The next morning, Allen went to H District and found workshop No. 17.
Unlike the simple practice rooms for ordinary apprentices, this was a standalone, square, two-story building.
The main door had no knocker, only a smooth metal sensor plate.
Allen pressed his identification card against it. A faint wave of Magic Power swept over it, and the heavy stone door slid open silently.
A pungent odor, a mix of burnt herbs and some kind of acidic solvent, assaulted his senses.
The scene inside the workshop was far larger and more complex than Allen had imagined.
Rows of tall glass distillation towers stood along the walls, filled with churning, multicolored liquids. Bubbles traveled through a complex network of pipes, making a GURGLING sound.
Dozens of crucibles were being heated on Alchemy Equipment, emitting glows of various hues.
A few metal puppets were working on an assembly line. The ends of their arms were fitted with precise clamps and syringes, methodically filling Crystal Bottles with processed liquid, applying labels, and then transferring them to a cooling rack at the other end.
An apprentice in a gray work uniform hurried over and bowed to Allen. "Mr. Weisren? Master Draven is waiting for you on the second floor."
Allen nodded and followed him up a spiral metal staircase.
The second floor was much quieter, more like a combination of a private study and a laboratory.
Complex anatomical charts of the human body and diagrams of Magic Power circulation hung on the walls, and the bookshelves were crammed with thick tomes.
Allen's gaze fell upon a corner of the room.
It was shrouded by a deep purple Energy Shield, obscuring the details within, but he could feel the suppressed, unstable fluctuations of Magic Power coming from it.
'That's probably a crucial experiment Draven is working on.'
A tall, thin figure stood with his back to the door, focused on adjusting a complex instrument at a massive workbench.
"You're here."
The man didn't turn around, his voice hoarse and weary.
He was none other than Draven Craig.
It wasn't until he turned around that Allen got a clear look at his face.
Draven looked to be in his mid-twenties, his face pale and his eyes sunken. But those eyes were astonishingly bright, as if a fire burned within them.
His Apprentice Robe was made of high-grade silk, but its cuffs and lapels were stained with indelible potion marks. He looked like a mad scientist who had poured all his life force into his research.
"Sit." Draven pointed to a leather armchair nearby, then casually leaned against the workbench himself.
He had no intention of beating around the bush and got straight to the point.
"Allen Wesren." He recited Allen's full name as if confirming the label on an item.
"Fifteen years old. Seventh in line to the throne of the Rhine Kingdom on the Gaia Plane. Talent assessment report: Anomalous. Magic Power Affinity: A. Meditation Aptitude: B. Memory: S. Concentration: S."
"A very interesting report. Your talent assessment indicates that you're a rare talent in the field of research."
His tone was flat, yet it held a condescending, scrutinizing air.
He was telling Allen that he had easy access to the academy's records, establishing that their positions were unequal from the very beginning.
Allen's expression remained calm. He didn't respond, knowing this was just the appetizer.
Draven seemed slightly surprised by his composure but didn't stop.
He picked up a sheet of parchment from the workbench and unrolled it in front of Allen.
"Your 'Learning Mutual Aid Group,' twenty members. Oliver Page: moderate Spiritual Power control, but a strong learner, from an ordinary family. Marcus Bell: high total Spiritual Power, but an impetuous personality, lacks fundamentals, and is overly eager for quick success. Fiona Clark…"
"Heh, the young lady of the Clark merchant family needs your guidance too? You've screened your clients very well, like a seasoned merchant, not a new student."
On the parchment was a complete list of all the members of his mutual aid group.
Draven's fingers tapped lightly on the list. "Let's see... 'Introductory Diagnostic Service'? Learning Mutual Aid Group, first batch of 15, then 5 more. Monthly fee of fifteen stones. Total…"
"Mm, after waiving the fees for those two worker bees, your net income for the first month is over 200 Magic Stones. Add that to your starting funds from enrollment, and you should have over three hundred in liquid capital. For a new student, you're already quite wealthy."
He finally delivered his last line, his words carrying a relentless, oppressive pressure.
He was laying Allen's cards on the table one by one, attempting to use his absolute information advantage to completely control the pace of the conversation.
"The one thing new students should avoid at the academy is being too conspicuous, especially when it comes to money."
Draven leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. "Every year, there are one or two clever kids like you who think they've found a shortcut to accumulating resources."
"But they soon discover that the academy has its own rules. The undercurrents beneath the surface are far more turbulent than you imagine. Often, a single 'accidental' experiment failure, a single 'unfortunate' downward revision of a mission rating, is enough to completely derail a genius's path."
This was a naked threat.
He hadn't mentioned any violence, yet it was more chilling than any physical threat.
What he described was a complete, multi-faceted takedown from a position of authority, all within the bounds of the rules, by leveraging his status as an Advanced Apprentice and his connections.
Allen remained silent, merely lifting the cup of clear tea on the table and taking a sip.
