After chatting with his teacher for a little while more, asking some questions that he hadn't yet been able to answer himself regarding some other subjects, Ron bowed out of the conversation and made his way out of the fancy restaurants, ignoring the jealous looks of the nearby acolytes.
'I need to go buy some ingredients... I've already got all the equipment I'll ever need, and Teacher already showed me the basics. Oh, right, I also need some potion formulas. Don't forget those.' Ron silently made a list of all the things he needed in the safety of his mind.
A grimace appeared on his lips. Everything he needed was at the acolyte market, where there were sure to be tons of people.
While he could technically ask someone to go buy them for him, he needed to be there himself to inspect the bought ingredients. He'd been saving up the allowance the academy gave him since he arrived here, giving him a modest sum of 30 magical crystals to work with. It wasn't little, but it wasn't a lot either. In fact, for a rank 3 acolyte, he could be considered quite poor.
But it was enough. Letting out a sad sigh, he made his way through the convoluted hallways and areas, walking for well over 20 minutes before finally reaching his destination.
The acolyte market could be considered the loudest, harshest, and most obnoxious area in the entire Fire Mausoleum. Scammers and thiefs ran rampant in here, robbing the weaker students of everything they could get their hands on, either through sweet lies or with violence.
Honestly, Ron was kind of glad he was regarded so highly by the higher-ups of the academy. It shielded him from practically all of the harsher reality of the magus world and also allowed him to ignore some of the parts he really wished didn't exist. Like this place, for example.
Nonetheless, Ron sighed, he knew that he wouldn't be shielded forever. With a mix of resignation and determination dominating his inner feelings, Ron made his grand debut into the market.
Only for everyone to ignore him, probably not recognizing him or being too busy to do so. Which made sense, in a way. He was very famous in the section of the academy he lived in, but for the other sections, they probably had only heard of a 'child genius'. The market was one of the few places that all sections converged in, which allowed him to go incognito.
Still, his distinctive golden hair that had only been growing longer and more luscious ever since coming to this academy attracted some attention. After all, the products of some backwater mortal country simply could not compare to the stuff magi had access to, and as much as Ron loathed to admit it, he was starting to love his beautiful hair.
Looking around with interest, Ron passed by the stalls fearlessly, curiously browsing some of the items while having no intention to actually buy any of them. He recognized a great many of the things being sold here, with most being common items that acolytes could get through missions or outside markets.
Still, they garnered very little real interest from Ron. After all, he already had access to most things held here, most being given to him by his mentor, and they were obviously leagues ahead compared to the rabble being sold here.
He did spot a couple of the things he needed here and there, but he didn't bother buying them. After all, although he disliked crowds, it was still an interesting experience browsing through all of the various stalls and listening to the sellers describe their things as though they were ancient artifacts crafted by the gods themselves.
"Hm? What's this feeling?" Ron murmured to himself, feeling a jolt of electricity run through his body. It wasn't a bad feeling at all, rather, it was the opposite. He could feel something calling out to him through his spiritual force, and he could tell the nascent flame inside his sea of consciousness trembling in excitement.
Ron quickly followed the feeling, arriving in front of the stall manned by a bored-looking student that had no body hair or nose. He was carelessly smoking a cigarette, something that made Ron's sensitive nose wrinkle from the bad smell it gave off.
The student noticed that Ron was in front of his stall and looking at him and, instead of greeting him, he just glared. "What do you want, brat? Did you lose your mommy? Get lost, you little shit."
Ron was taken aback by the aggressiveness of the student, and for a second, something inside of him demanded this insolent idiot's head. However, he suppressed it. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm just here to buy something." He said, careful to keep his voice as polite as possible.
The student just sneered. "I don't sell to brats. What are you even doing in the prestigious Fire Academy? You one of those slaves? Where's your master?"
And, with those words, Ron's control flew out the window. The student was a mere rank 1 acolyte, hence, he couldn't even register Ron dashing forward and grabbing him by the neck, slamming him through his shitty stall and slamming him to the ground.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Now, listen here, scum. You think I'm a slave? You call me a piece of shit? You think I'm a brat? You've got guts, weakling." Ron sneered in return, literal smoke emerging from the sides of his mouth as the student struggled desperately, unable to breathe or speak as Ron had him by the neck with one hand and covered his mouth with the other.
He tried to hit Ron's smaller body, but all it did was hurt him. He even tried to stab him with a hidden dagger, but it shattered before even touching Ron's skin, courtesy of the spell he'd been preparing. "Now, now. Attempting to kill me? That could land you a lot of trouble." Ron commented, not relenting as his hands only tightened around the student's neck.
