'The Wagyu of the Swamp'
This nickname was coined by a famous food reviewer on a popular streaming platform to describe the surprisingly tender and rich flavor of crocodile meat.
Despite the menacing reputation of crocodiles, the meat's marbled texture and melt-in-your-mouth quality were reminiscent of high-grade wagyu beef, making it a sought-after delicacy in certain meat lover circles.
As Oz savored the last bite, he sighed contentedly.
"Ah, I'm full now. Thank you Mr. Pickwick."
Oz added, turning to the large man seated across from him.
—Yep, just as I thought. Mr. Pickwick would order that meat
"Hahaha, you need to be in top shape before the entrance exams. So, meat is the best food."
Mr. Pickwick replied with a hearty laugh, patting his stomach.
Oz couldn't help but agree, despite the deep-rooted prejudice from Earth that labeled crocodiles as terrifying creatures. The meal had been unexpectedly delicious.
As they finished their meal and stepped outside, the cool air of the bustling city hit them, a refreshing change from the warmth of the restaurant.
The three of them—Oz, Mr. Pickwick, and his son Sam—were making their way toward a wand shop nestled deep within the heart of the magical district.
"By the way, Mr. Pickwick, are exam candidates allowed to use wands?"
Oz asked, recalling the entrance exam rules he had read earlier.
The guidelines clearly stated that candidates were prohibited from using any tools, including wands, during the exam.
"Hohoho, of course not. But Sam keeps begging me to buy one."
Mr. Pickwick replied with a chuckle.
"Wands are cool, Oz. My dad promised that if I graduate from junior high school with good grades, he'll buy me one."
Sam chimed in, his eyes sparkling with excitement at the thought of owning his very own wand.
Oz glanced at Sam, understanding the boy's eagerness. He knew from personal experience that one of the most effective ways to motivate a child in school was to promise them something they truly desired.
—My parents, on the other hand, would've grabbed a broom or a stick if my grades were bad.
Oz thought with a smirk, remembering the more traditional methods of motivation used back home.
As they continued walking, the lively chatter of street vendors and the enchanting sights of the magical district surrounded them.
The air was filled with the scent of herbs, potions, and freshly baked goods, mingling together in a tantalizing blend.
One of the most famous areas in this city was the wandmakers' district, a must-visit for any wizard.
Here, skilled craftsmen created wands with various performances, shapes, and prices, each one catering to the unique preferences of its buyer.
The windows of the shops displayed intricate wands, some carved entirely from unicorn horn, others from the wood of ancient trees.
In truth, the most important aspect of a wand was its performance. Wands made from rare or exotic materials were often reserved for the wealthy, who used them to flaunt their status.
As they passed a shop specializing in luxury wands, Oz's eyes were drawn to a particularly extravagant piece on display. The wand was crafted from 2,000-year-old wood, intricately adorned with gold and set with a dragon bone.
The price tag? A staggering 44,999 Echo.
To put that into perspective, 1 Echo here was equivalent to about 1.2 USD.
With that kind of money, someone could easily purchase a small house or a studio apartment.
Oz followed Mr. Pickwick as they turned off the main street, entering a narrow, dimly lit alley that wound its way through the quieter parts of the district.
"Hohoho, the shops selling wands on the main street only nice to look at but ordinary in use."
Mr. Pickwick remarked as they walked.
His reasoning wasn't entirely wrong, but Oz knew that the real reason they had ventured into this narrow alley was that Mr. Pickwick didn't have a large budget.
—As a former salaryman, I can relate.
A significant portion of my salary also goes toward supporting my family and relatives, Oz thought, sympathizing with Mr. Pickwick's financial constraints.
Though it seemed that young Sam was still too innocent to understand the value of money.
"I want that one, Dad! The wand was cool. Dad!"
Sam's voice quivered as he clung to his father's hand, his eyes still fixated on the luxury wand they had just passed.
But Mr. Pickwick, with his larger, more solid frame, didn't budge against Sam's persistent tugging.
"I'll get it for you when you score well at Mistheaven."
Mr. Pickwick promised, his voice carrying both hope and a hint of resignation.
