Zane squinted. The information revealed was of the highest value. Although it contained fewer than 100 words, much can be extrapolated from the content. Earth has a population of 8 billion, and all the current trainees are probably only a few million. However, there should be even more people with the talent for one of the three extraordinary paths.
"The tower alone cannot train everybody, but they can raise the trainees to a sufficient level before outsourcing the training to the rest of Earth's citizens," Zane analyzed. The existence of the voucher is the first step to this approach, and also a test. Anyone who cannot afford the tremendous price is not worthy of establishing their own power.
"There are also the social-political ramifications," Zane thought. "Any faction, group, or corporation composed of extraordinary individuals is a militia — and a strong one at that. How will those powerful countries allow their citizens to build their own army?"
The words "chaos" and "confrontation" were plastered all over Zane's mind. No country would want its citizens to have the power to destabilize their very foundation. The intricate aspect of this information is that these countries may not have a choice but to accept it. Extraordinary individuals are the keys to defending against Demon Lord Shakurri, meaning the more of them a nation has, the higher its chances of survival.
Of course, for most governments, the best-case scenario is that all those gifted individuals serve the country. But humans are creatures of desire; if given the choice between having their own power and serving someone else, most would choose the former. Not to mention governments worldwide have been fucking the people over for decades, leaving the masses angry and bitter. Now that they have power, how could they surrender it back?
"I need to have my own faction," Zane immediately thought. "But there is an issue: how to trust these people?" Trust is simultaneously the most useless and the most expensive thing in the world. While Zane acknowledged the need to have his own group to help him gather resources, he also cannot trust these people with his safety.
"Maybe magic has a way. Didn't Xi'Ke mention a binding magical contract?" Zane pondered. As long as he can stop these people from stabbing him in the back, he'll be more than happy to create his own group. As for the voucher, which will cost as little as $25 million and as much as a few billion, he should have the financial means by the time the tower makes this information public.
[Thank you for the information. I will remember your help, and I promise to keep my mouth shut.]
After sending a reply, Zane glanced at Xi'Ke, and they secretly nodded to each other. Zane understood that besides family, no individual ever helped another without a reason. Although he doesn't know why Xi'Ke chose to share such information, Zane understands how to make friends and build connections.
Everybody had a hefty meal, and the tour officially ended. Xi'Ke reminded everyone to pick up their luggage. Zane — who decided to head directly to his dorm — followed his advice and retrieved his bags before heading to Crimson Scale Yard.
"Room E345 —that should be it," Zane thought, remembering the information from his student profile. The door had no handle, keyhole, or keypad. Instead, a small handstand hung where the doorknob should have been. Already familiar with the procedure, Zane placed his left hand to allow a scan of his soul crest. The door slide opened.
"The last one has arrived," a friendly voice said as Zane entered. Following the voice, he saw six other people already waiting for him. Five of them sat at a rectangular table, and one sat on a couch in the living room, a holographic screen playing an Earth movie.
"Your room is the last one in the hall," the welcoming voice said while pointing down the hall. Zane glanced at this white man wearing a suede jacket, a white t-shirt with an open collar, and black jeans. "We're having a meeting to introduce each other. Join us after you've put your stuff down."
"It seems this person has already established himself as the dorm's leader," Zane thought. He nodded to the man, then walked to his room. Although he was the last one to arrive, it didn't mean he had received the worst room. From the previous guide, he understood all the rooms were the same size, so it was only a matter of preference. Some people preferred a room closer to the exit, while others wanted the farthest.
Zane checked his room and nodded in satisfaction. The tower was generous with the living environment; this single room contained a bathroom, a small but strange laundry room, a thermometer, and a closet. Knowing that people were waiting for him, Zane did not stay long; he left his bags before returning to the living room.
Zane sat at the table, observing everybody. The suede jacket man — who sat at the head of the table — smiled and spoke first, "How about we introduce ourselves? I'll go first."
"Why do you get to go first?" Everybody looked at the man on the couch. With skin as white as snow, the man sat leisurely in casual clothes of jeans and a sweater.