His composure made Draven feel a flicker of irritation and surprise.
"I mean no harm."
Draven's tone shifted, softening as he began to reveal his true intentions.
"I admire your abilities. Your exceptional learning capacity, your skill at gathering people—these are valuable talents. I just want to tell you that if these talents are used in the wrong way, they will bring you trouble. But if used correctly, they can become your ladder to the top."
He straightened up and spread his arms, gesturing to the entire workshop.
"See all this? My research burns through Magic Stones every single day. The land this workshop stands on costs a thousand Magic Stones a year in rent. The project in my central lab, once activated, will consume enough resources each month to buy you five spatial backpacks. I need money, Allen. I'm desperately short on money."
He made no effort to hide his predicament, because in his mind, it was precisely what justified the proposal he was about to make.
"Your Learning Mutual Aid Group is a perfect channel. A group of new students, precisely screened by you, with a strong desire to improve and a certain ability to pay. They are the best customers."
The fanatical light rekindled in Draven's eyes. "I want you to become my 'Physician'. You continue your diagnostic services, continue your group tutoring. But you must add my 'prescriptions' to your 'treatment plans'."
He walked over to a shelf and picked up two Crystal Bottles filled with a blue liquid.
"'Focus Potion,' fifteen Magic Stones a bottle. It can triple Meditation efficiency for one hour. 'Spark of Inspiration,' twenty Magic Stones a bottle. It can provide an opportunity to break through a bottleneck when constructing Runes. These are all rare items you can't buy in the academy store."
He placed the potions on the table, pushing them toward Allen.
"My plan is simple. You 'diagnose' those lost new students, identify their problems, and then recommend the most suitable potions to them."
"Your members can try some for free, letting them experience the effects firsthand. They will trust you more because of it, and your status as a 'teacher' will be even more solid. And I, in turn, will open up the most targeted sales channel."
"A perfect business, isn't it?" Draven's lips curled into a smile. He believed he had made an offer that was impossible to refuse. "You provide the customers and the diagnosis; I provide the products and the results. Together, we can get a firm grip on this market of new students."
Allen finally spoke, his voice as calm as ever. "It does sound perfect, but what's my compensation?"
"Compensation?"
Draven looked as if he had heard a joke. "My friendship, the protection of an Advanced Apprentice, shielding you from the other hungry wolves circling around. Your group members get to use some of my potions for free, which will greatly increase the value of your service. That is your greatest compensation."
"Allen, you need to understand. It is you who needs me, not the other way around. Without you, I'll just have to spend a little more time marketing my products. But without me, your 'Learning Mutual Aid Group' might cease to exist by next month."
'He wants a free ride.'
'No, it's more than that. He wants to turn me into the lowest, cheapest link in his sales system—a free sales promoter.'
Allen looked at Draven's confident face, and a passage he had read in the library yesterday came to mind.
'This is a pitiable man trapped by his own scarcity mindset.'
He didn't feel angry, or even offended.
He simply confirmed one thing: the man before him had already lost on a fundamental level.
Instead of refuting him immediately, Allen picked up the blue 'Focus Potion' from the table and held it up to the light.
"Senior Draven, your 'Focus Potion' increases Meditation efficiency by three hundred percent for one hour. Correct?"
"Of course. Every bottle is the real deal," Draven said, a trace of pride on his face, thinking Allen was assessing the product's value.
"Then," Allen put down the potion, his gaze fixed on Draven's fanatical eyes, "what about after that hour is up? Has the apprentice who took the potion changed their Spiritual Power output pattern? Have they optimized their technique for constructing force field models? Has their understanding of the underlying logic of Runes deepened?"
Draven's smile froze.
Allen's voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly on the quiet second floor.
"No. Nothing has changed."
"He only experienced an hour of efficiency that wasn't his own. When the effect wears off, he'll find he's still the same person. He might even develop an aversion to tedious basic training after experiencing such a shortcut. What will he do? He'll come back to buy a second bottle, and a third. He'll become dependent on your potions."
Allen leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. The momentum had invisibly shifted.
"You're not selling medicine, Senior Draven. You're selling an illusion called 'hope,' a rented power."
"Once the lease is up, they're left with nothing but fewer Magic Stones in their accounts. They become fuel for your research fund until every last drop of value is squeezed out of them, or until they fall into complete despair before the threshold of promotion."
"My service, on the other hand,"
Allen's tone was calm but full of power.
"is to teach them how to understand themselves, how to optimize their own Spiritual Power models, how to learn in the most efficient way possible. I teach them how to build their own strength. I'm selling the fishing rod and the method to fish, while you are merely selling expensive grilled fish by the side of the pond."
He paused, looking at Draven's face, which had turned from pale to ashen, before delivering his final line.
"Your pond may seem large, but the fish in it will eventually all be caught, or they'll learn to fish for themselves. My goal, however, is to take my clients to a much wider ocean."