Rudolf carefully put away the Tooth of the Living Dead—a precious item that could save his life in the hands of a witch hunter. With it in his possession, he felt a sudden surge of security.

He once again placed the wizard’s head into the vertical pit, carefully burying it before quickly returning to his horse. Mounting up, Rudolf rode away, continuing his patrol.

Half an hour later, the gravedigger, Old Grey, arrived at the spot where the horse had been tied. "Young people these days have no sense of hygiene," he grumbled, noticing the horse dung left behind. He cleaned up the area briefly before heading back to his small hut for the night.

The next day, Rudolf stepped into Sheriff Claude's office. Hearing the door close, Claude looked up in mild surprise. Rudolf sat down across from him, cleared his throat, and said, "Sheriff, after the last witch hunt, all the trainee patrolmen I knew died. I’ve been thinking about some things, and I’d like to seek your help."

Claude set aside the documents in his hand and looked at Rudolf with sympathy. The young man had been deeply shaken since sustaining severe injuries during the last hunt.

"Go ahead, Rudolf. I'll help however I can."

Rudolf asked, "Sheriff, how can I become an alchemist?"

"An alchemist?" Claude looked at him in astonishment. "I can help you with anything—except that."

"What about a knight, then?"

"Anything but those two things."

"A druid?"

"Anything but those three things."

Rudolf simply stared at him. As a leader, Claude began to feel somewhat awkward under the scrutiny.

"Rudolf, let me explain. I understand how you feel. Among the twelve apostles, knights, alchemists, and druids are known as the Three Chosen Apostles of the Divine. Knights form the nobility of the kingdom, alchemists govern the cities, and druids oversee the countryside.

If you want to become an alchemist’s assistant, you need recommendation letters from three alchemists. I can be one, and I can help you find the other two, but their signatures each require a fee of 100 gold shields. It's a necessary expense—alchemists, as the name implies, need a vast amount of metals for research and weapon materials. Gold, silver, copper, lead, and rarer metals—they accept them all. Every alchemist is both a pauper and a millionaire at the same time.

Once you have three recommendation letters, the Fabro City Alchemist Guild will review your application. The attending alchemists at the review meeting charge a collective fee of 100 gold shields. Passing the review isn't guaranteed, and any issues raised could cost you even more money. Convincing the guild leader will require about 200 gold shields.

All in all, you’ll need at least 500 gold shields. Fabro City only approves about ten new alchemists each year, and the guild is extremely strict about it. If you’re even one gold shield short, they won’t process your application.

I really can’t help you much with this. My salary from last month all went to Lady Claire, and the month before that, it went to Lady Carla. I truly have no money to spare."

Rudolf did some quick calculations in his head. His current salary was two silver shields per month, and one gold shield equaled 24 silver shields. If he didn’t eat or drink, he’d need an entire year to earn just one gold shield. Five hundred gold shields… that would take 500 years. The number was simply absurd.

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"And what about becoming a knight?"

"Knights require noble lineage. Your blood must be noble, and no amount of money can change that," Claude said seriously. "Honestly, Rudolf, your best bet is to court a noble lady. The chances of your son becoming a knight are far higher than the chances of you becoming one yourself."

"And a druid?"

"Druids live in tribal communities in the wild. They usually only recruit new druids from within their own tribes," Claude explained. Then, in a comforting tone, he added, "Rudolf, some things are determined at birth. If you have them, you have them. If you don’t, you never will."

"Sheriff, you’re really good at comforting people," Rudolf said dryly. "Next time, just don’t."

He stood up, ready to leave the office.

"Wait! Don't go—I can give you more guidance!"

Without looking back, Rudolf replied, "I’ve got a toothache. I’m going to see the dentist."

As Rudolf left, Claude called after him one last time. "The full moon festival is next month, and we still need a sacrifice. Keep an eye out for any leads."

"Got it! I’m off to see the dentist first."

Knights, alchemists, and druids—these were the Divinely Chosen Apostles, those who could walk freely under the sun. The so-called "sacrifices," on the other hand, were the Heretical Apostles, those deemed unworthy.

After hearing Claude's "comforting" words, Rudolf made up his mind. Who cared about heresy? He had already arrived in this world, already taken this path—how could he not become an apostle?

Two hours later, the door of the dentist’s clinic in Leman Town swung open, then shut.

Rudolf stepped out, clutching his swollen cheek. Behind him, the dentist, Mr. Tiss, bowed repeatedly, apologizing profusely.

Rudolf had just had a wisdom tooth extracted, and the pain left him dizzy. For some reason, the anesthetic—though it should have been enough—had a far weaker effect on him than expected. Tragically, he only discovered this after the extraction had already begun.

Each time the dentist operated, pain wracked Rudolf’s body, causing him to convulse. He tried his best to keep his head still, but the sweat beading on his forehead and the tightly clenched fists spoke volumes about how much effort that took.

Realizing the anesthetic wasn’t working properly, the dentist began to sweat as much as Rudolf. When he attempted to administer a second dose, he discovered, to his horror, that it would wear off again after a short time.

However, the situation was what it was—his gums were already cut open, and stopping now wouldn’t be appropriate. So, Dentist Tiss simply pretended that the anesthetic was working fine and went ahead with the extraction.

As Rudolf left, Tiss turned to his assistant and said, "A real man! That’s a real man right there!"

At the doorway, his assistant, Miss Abby, twisted a towel in her hands. The water dripping from it was sweat—sweat that Rudolf had left behind on the dental chair.

"A real man indeed! As expected of a patrol officer."

Rudolf didn’t hear their praise. He simply furrowed his brows, hiding his expression beneath his police cap.

He knew why the anesthetic had little effect on him. Just as the wizard had said—he was no longer an ordinary person.

Wizards had to die. That was a truth agreed upon by all apostles.

Rudolf had once wanted to become an alchemist, but now it was too late. Among the three apostolic awakening rituals—Wizard, Wordbearer, and Silverserpent—he could only choose to become a wizard. He had already been tainted by astral power, and now, his only choice was his best choice.

Underneath his coat, his shirt was drenched in sweat. He wanted to return to the precinct as soon as possible and change into fresh clothes.

A deep sense of gloom settled over him. He wasn’t sure if he could still consider the precinct his home.

After changing clothes, Rudolf stood by the window, watching people come and go in the precinct courtyard.

The Leman Town police force currently had only two apostles—Sheriff Claude and the veteran officer, Old Baby. The rest were just four or five trainee officers or patrolmen. Whatever Rudolf was planning to do, he had to wait until both Claude and Old Baby left the precinct.

Before long, Old Baby was the first to leave, heading home for the night.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Rudolf saw Sheriff Claude leave as well. The sheriff was dressed in a formal suit—clearly off to visit yet another lover.

This world, much like the medieval Europa Rudolf was familiar with, had a strong culture of extramarital affairs. Having a spouse who found a lover wasn’t the scary part—the scary part was when your spouse had a lover, and you didn’t.

Since Rudolf had taken the day off due to his tooth extraction, he wasn’t scheduled for patrol duty tonight. He could stay inside the precinct.

As midnight approached, the night-shift patrol trainees rode off on horseback, leaving the precinct nearly empty. Only then did Rudolf leave his dormitory.

Still clutching his sore cheek, he made his way through the offices, borrowing painkillers from everyone he encountered. He needed to confirm exactly who was still inside the precinct.

Because tonight… was the night of his awakening ritual.