A crowd had long since formed, watching the brutal, one-sided slaughter unfold. Nobody made a move to help the downed student, and instead, some were even cheering Ron on. Evidently, someone amongst the crowd was from his section of the academy, because people were soon whispering things about him.
The student was as pale as it could get at this point and looked as though he would faint and likely die soon from the lack of air to his lungs. When he was at his limit, Ron finally released him.
He had no mercy for idiots like these. Perhaps he'd been indoctrinated, or perhaps it was just the law of the jungle showing itself. Or, god forbid, he'd always been like this, just with the chains of a peaceful society holding him down. But now, he only felt elation at this violence.
"I think... All your belongings are a good apology to me. Sparing your life can already be considered kind of me." He harshly sentenced out before landing a punch in the trembling student's chest. He held back a lot, only causing him to fall down and wheeze.
Ron roughly shoved his hands into the student's pocket, and when they came back out, he held 8 magic crystals in them. "Not bad. Now, scram."
The abused and beaten student didn't dare say anything as he immediately fled. Snorting in contempt, Ron returned to his stall and began to take anything and everything of value.
The stall wasn't anything impressive. It was a little cart with some goods on display, most of them worthless to Ron, but there were some goodies hidden underneath as well, and Ron quickly began checking them out.
His eyes brightened when his gaze landed upon a box hidden deeper than any other. He could tell the thing that his very soul seemed to be hungering for was hidden in there.
Originally, he wouldn't have minded giving away all his crystals for it. After all, he could always borrow more from his teacher. However, it seemed that it wouldn't be necessary after all.
The crowd had been observing his rampage since it began, and it showed no signs of dispersing. Ron graced them with one of the harshest glares he could muster, causing those who'd stubbornly stayed to quickly flee like rabbits.
Although he wanted nothing more than to open the damned box and find out what was inside, he knew it was better to do so in a safer area. Hence, with great reluctance, he stored the box in an inner pocket of his robe. Strangely enough, although the box wasn't small, it didn't even cause a bulge to appear.
With his business with the place done, and with loot that should have been worth around 15 crystals in total, not counting the mysterious box, Ron had basically increased his wealth by half. Still, he disliked this method. Plundering fellow students just didn't sit right with him.
He tried to rejoin the crowd but quickly found that everyone was now giving him a wide berth, not daring to even fart in his presence. Even fellow rank 3 acolytes kept their distance, eyeing him with either wariness, fear, or outright admiration.
Sighing in annoyance, Ron retraced his steps back to a stall that specialized in potion ingredients. The owner looked outright terrified when he appeared, but Ron did his best to act polite, not wishing to alienate the rest of the student body like this.
Thankfully, when Ron showed his magic crystals, the rank 2 acolyte seller quickly changed his tune, showing him all sorts of ingredients and fawning over him, giving him great discounts.
In the end, he only spent 10 of the planned 30 crystals that he'd set out with, and gained 15 more along the way. Furthermore, he now had the recipes of the common strength and healing potions, along with a slightly rarer bug extermination potion, along with over a dozen sets of ingredients for each.
'Although I trashed and robbed a student, these guys really don't care, huh...' Ron thought to himself. He noticed that, as word of his deed spread, the people who'd been eying him like a piece of candy now gave him reverent looks instead.
Strength truly was the ultimate symbol of status in this cruel world. You're rich? What does it mean if I can just kill you and take all your stuff? You're the son of a noble? It doesn't change the fact I can murder you with my pinkie.
In a way, it made sense. In a society where a common person could potentially obtain the power to shatter worlds with a fart, equality was a pipe dream for the delusional or the absurdly strong.
'I guess I'll just have to make sure I'm always the stronger one then...' Ron smiled wryly to himself as he thought this. He didn't think of himself as a bad person, but in this world, only truly 'bad' people could live and thrive.
Shaking his head to get rid of these dark thoughts, Ron finally reached his apartment. When he entered it, he was surprised to find that it had been changed during his absence.
It had already been high-class before, but now, it truly looked like a V.I.P room. There were even some of the dishes he'd enjoyed from the restaurant sitting on a new table that was exquisitely carved from expensive-looking wood.
It wasn't the only addition, either. Ron explored his residence, finding that more or less everything had been upgraded. In the end, Ron could only guess that his status amongst the higher-ups had probably just taken a massive leap upward, thus leading to more benefits.
He went down into the lab to store the ingredients and his spoils and found that it too had been upgraded, and in a much more significant way than before. Although it still couldn't compare to his teacher's private lab, not even close, it was still leagues ahead in terms of before, with shining new equipment having been brought in.
He ignored it, for now, having more important things to focus on. After doing the menial work of storing everything away, Ron turned to the box that his very soul seemed to be craving for.
"Now... Just what's in you?" Ron asked the box as he carefully took the lid off.