—Hahaha, let's hope Sam forgets about that promise instead.
Oz thought with a chuckle.
Their destination was a small, unassuming shop made entirely of wood, painted in a deep, mossy green.
Though modest in size, the wide windows revealed a variety of wands on display, each with a simple yet elegant design.
The shop's name was 'Great Expectations,' but its loyal customers referred to it as 'Joe's Shop.
*Kling*
A small bell chimed above the door as the three of them stepped inside, the wooden floor creaking softly underfoot.
The shop was filled with the rich scent of aged wood and fresh varnish, a comforting aroma that reminded Oz of old libraries and workshops back home.
"Joe? Gargery? Hellooo!"
Mr. Pickwick called out, his voice echoing through the small shop as he glanced around, not seeing any staff immediately.
For a shop of its size, the place was surprisingly well-stocked.
Wands of various shapes, lengths, and colors were neatly displayed on racks along the walls, each one labeled with a handwritten tag.
There were also numerous accessories available, such as wand holders to prevent them from falling, and a selection of wand sheaths, each one intricately decorated with unique patterns and images.
"Just a moment! I'm coming!"
A voice called out from behind a beaded curtain that led to the back room. Moments later, an elderly man emerged, shuffling slowly toward the counter.
He wore a well-worn brown apron, and a monocle was perched on his nose, equipped with multiple magnifying lenses that could be adjusted for different tasks.
"Oh, Pickwick? Is that you?"
Mr. Gargery greeted them with a warm smile, squinting through his monocle as he tried to make out Mr. Pickwick's face.
"Who else would be shopping here besides me? Hohoho."
Mr. Pickwick replied with a hearty laugh, the kind of laugh shared between old friends who have known each other for years.
"Since when do you have two kids?"
Mr. Gargery glanced several times at Oz and Mr. Pickwick, as if comparing their faces with a curious, puzzled expression.
"Let me introduce you; this is Oz, Samuel's friend."
Mr. Pickwick said, with a hint of pride in his voice. He patted both Oz and Sam on their shoulders.
"Nice too meet you Mr. Gargery."
Oz nodded politely in greeting, his expression calm and respectful.
"Pickwick, are you here to pick up your order?"
Mr. Gargery asked, his tone shifting to a more business-like manner.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the hallway behind the counter. From the back, there were sounds of items being sorted and the occasional clatter of metal.
*CLANG*
*SHROUD*
When he returned, Mr. Pickwick was holding a wand about 25cm long.
The handle was made from a light brown wood with a slightly white hue, giving it an antique appearance.
At the tip of the wand was a gemstone that glimmered with a pale blue light.
Although it was commonly referred to as a 'magic wand,' the proper term was actually 'Celestite Wand,' named after the Celestite gemstone set at its tip.
Magic Lesson 101: What is Celestite?
Celestite, also known as soulstone, is a crystal that originates from outer space, brought to the world on the backs of fallen stars.
It comes in various types and colors, and is highly valued by wizards.
To the naked eye, the gemstone looks like an ordinary piece of crystal. But when viewed through the lens of the Verinomus spell, it reveals an intricate image of a galaxy, with millions of stars swirling in a cosmic dance.
This image signifies that the stone possesses a soul, making it much more than just a mere mineral.
Yes, that's right—though Celestite is just a stone, it has a Verinomus, leading some scholars to argue that it should be classified as a living being, albeit one without consciousness.
The most common use of Celestite is to synchronize the stone's Verinomus with the user's Verinomus.
This process inscribes the user's Verinomus into the Celestite, effectively doubling their magical capacity by creating a magical reservoir within the stone.
Because the Verinomus inside the Celestite matches that of its user, wizards can cast spells with double the quantity of starlight—effectively allowing them to use magic twice as much.
Novice wizards might be tempted to synchronize with as many Celestites as possible, but they soon discover that there is a limit to how many Celestites one can synchronize with.
The stronger the wizard, the more Celestites they can synchronize with, but even the most powerful wizards must respect these natural limits.
"Go ahead, kid, try synchronizing with it."
Mr. Gargery encouraged, holding out the wand to Sam. The old man's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and anticipation.
