Returning to his small house, Ronan opened his character panel.
[Name: Ronan Damien]
[Age: 16]
[Affinity: Non-Elemental]
[Level: Level 2 Wizard Apprentice (25%)]
[Skills: Basic Meditation Techniques (Mastery 27/400), Energy Missile (Expert 72/800), Charged Weapon (Proficient 23/200), Rune Engraving—Cleanse (Beginner 87/100)]
In less than a month, Ronan's progress had advanced by eleven percent, with his mental strength increasing at a much faster pace.
This was due to the improvement in his Basic Meditation Techniques.
At the mastery level, the effects of each meditation session were significantly better, seemingly reaching a deeper state of meditation.
Now, during each meditation, the small point of light in the void of his mind grew ever brighter, and its swirling patterns became clearer, like ripples on a dark water surface.
"If the proficiency of [Basic Meditation Techniques] keeps improving, could my meditation efficiency rival that of the most gifted wizard prodigies? It could potentially narrow the gap in cultivation talent," Ronan pondered with anticipation.
His practice with [Energy Missile] had been consistent, reaching the "expert" level of proficiency.
After reaching "expert," the power of [Energy Missile] surged again, becoming so potent it barely resembled a low-grade zero-level spell.
The casting speed also increased; Ronan could now cast [Energy Missile] in just over a second.
However, improving proficiency beyond "expert" was much harder. Where one or two casts previously increased proficiency, it now took four or five to see any improvement.
Ronan felt like each casting provided too few insights, needing those realizations to accumulate before seeing progress.
The increased power and speed of his spells naturally led to a significant boost in combat ability, raising Ronan's confidence.
He realized he lacked actual combat experience, never having faced another person in a fight, only forest creatures.
To prepare for the inevitable day he would need to fight, Ronan considered what methods he could use to practice and gain real battle experience.
There wasn't much to say about [Charged Weapon]. After reaching the proficient level with little effort, Ronan set it aside.
The proficiency in [Cleanse] rune engraving had increased significantly.
After reaching the beginner level, Ronan noticed that even failed engravings could slightly increase his proficiency.
The intense rune engraving sessions had almost maxed out his beginner-level proficiency without him realizing it.
Thinking about this, Ronan instinctively got up and went to an old wooden box in the corner, opening it.
Pushing aside the messy items on top used for concealment, he revealed a neatly arranged collection of twenty-one [Cleanse] runes.
"Seventy-five fragments each, twenty-one of them sold would net me sixteen low-grade magic stones!"
Sixteen low-grade magic stones—a number Ronan once never dared to dream of, now within reach, only needing a trip to the market to exchange the runes for stones.
If not for the fact that he painstakingly accumulated these runes over the month, Ronan might have thought he was dreaming.
"Earning nearly sixteen low-grade magic stones in a month, and that's just from selling the lowest-grade [Cleanse] runes. Being a runesmith really is profitable," Ronan couldn't help but marvel.
Gazing at the pile of rune stones, he began to plan.
"Once I have the magic stones, I'll rent a place in town with a workshop, move out of the treehouse area, buy a better rune carving knife—this one's tip is nearly worn smooth—and get an artifact, preferably a staff. Without a staff, I hardly look like a wizard."
As Ronan daydreamed about his plans with the impending wealth, a cough echoed from outside.
"Who's there?" Ronan's senses instantly heightened. He quickly covered the runes and closed the box.
Grabbing the meat-cutting knife from the table, he cautiously stepped outside.
The night was deep, and fireflies floated among the trees. By their glow and the moonlight, Ronan saw a figure standing beneath his treehouse.
"Who is it?!"
Under his robe, Ronan's hand tightened around the knife, his palm sweating slightly from tension.
But soon, a familiar voice called up from below.
"Ronan, it's me."
Old Wills? What was he doing here so late? They weren't close enough for late-night visits, were they?
Ronan was taken aback, his tense nerves relaxing slightly, though he remained wary.
Leaning over the edge of the treehouse, he asked why Wills had come. To his surprise, Wills replied in a somber tone, "I came to tell you, Porter is dead."
"What?! Porter is dead?!"
Ronan was shocked.
After the initial surprise, he felt a bit confused and bewildered.
Wait, who was Porter again?
In the tranquil forest, a group of robed figures stood in a circle with torches.
In the flickering firelight, a middle-aged man's corpse lay coldly.
His dark green robe and twisted, grim expression hinted at the great pain he must have endured before death.
A little blonde girl, no more than five or six, lay over the body, crying her heart out.
Ronan stood among the crowd, watching the sobbing girl with a mix of sympathy and reluctance, but the sight of the deceased didn't stir much emotion in him.
Most around him reacted similarly, if not more indifferently.
The deceased, named Porter, was someone Ronan barely knew, having crossed paths a few times in the woods.
Porter had lived in the treehouse area with his daughter for many years, keeping to himself without many friends.
Now, with his sudden death, the gathering was mostly "neighbors" from the vicinity.
"...May the truth guide you, and your soul dwell in the Land of Peace."
Old Wills stood beside Porter's body and his daughter, holding an ebony staff, reciting a solemn eulogy.
Afterward, he uttered incantations, summoning a small orange fireball, setting the body ablaze under the moonlight.
The little girl's cries grew louder, as all the wizards bowed their heads in a moment of silence.
After the brief funeral, Wills began speaking with each person individually.
Ronan didn't know what Wills said, but each wizard he approached responded with silence, shook their heads, and disappeared into the darkness.
"Ronan."
Finally, Wills reached Ronan.
Ronan nodded, waiting for Wills to speak.
"Porter is gone, leaving his daughter Cheryl without care. Would you consider taking her in?"