Oliver turned around to face the voice. Standing by the edge of the field was a middle-aged man accompanied by a servant. The man wore a wool coat and leather gloves—clearly not a poor farmer or fisherman.

Who is this man? Oliver couldn't recall. He had only inherited fragments of the original owner's memories. Had the previous owner truly been so desperate that he was considering selling himself into slavery?

Now that Oliver possessed a powerful magical core, how could he ever entertain the idea of becoming a slave?

Fortunately, he hadn't signed anything yet. He had to refuse this man outright.

“Come now, young man, just sign here! Lord Avery is actively recruiting slaves to train a guard, and if you get in, consider yourself lucky! Endless bread and mutton await you, far better than starving as a farmer!” the man, Walter, said with a smile.

Endless bread and mutton?

What a tall tale! If being a slave were so grand, why wasn’t he signing up himself?

Such fortune surely wouldn’t fall into the hands of a destitute farmer like Oliver.

Oliver had heard of Lord Avery. Several nearby villages belonged to this nobleman. His influence was substantial, and it was rumored that he had even employed a mage to work for him!

Lately, there had been whispers that Lord Avery was doing everything in his power to seize farmers' lands, buying up the unemployed and turning them into slaves. What was he training a guard for? Was war on the horizon, or was he planning to hunt magical creatures in the forest?

In either case, this so-called slave guard would likely end up as cannon fodder. Once inside, there would be no escape.

“Just sign already; don’t waste my precious time,” Walter urged again. His servant promptly handed Oliver a contract.

“Oliver, what’s holding you back? Sign the contract, and delicious buttered bread and honey mead await you! You poor fellow have probably never tasted honey mead!” the servant chimed in cheerfully.

Oliver recognized the servant; he seemed familiar, likely a companion of Grik, that local thug, often seen drinking and causing trouble. Walter was clearly a minor enforcer from Lord Avery's estate—someone who wouldn’t waste time on a poor farmer like Oliver.

It was evident that Grik and his cronies had targeted him. Even the seizure of Oliver's land could be linked to this scheme. In an instant, many pieces fell into place for Oliver.

“Respected steward, I wish only to be a good farmer. Slavery is not for me. I cannot sign the contract. Pardon me.”

Though he cursed inwardly, Oliver maintained a polite facade. He had no choice; this minor noble represented a power beyond his current means.

A hush fell over the scene. They hadn’t expected Oliver to refuse!

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Walter and his servant took a moment to reassess the young farmer before them, surprise flickering in their eyes.

Is he not hungry enough yet?

Stubbornness won’t help him.

To Oliver's surprise, Walter didn’t react with anger. Instead, he smiled, his tone calm as he said, “It seems you need a few more days to consider.

This hunger hasn’t increased your wisdom, but we can wait. Just know that your value as a slave will only decrease with time.”

Walter was confident.

As the weather grew colder, where would a helpless, landless farmer’s son find food? Sooner or later, he would come begging to be a slave.

With that, Walter and his servant departed.

Oliver exhaled deeply, feeling some relief. The small creatures he had caught were stowed in a linen sack, unconscious. Walter had not seen them—otherwise, perhaps their intentions might have changed.

“This isn’t over. Grik, Walter, Lord Avery—they won’t easily give up on me. I need to grow stronger, so I can stand against them.”

I must quickly become a true mage! He had awakened his magical core; now all he needed were spells and practice! But such precious knowledge, where could he find it?

----------------------------------------

After a long sleep, Oliver trekked to Eccleston, carrying his linen sack.

He sold the small animals to a tavern there, earning five gleaming silver coins and a hundred copper pieces!

These coins felt heavy in his small bag, a tangible sign of his efforts.

He then stopped at a roadside shop, purchasing two chicken and mushroom pies, a bottle of ale, and two chunks of clean rye bread.

It was worth mentioning—the pie was absolutely delicious!

The golden crust, when bitten into, released a rich aroma that made his mouth water! Especially after a long period of hunger, and having last eaten sawdust bread, Oliver felt ravenous.

This meal cost him an entire silver coin.

Dining in a tavern was indeed expensive, but Oliver thought it was worth it. This was just the beginning; he intended to eat even better in the future!

However, news of Oliver's fortune spread quickly among the farmers of Eccleston.

“Lucky you! Finding a sharp-toothed weasel like that is no small feat!” exclaimed a freckled, wiry boy with brown hair and green eyes, approaching Oliver.

This boy, James, was from the same village as Oliver but lived better, with plenty of strong young men in his family. At least he didn’t have to worry about going hungry.

“Is there any chance you’ll catch another? Take me with you!”

“Just a lucky find. You want to be a hunter? What about your fields?” Oliver shot back, contemplating his next move. He needed to secure a hunter’s identity quickly; otherwise, how would he explain his future catches?

“Just joking! The forest is too dangerous. To be a hunter, you’d need to become a knight or even a mage first!” James mused.

“Indeed, to become a mage, you’d need to study at Oakridge Academy. Do you know how much their tuition is, James?”

Oakridge Academy had a nice name, but it was merely a small school in town, with only a handful of teachers and students combined. They taught both magic and knightly skills.

“Hahaha, asking around, others might not know, but I’ve researched it—it’s a hundred and twenty silver coins a year.”

A hundred and twenty silver coins? That was an impossible sum for a typical farmer. But for Oliver now, it seemed within reach.

“Do you want to become a mage?” After stating the price, James couldn’t help but ask again.

Although his tone was not mocking, it was clear he doubted Oliver's potential to attend the academy. After all, just days ago, Oliver had been begging for food, nearly starving.

Becoming a mage? It was a laughable notion.

Meanwhile, James’s family had been scrimping for generations, and finally, they had saved enough for his tuition.

His father had already decided to send him to Oakridge Academy next month!

Perhaps their family’s fate would hinge on his success. As for Oliver? He should cherish this moment while he could speak to James as an equal. Once he became a great mage, their past camaraderie would be a source of pride for Oliver, a tale to boast to other farmers.

James felt a swell of pride.

Oliver didn’t notice the pride hidden in James’s words, but he did glean much information about mages.

It was much like he had predicted. Awakening the magical core was key to becoming a mage! Yet having only a magical core was far from sufficient.

The magical core was like the power source for a mage; to truly be called a mage, one needed to learn spells and how to cast magic. Oliver currently possessed only a few innate spells—his magical core had granted him these talents.

He had to learn to cast basic spells like Fireball and Water Arrow before he could genuinely claim the title of mage!