With trembling hands and eyes full of excitement, Sam reached out for the wand, only for Mr. Gargery to pull it back with a playful grin, teasing Sam like a vendor playing tricks with a treat.
"Do you know the spell?"
Mr. Gargery asked, his voice playful, his eyes twinkling like a mischievous uncle.
"Of course, I know! Verinomus Synchronicus!"
The gemstone at the wand's tip began to glow, casting a soft light that filled the shop.
As the light intensified, the image of a miniature galaxy—an exact replica of what is seen when the Verinomus spell is used on user—began to form within the gemstone.
Unlike the temporary image from the spell, this one was permanently etched inside the Celestite, a clear sign of the successful synchronization.
From that moment on, the Celestite could no longer be used or synchronized by anyone else. It was now Sam's alone, bonded to him in a way that no other wizard could replicate.
Sam's face lit up with pure joy, his eyes wide with wonder as he gazed at his new wand. He eagerly asked his father for permission to step outside and try casting some spells.
"Oz, right? Do you want to try out a wand too?"
Mr. Gargery offered, noticing that Oz didn't seem to have a wand of his own. The old man's voice was warm and inviting, as if he enjoyed seeing young wizards discover the wonders of magic.
"Me? I plan to buy one after I'm accepted into the academy."
Oz replied with a modest smile. Though his words were humble, Oz secretly possessed a substantial amount of Echo, gifted to him by his master—more than enough to purchase even the finest wand crafted from gold and dragon bone.
After Sam had exhausted his excitement and was satisfied with trying out his new wand, Oz politely asked Mr. Pickwick for permission to explore the city on his own.
"Hohoho, be careful. There are no robbers or thieves around here, but there are plenty of sellers of fake goods."
Mr. Pickwick advised, his tone both fatherly and protective.
"Thank you for the advice, Mr. Pickwick."
Oz replied gratefully, bowing slightly as he prepared to set off.
—Which way should I go?
This district was dedicated to the processing of Celestite and the sale of wands, a place of magical commerce and craftsmanship. But Oz's destination lay in the entertainment district, where he hoped to gather more specific information.
The first thing he needed was detailed information about the content of the Mistheaven entrance exams.
While general knowledge was widely available from last year's participants, the exact content of this year's exams was a closely guarded secret, known only to a few.
Whether in this world or on Earth, those with power—like the nobles—always had access to such privileged information.
"It's only 8 PM, but this street is already deserted..."
Oz muttered to himself, puzzled by the stillness of the street.
Even though this wasn't a main road, it shouldn't have been this quiet.
"Verinomus Animaviso!"
Oz whispered, casting one of the Night Sorceries his master had taught him, a modification of the standard Verinomus spell that originally is a Charm Magic.
Though it couldn't read information beyond visualizing the shape of Verinomus and the amount of starlight within it, this spell didn't require direct contact and could be used over a wide area. Moreover, it could detect Verinomus even when hidden behind objects.
"Hmm, they're all inside their homes," Oz observed.
So far, nothing seemed suspicious. Through the enhanced vision granted by the spell, Oz could see that people hadn't left their homes.
Their activities appeared normal—gathering with family members, cooking, eating, cleaning, and doing other household chores.
This place is teeming with Verinomus due to the sheer number of Celestites being sold.
Naturally, with so many of these rare stones in circulation, it's almost certain that one or two in every shop are illegal goods.
—Why illegal?
It's not because they're stolen or defect; the Verinomus Animaviso spell isn't capable of detecting such mundane matters.
What it can sense, however, is something far more unsettling: it distinguishes between the Verinomus within a human soul and that within a Celestite.
—Because some of the Celestites I see are forged from human souls.
If you ask why such stones exist, the answer is simple: greed.
Celestite is incredibly valuable, with prices soaring due to its scarcity.
Typically, Celestites can only be harvested when an asteroid crashes to the earth, making the hunt for them fiercely competitive.
As demand outstripped supply, some unscrupulous individuals sought out darker methods.
Dark wizards, known for their ruthless ambition, devised a way to extract human souls and crystallize them into what appears to be Celestite.
