What if It Really Can Be Solved?

The smell of alcohol drifted through the tavern air as Ansu and Vera continued to listen, the atmosphere in the hall growing increasingly heated.

"Brother, they've already started cursing..." Vera's eyes couldn't stop darting toward those two tables.

"Mhm." Ansu lightly pressed the back of her hand, signaling her to stay calm.

At first, the group of mages was just being passively self-deprecating or complaining, but gradually... their negative emotions snowballed. Their speech began to brim with aggression.

For instance, they cursed the "Church dogs" and criticized the rotting Empire for its inaction...

They even went as far as mocking Novalon as a fanatic country and a fragmented empire.

Seeing that the mages' remarks were becoming more dangerous, Vera's eyes narrowed. She reached out to tug on Ansu's arm and leaned her small face close to him.

Ansu looked at her, and Vera mouthed the words:

'Brother... these low-level mages aren't planning to lash out at society, are they?'

The more Vera thought about it, the more likely it seemed!

Today, she and her brother had followed the smuggling chain all the way from the school to the underground black market, and finally, all clues pointed here. The biggest buyer of Safe Magic Crystal No. 1 was definitely the Northern Magic Mutual Aid Association!

And the current state of these people was precisely the kind most likely to turn to extremes...

"Dammit! A single gram of mithril is about to hit five thousand Empire Livres! If this keeps up, I'll have to say goodbye to my staff; I won't be able to maintain it anymore!"

"At least bread hasn't risen to that price yet..." someone tried to comfort with a bitter smile.

"Every magic material is strictly controlled by the Church, and then they turn around and jack the prices up to the heavens! Dammit! That bitch, the Goddess of Holy Light... not a single person in her Church is any good! They're doing it on purpose; they really want to drive all us casters to our deaths..."

Just as the clamor and hostility were reaching a peak, the gentle voice of an elder suddenly cut in.

"Children, being so radical isn't good. Anger solves nothing."

A silver-haired old woman with a kind face was carrying a pitcher, slowly refilling everyone's empty mugs.

"At my age, the deepest realization I've had in life is to always look on the bright side..."

The old woman's gaze slowly swept across the young faces as she smiled. "What if someone really could solve the problem of magic pollution?"

The mages responded with helpless sighs.

"President, please stop joking..."

"Solve the magic pollution problem? A thousand years have passed; has anyone ever done it?"

"The magic pollution problem is fundamentally unsolvable. President, you're already at this age... haven't you given up on that dream yet?"

"If this thing could really be solved, I'd straight up eat shit, okay..."

Listening to these words of excitement or despondency, the old President didn't argue. She just sighed softly, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes appearing deeper.

Right then, a strange and young voice suddenly spoke up.

"I, for one, think the magic pollution problem really can be solved."

The chaotic atmosphere fell silent for a moment. Many people instinctively frowned, with skepticism and rebuttals nearly at the tips of their tongues.

All the mages' eyes shifted toward Ansu.

When they saw the speaker's overly young face and the obedient, cute little girl beside him... several mages exchanged looks, finding it somewhat absurd.

"Whose kid is this?"

Someone finally let out a scoff and shook their head, unable to even muster the interest for a serious discussion.

"Young people just love to talk big..."

"Forget it. Magic was cursed by the gods long ago! We mages are born outcasts abandoned by God... If this matter were really that easy, you'd have to deal with the gods themselves, and that's impossible..."

As everyone discussed, the President carrying the pitcher had already slowly walked over to Ansu's table.

She had a gentle and kind smile, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothing out. Ansu's first impression of her was very good.

"Welcome to the Mutual Aid Tavern. What would you two like?"

Ansu met her gaze and smiled. "A mug of barley beer, please. Thank you."

The President's gaze shifted to the little girl.

Vera's eyes lit up. Just as she was about to speak, Ansu interrupted her with a tone that brooked no argument. "Just a glass of juice for my sister, please!"

The President nodded with a smile and turned to leave.

Vera looked at her brother, her small mouth pouting with dissatisfaction. "Brother... why do you always treat me like a child?"

Ansu looked her up and down, then blinked. "Aren't you?"

"I..." Vera paused, then straightened her back defiantly. "Brother! Did you forget that I'm the big hero of the day? Please don't treat me like a child! Aside from being a bit small... I'm actually quite mature!"

Ansu instinctively glanced at Vera's chest, which had almost no curve to speak of.

"Oh... is that so."

Vera followed his gaze downward, and her momentum instantly withered away.

She hung her head in sorrow.

On this point, Vera had to admit she lost to a certain bad woman and Sister Freya...

Just how can I get bigger??

"Young man, you're a mage too, aren't you?" The President came back again, gently placing two oak mugs from her tray in front of the siblings.

She observed Ansu with a hint of curiosity. "I can feel... quite a strong mana surging within you? However, I can't quite gauge your rank."

Ansu nodded. "I am a mage."

High-tier individuals could often easily see through the mana levels of low-tier ones. The fact that this President could tell he was a mage but couldn't clearly judge his specific rank meant the gap between them wasn't vast.

The President was likely a mid-tier mage as well.

Regarding magic ranks, there was generally a rough classification: mastering three 1st to 3rd Circle spells made one a low-tier mage; 4th to 6th Circle made one mid-tier; and 7th Circle or above was high-tier, enough to be called a master.

Though this method wasn't precise, it intuitively reflected a mage's depth of understanding of mana control and magic systems.

However, although Ansu was mid-tier, he was the type with relatively average stats but very unconventional 'methods.' Even if a high-tier stood before him now intending to kill him... he could use various ways to screw them over.

Of course, even if he really couldn't win...

He could always call the Witch over to save the day and let the enemy experience the beauty of overwhelming strength...

Ansu's gaze slowly drifted toward the other two tables.

The President was clearly the highest-ranked mage present, followed by that bespectacled middle-aged man over there. That man was engrossed in something, burying his head in a manuscript even amidst the noisy gathering.

"Are you... here to join our Northern Magic Mutual Aid Association?" the President asked curiously. The appearance of a talented young stranger here was unusual in itself.

Although Ansu hadn't come to join the association, he didn't mind getting closer to the organization for the sake of the case.

So he looked at Vera and smiled. "My sister and I have always been curious about magic, but we've just been figuring things out on our own. We still have many questions about real magic. We heard there was a mages' organization here and took the liberty of coming to see if we could learn something."

"To reach this level through self-study..." The President couldn't help but sound amazed. "Then you truly are a genius!"

On the other side, the bespectacled man put down his manuscript, his gaze carrying a hint of wariness. "Where are you from? You don't look like locals."

"Benalu City," Ansu answered truthfully.

"......Oh." The atmosphere at that table suddenly became a bit subtle.

"So you're young masters from Benalu City!" The bespectacled man pushed up his glasses and teased with a hint of aggression. "I hear everyone over there is rich. What, do you young masters and ladies want to learn magic but can't afford a private tutor?"

"We aren't rich people." Ansu shook his head, unable to help grumbling internally.

In the remote areas of the Empire—or rather, most places outside the Royal Capital and Benalu City—people indeed had many 'stereotypes' about these two major cities.

For instance, anyone from the Royal Capital was powerful, and anyone from Benalu was wealthy and sophisticated...

And the residents of these two cities inevitably looked down on the provinces, which were clearly several levels behind, with a subtle sense of superiority. Otherwise, how else would the slur 'Northern hicks' have spread?