"James, do you want to go first?"
James snorted coldly and did not answer.
"I didn't think so. Anyway, let's start with the introduction. My name is Evans Aaronson, 30 years old, and I'm a Dark Mage. Before all of this, I was an Art Collector in New York. I hope we get along."
Zane observed Evans and thought, "He is wearing a Brunello Cucinelli jacket, which costs more than $30,000. His watch probably cost about $15,000, and everything else cost at least $7,000. And that one called James, although he looked like he was wearing ordinary clothes, he can't fool me. I recognized that watch. That's one of Greubel Forsey's creations. It cost a quarter of a million dollars, and there are only 100 of them ever created."
His relationship with Cindy gave Zane access to "high society," and she taught him to read people, starting with their clothes. Since ancient times, the upper echelons of society have always found ways to detach themselves from others, from commoners. A perfect example of this is that lobsters used to be a high-class delicacy until they became cheap enough for most people to buy, so wealthy people stopped buying them.
Many aspects of society have been affected by such a mindset, including fashion. When too many "new rich" individuals started buying luxury clothes, the 1% set the trend of quiet luxury: they wore expensive clothes that were either not very popular or could masquerade as regular clothes. It's also a way to subtly flaunt their wealth without being called showy.
"His mana is indeed different, even in my perception, it's all dark lights," Zane thought.
"Who wants to go next?" Evans asked. The room was silent, and with so many people, an awkwardness was about to descend.
"Zane, 28 years old, software engineering, and also a Mage." There were two people to Evans' left and right, and they should have been the perfect individuals to introduce themselves in a somewhat organized way, but no one said anything. So, Zane — who sat in the second seat to Evans's left — spoke first.
"Nice to meet you, Zane," Evans uttered before suddenly frowning.
"Is there an issue?"
"Do I know you from somewhere?" Evans asked.
"I don't think so." Zane was pretty confident in his memories, but he had no recollection of meeting this person.
"I apologize if I acted rudely. You just look familiar," Evans muttered.
"No issue."
Evans nodded, "Alright, who's next? Come on, don't be shy."
"I-I'm Tom Nguyen," said the young man to Evans's left. "I'm 24 years old, and I'm currently still in school getting my Ph.D. I'm also a mage — a Necromancer, to be precise."
Zane looked at this most likely Vietnamese young man wearing a regular blue shirt with work pants. A quick analysis indicated this kid was probably a poor college student with limited funds. More importantly, his mana is also strange, with a cold and eerie feeling.
"This reminded me of the energy I felt in the cemetery. No wonder he's a Necromancer," Zane thought.
"A university student, huh? It's been a while. What school are you going to?"
"H-Harvard."
"Then, you must be quite smart. I studied there for a few semesters, and it was too much. What are you studying?"
"I'm trying to get a degree in Mathematics."
"Does Professor William Goldman still teach mathematics?" Zane suddenly asked.
"Huh, yes, I had him two years ago. Did you also attend Harvard? Tom Nguyen asked.
"MIT, but I took some classes at Harvard."
"I see," Tom Nguyen nodded before suddenly looking at Zane with wide eyes. "You wouldn't happen to be Zane Skylar, are you?"
"You know me?"
"Professor Goldman said, besides me, only three other students have gotten an A in his class, and he mentioned your name."
"Then, you must be a genius," Zane commented. He wasn't being arrogant. Professor Goldman had a rule: only geniuses could get an A in his class. Even if a student had a perfect score in all tests, the best they could get is a B if they were not a genius. Was it unfair? Yes, and even more considering that the definition of genius was up to his interpretation. Students needed to pass all the tests he had created to determine whether they were geniuses, and Zane was sure Goldman would still deny students' status as "geniuses" if he didn't like them.
"I don't think so," Tom shook his head, and Zane did not comment further.
"It seems we have two bright minds in our dorm," Evans smiled.
"Genius meant shit in the face of magic," James snorted over from the couch.
Ignoring him, Evans looked at the person sitting to Tom's right: "What about you?"