To the naked eye, they're indistinguishable from the real thing, but these blood-soaked stones—derived from human souls—have a much shorter lifespan than genuine Celestite.
In the underworld of magical commerce, these are referred to as Blood Celestites, or more commonly, Bloodstones.
"Master once warned me, if I ever came across someone dealing in large quantities of Bloodstones, I should pay them a visit."
Oz's intention wasn't to engage in a friendly chat but to plunder their ill-gotten gains.
"Like this shop."
He mused, his gaze sweeping over the darkened storefront. All the Celestites in the dimly lit interior were Bloodstones.
*Cling*
The shop's bell jingled eerily as Oz stepped inside, his presence barely noticed by the shopkeeper.
"Welcome, customer. Oh, a child? What can I do for you, young man?"
The shopkeeper's voice was gruff yet cordial, though his eyes were sharp, assessing the small figure before him.
The man was large and muscular, with curly blonde hair falling over his shoulders and a thick beard covering his neck. His smile was wide but fake.
"Ah, yes, there is something I'd like, sir…"
Oz began in a high-pitched, innocent tone, his eyes wide and childlike.
"I'm looking for a Briarstone..."
The tone shifted abruptly, becoming cold and authoritative, like a debt collector closing in on a delinquent.
*Gasp*
The shopkeeper's instincts kicked in.
Without hesitation, he reached for his wand, the smooth wood gleaming in the dim light as he rapidly incanted a spell.
"Vicerum Frangere!"
In an instant, a burst of violent energy shot forth from the wand, slamming into Oz with the force of a sledgehammer.
Blood erupted from Oz's mouth, nose, ears, and eyes, as if his very intenstine was being torn. His small frame collapsed to the floor, crumpling into a pool of blood.
The shopkeeper moved quickly, pulling down the curtains to block any outside view, and locking the door with a trembling hand.
His heart raced, but he couldn't let fear distract him; there was still work to be done.
The spell he had cast was a hex sorcery, a dark art meant to cause pain and suffering, often leaving its victims in states worse than death.
He grabbed a plastic bag from under the counter, intent on wrapping the child's body and cleaning up the blood that now stained his pristine floor.
But when he turned around, the child's corpse was nowhere to be found. Instead, Oz was standing, holding one of the iron-made wands from the display, a sinister grin playing on his lips.
"Isn't it safer to kill without using magic?"
Oz's voice was low and mocking, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
Before the shopkeeper could react, Oz lunged, driving the wand with unnatural strength straight through the man's heart.
The shopkeeper's scream was stifled by Oz's small but powerful hand, covering his mouth with a cruel efficiency.
"Shh, shh, shh. Don't make noise."
Oz whispered, as the shopkeeper's life ebbed away, his eyes wide with terror.
Now it was the shopkeeper's body that fell to the floor, his blood mingling with that of his intended victim.
"Hex sorcery leaves traces on the victim, you know."
Oz muttered, almost to himself as he knelt beside the dying man.
"You should have used a weapon instead. Ah… but it seems you can't hear me anymore, can you?"
Oz's body, once mangled by the hex sorcery, was now fully restored, as if he had never been injured.
Thanks to his unique constitution, as long as he has starlight, his wounds healed instantly, leaving no trace of the terrible injuries he had sustained.
—It is now looting time.
If Oz had a system, it would probably be notifying him of the experience points and items he had just gained from the encounter.
He moved to the cash register, rifling through its contents and pocketing all the Echoes inside.
If the authorities came to investigate, he wanted them to think this was a simple robbery gone wrong.
Oz had considered using Charm Sorcery to dispose of the shopkeeper's body, but he knew it would leave evidence. Night Sorcery, though less detectable, wasn't suitable for cleansing.
Before entering the shop, Oz had already pinpointed the location of something that piqued his interest: a Briarstone.
It was hidden in a locked cabinet on the second floor, among the shopkeeper's most prized possessions
Inside the cabinet was a small wooden box, unassuming at first glance. But when Oz opened it, inside was the Briarstone, a gem as red as blood, adorned with jagged thorns that seemed to pulse with a life.
"Hello there cutie."
Oz whispered, his fingers brushing over the gem's thorny surface.