a house that seemed almost out of place. It wasn't large or lavish, but it was built with such care and refinement that it stood out like a polished gem among river stones. Its smooth stone walls, clean wooden beams, and carefully swept steps gave it an air of quiet nobility.
If someone were to look down from the sky, they might say it was a miniature manor nestled among humble cottages.
The father and son duo approached the door, and just as Ragnar raised his hand to knock, a grumpy voice called from inside,"Come in already, I heard your steps five paces ago."
Exchanging a quick glance, the two entered.
Inside, the modest but well-kept living room smelled faintly of old parchment and herbs. Seated at a sturdy wooden desk was an old man with a long white beard and a fringe of wispy hair circling a bald crown. He was hunched over a stack of papers, dipping a feathered quill into an inkwell as he scribbled something in looping script.
"What is it this time, Ragnar?" the old man grumbled without looking up. "Come again to ask me to lower the tax? I told you before, even if there was a drought last year, I can't do a damn thing about it. Half the levy is decided by the noble house. Unless you want a cell in their dungeon, you'll have to pay up like the rest. If that's all you came for, then you can turn right back around."
"No, sir," Ragnar said, bowing slightly. "I came to speak about my son."
Master Grey's eyes finally lifted from the parchment and settled on Liam. He squinted. "This brat? What about him?"
Ragnar gently placed a firm hand on Liam's shoulder, encouraging him. "Sir, my son is gifted in spellcasting. A real prodigy. If you would be willing to guide him… just a little… maybe help him prepare for the academy entrance tests—we would be forever in your debt."
Liam stepped forward at his father's cue and gave a respectful bow. "Greetings, sir."
"Sorry to say this, Ragnar, but no matter how talented your child is, why should I teach him?" Master Grey's voice was flat, unyielding. "Is your gratitude something I require? Thousands of commoners apply to mage academies every year, and only a handful ever get selected."
He leaned back, eyes narrowed. "Let me put it bluntly—there are commoners in towns and cities who've scraped together small fortunes just to afford magical training for their children. Just imagine the kind of effort, resources, and guidance they've poured into them. And you? A farmer?"
Ragnar lowered his head slightly, but didn't respond.
Grey scoffed. "Even if I were foolish enough to train him for free, there's no guarantee he'd be accepted. It would be a waste of time for both of us." He paused, then added with a glimmer of dry amusement, "But…"
Ragnar perked up. "But what, sir?"
"If you can pay me ten gold coins," Grey said slowly, "I might consider."
"Ten gold coins?" Ragnar's face sank, drained of all color.
He barely earned five hundred silvers in a good year—and a single gold coin was worth a thousand silvers. To amass ten would mean working for decades, with nothing left to feed his family.
"If you've nothing more to say," Grey said, turning his attention back to the parchment in front of him, "then you may return."
Before they could leave, however, he spoke again, this time directed at Liam.
"Boy," Grey said curtly, "don't get your hopes up. I say this not to crush your spirit, but to open your eyes. I don't sense even a flicker of mana from you. Most commoners can't. They light a twig or sprinkle water on a plant and call it magic. But casting a few parlor tricks doesn't make you a mage."
He reached into a drawer and flung a worn sheet of parchment onto the table.
"Here," he said. "If you really want to prove yourself and enter mage academy, complete the things on that list. If you can't manage even that much, then do yourself a favor and bury those dreams before they bury you."
On the way back, Ragnar walked in silence, his heart heavy with guilt.
Liam looked up at him and said quietly, "Don't worry, Father. It's not your fault."
Ragnar paused, then smiled faintly. Even at his age, Liam's understanding was beyond his years. The boy's words lifted the weight from his chest.
After supper, Liam climbed upstairs and lit a candle. He unrolled the sheet Master Grey had given him and read the requirements to qualify for a mage academy:
1)Must possess at least a White Mana Core.
2)Should be a Beginner Mage proficient in at least one of the four major elements—Fire, Water, Earth, or Wind
3)Must be able to increase spell output within a set time
4)Must pass all written assessments
(Optional but advised) Recommendation from a noble house, especially if you're a commoner
When Liam reached the last line, he felt as if the letters themselves mocked him. "Optional," they said—but in truth, it screamed mandatory. A bitter taste rose in his throat.
Different world, same chains.He clenched the paper, his heart burning with quiet fury.He hated systems like this—the kind that were never truly meant for people like him.
Setting the paper aside, Liam frowned.
"White Mana Core?""What about Mana he talked about before?"
He didn't understand a thing. What did those even mean?
The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. That old man clearly knew he wouldn't understand—but still handed him a list like it was a clear map.
Liam let out a sigh and muttered under his breath,"Stingy bastard… couldn't even explain the basics."