Ordinary

Matthew speculated to himself, “The unrest of the dark wizards has not yet been settled, and the situation remains turbulent. Perhaps that is why the academy has not fully reopened the path of return.

“But with such a prolonged lockdown, they might fear that the apprentices stranded outside would grow anxious and disperse... Therefore, they release a tiny thread of resonance. This maintains the connection between the apprentices and the academy, giving them hope, without causing everyone to rush back rashly and fall into danger before the crisis is resolved.”

Such an arrangement fit the typical rationality and restraint of a wizard organization—giving direction, but not providing an immediate path.

Snapping back to reality, Matthew believed about seventy to eighty percent of what Sutton had said. This meant everything the man had mentioned needed to be carefully pondered.

For instance, the grades of wizard apprentices...

Matthew carefully recalled Sutton's tone at the time.

When he said “Third-Grade Apprentice,” he had been completely calm, showing neither boastfulness nor humility, as if he were merely stating an objective fact.

Yet beneath that flatness, a high-and-mighty composure naturally leaked out, born of his strength and understanding.

And when Sutton mentioned that Matthew “wasn't far from becoming a Second-Grade Apprentice,” his tone carried the air of watching a little sapling grow.

Clearly, in the wizarding world, a Second-Grade Apprentice was nothing major. However, Matthew did not feel discouraged by this—to be close to the realm of a Second-Grade Apprentice in just a few short months made him quite satisfied with himself.

“But... how do I break through this bottleneck?” Matthew frowned slightly. “Do I really have to go and ask Sutton again?”

The moment the thought arose, he dismissed it.

Although Sutton had shown clear goodwill toward him, it was precisely because this goodwill had come so suddenly and in such abundance that it made Matthew feel a bit caught off guard and wary.

Matthew shook his head. He was not a stubborn person. If it really came down to it, there was no harm in going to ask.

His thoughts then returned to the wizard grades.

Recalling Sutton's expression back then, Matthew's mind wavered.

Third-Grade was certainly not the highest, but it was by no means low either.

He speculated that there probably weren't too many grades for wizard apprentices, perhaps five at most.

In that case, what kind of existence would an “Official Wizard” above the “Apprentices” be?

His first thought went to the chasm between ordinary people and Class holders—but with a turn of his mind, he dismissed the comparison.

If a Third-Grade Apprentice could already treat mortals like weeds, then the gap between an Official Wizard and an apprentice must be far greater and more immeasurable than that between a Class holder and an ordinary person.

It would likely be an absolute crushing defeat in terms of life level, cognitive dimension, and even form of existence.

However, the key details of this were currently completely beyond Matthew's ability to guess; everything was mere speculation.

Then, he thought of himself.

As it turned out, he was still only a First-Grade Apprentice.

Lately, his Spirit growth had slowed down. The invisible barrier in his perception was likely the threshold leading to the Second-Grade.

How was he supposed to break through? He had absolutely no clue for now.

This forced him to face his own talent—which was, in truth, nothing extraordinary.

The reason he could approach the level of a Second-Grade Apprentice in just a few short months was mostly due to the Spirit increase provided by the attribute panel.

The portion that truly came from his own cultivation was pitifully small.

But because of this, Matthew realized even more how powerful the panel was.

It could allow an ordinary person with mediocre aptitude to walk a path in a few months that took others several years or even longer. After catching a preliminary glimpse of the power of a Third-Grade Apprentice, this shock grew even more intense:

Such an existence was already a legend that even nobles in the mortal realm had to look up to, something completely out of reach.

So, what kind of scene would an Official Wizard be?

At this thought, Matthew's awe for the wizard class deepened by several notches. It was by no means comparable to mundane martial strength or political power; it was another realm of life that touched upon laws and controlled energy.

His thoughts gradually gathered back.

Matthew turned to consider his own safety.

He did not worry too much about Sutton moving against him—if the other party truly harbored ill intent, last night would have been the best opportunity.

Now that he had left the scene, if something happened to him in broad daylight under everyone's eyes, it would inevitably trigger an investigation.

Since Sutton's words showed he was wary of rumors, he likely wouldn't act rashly before figuring out Matthew's background.

In other words, before Sutton uncovered his true situation, Matthew was safe.

And by the time the man actually figured it out, Matthew should have already advanced to a Second-Grade Apprentice, at which point his ability to protect himself would also be greatly enhanced.

Furthermore, Matthew did not plan to flee in advance.

Sutton was currently his most direct window to the wizarding world. Maintaining contact and even building a good relationship with him would allow Matthew to gain more valuable knowledge and intelligence. Otherwise, if he rashly headed to the Fire Vortex Tower, the crises and competition he would face there would surely far exceed those of the mortal realm.

Without sufficient preparation, it would be no different from walking straight into danger.

Matthew was unwilling to miss the opportunity to deal with Sutton and extract information from him, nor could he afford to.

Of course, the prerequisite for everything remained his own strength.

Matthew's gaze turned calm. If he could train Energy Missile to a higher level, he would feel a bit more secure.

Once his mind was made up, he no longer hesitated.

Matthew refocused his mind. His mouth quickly and precisely chanted several strange incantations as his Spirit slowly circulated. In front of his fingertips, the air began to warp slightly once again.

The air in front of his fingertips began to warp, and a scorching, restless aura surged with it. His Spirit, like an awakened stream, surged along a specific path within his body, ultimately gathering in the palm of his hand.

A crimson fireball slowly took shape. At first, it was only the size of a fist, with flames rolling along its edges and its light flickering. Matthew focused intensely, feeling every bit of energy flowing at his fingertips as he tried to make it more condensed and stable.

The fireball gradually shrank, its color turning from crimson to a deep red, and the fluctuations on its surface slowly calmed down. A flash of concentration crossed Matthew's eyes. He then lightly raised his wrist and pushed forward—

“Whoosh!”

The fireball shot out like an arrow released from a bowstring, cutting through the damp morning air and trailing a fleeting tail of flame before accurately striking a bowl-thick tree trunk ten paces away.

“Boom!”

With a dull bang, the tree trunk shook violently. The struck area instantly turned charred and cracked, sending wood chips flying as a burnt odor wafted through the air. The flames did not extinguish immediately; instead, they clung to the damaged bark, burning for a moment before slowly dissipating.

【Fireball spell +1】

Matthew stared at the charred mark and slowly exhaled.

Both power and control had improved compared to before, but there was clearly still a long way to go before reaching a “higher level.” He was not discouraged; he merely raised his hand calmly once more—

In the air, another fireball began to condense.

The morning light filtered through the gaps in the forest, casting his practicing figure long and thin. The stream babbled in the distance, and birds chirped occasionally. In this quiet valley, only the faint whoosh of the fireball passing by and the light crackling of the burning repeated in a regular, persistent rhythm.

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