The president of the Noble Council was quite shrewd. Although he sold the Tower Master some face, he did not overly interfere, instead handing over the authority to deal with the situation to the Noble Council. This way, no matter how things turned out later, he had no part in it. He got his money, the female mentor got her fun.

Ronald did not defend himself or look at the frivolous blond man toying with the "Storm's Fury" staff. He pushed past the noble soldiers blocking his way and quietly walked out.

On both sides of the corridor, the sounds of curses shook the heavens. Some emotionally agitated females even ran up to Ronald, pointing at his head and spitting viciously.

The hideous faces reminded Ronald of his parents from his previous life, and the expressions on their faces when they scolded him for being useless. They were just as twisted as the ones before him now.

The two sets of faces gradually overlapped. The recurring nightmare that he could not escape even after crossing into another world had returned.

"Criminal! You've completely ruined the nobility's reputation - you should die to atone for your sins!"

"You disgusting worm, spewing nothing but lies! Why don't you just die?!"

"Hurry up and die!!!"

"Look at you, 30 years old with no garage, no savings, no girlfriend either!"

"If only you weren't my son, how much better that would be..."

Amidst the torrent of verbal abuse, Ronald felt dazed, as if nothing had changed after all.

*

*

*

The academy was very efficient. By the time Ronald reached his dorm room, he saw apprentices wearing the student council insignia already tossing his belongings outside one by one.

The area was crowded with onlooking apprentices. Seeing Ronald arrive, they eagerly revealed their anticipation for the impending spectacle.

But Ronald did not erupt in anger as the crowds expected. After the nearly unbearable humiliation from before, this little matter could no longer stir his emotions.

From the pile of personal items strewn about like garbage, Ronald picked out some clean clothes. He had intended to take his magic books too, but could not find them - the enforcing student council members had likely pilfered them out of greed.

Ronald did not loudly demand the return of his magic books. One, because he had already memorized all the magic detailed within. Two, the cruel experiences had taught him to remain composed on the surface while silently etching the faces of the perpetrators into his memory. Carrying his bundle, Ronald left the academy.

On the ninth floor of the Swire Grand Magic Tower, Morison Hall, the ninth Tower Master, was also notified of Ronald's departure as he sipped his tea.

Putting down the "Storm's Fury" staff, Morison instructed his nephew, Harlington: "The man has left. Due to propriety, I cannot directly intervene, but I have arranged a knight squad for you. I need not say more about what to do - tidy things up properly afterwards. This way, even if the Lannister family looks into it, I can block things for you."

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"Don't worry, brother-in-law. I definitely won't disappoint you. He's just a banished foreign nobody. With one strike from me, he'll be crushed like an ant." With that said, Harlington cast a longing gaze at the formal-grade staff on the tea table.

"Take it, just don't be too ostentatious. Snowdrift City has the magic tower watching, but it's still not safe everywhere, all the time. Those foreign mongrels will dare to attack the tower if the reward is sufficient. I don't want you coming to me in tears next time because the staff got snatched. Do you understand?"

"I understand, brother-in-law."

"Then go on."

Harlington bowed and took his leave. Stepping out of the magic tower gates, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Despite his brother-in-law's casual attitude, Harlington still felt constrained around him. Even reined in, the aura the other man exuded pressed down on him like a boulder. Sometimes, even just a slightly chilled tone was enough to leave Harlington breathless, as if fixed in the sights of an apex predator - torturous every moment.

Suppressing his apprehension, Harlington raised the Storm's Fury staff, gazing at the glowing formal-grade core atop it. His heart burned with fervor.

He finally had a staff of his own. No more sidelong glances over relying on backdoor methods!

But first, there was still one thing to take care of - crushing that ant.

...

With no threat of war, and its geographical location bordering various nations, Snowdrift City thrived in commerce, its people prosperous.

Here, one could find the latest and most popular novelties of the current era's nations - new dwarven spectacles, elven headdresses, foreign silk shawls, and more.

The local residents were also highly distinctive. Men often wore top hats, sleeveless vests beneath, and long coats over them. Some even carried canes, walking with upright, proud bearing.

Women wore gorgeous chiffon gowns, circlet hats crafted by elves, or sun parasols decorated with ornaments. They drifted in and out of exquisite shops, conversing elegantly with fawning suitors.

The vintage scenery captivated Ronald's eyes. If not for the false charges, he mused he might have stood among such a scene himself...

In the fawners' position.

But cruel reality had taught him a lesson, showing how pivotal power was in this era.

Ronald turned away from the vibrant sights, heading towards the other side of the city - Nightingale Street and the Adventurers' Guild there.

His purpose was not revelry, of course, but to apply for an adventurer identity certificate.

Ronald had already planned out his short-term goals.

Since he was unwelcome here, he would find his place elsewhere. He intended to further his magical studies at the Aireach Royal Academy of Magic - reputedly the best magic academy across all southern nations.

Ronald was obsessed with getting stronger, so he naturally would not pass up this opportunity.

As for the strict requirements of the entrance examinations, he did not think they would pose much difficulty.

After reading the fundamentals of magic, Ronald had a general grasp of his own talents and advancement pace.

There was no doubt his aptitude for magic was tremendously gifted.

Over thousands of years, apprentice-level magic had been honed by predecessors to near perfection, almost incapable of further optimization.

Yet as a lowly apprentice, Ronald was able, through sudden inspiration alone, to modify the fireball spell and greatly amplify its power...

Something grand mages may not accomplish in their lifetimes, casually done by Ronald. This spoke volumes about his magical talents.

And he did not merely possess a gift for modifying magic - his talents included wordless casting, mastery over all elements, and more.

He was born to be a mage, with elemental power flowing through his veins rather than blood.

So Ronald did not worry about failing to meet the requirements. His only concern was the expense.

Training a mage cost a fortune. To blaze a trail in the magical arts required a mountain of gold.

And currently Ronald had no money.

His family likely would not fund him either.

From his memories, his father was an extremely hypocritical, old-fashioned, opportunistic man. His eyes saw only profit and expanding the family's influence.

To a useless embarrassment like Ronald, he would feel nothing but excess and hindrance.

...

The guild receptionist was very pretty, but had an awful attitude. She dealt with Ronald in a blatantly indifferent manner, barely stopping short of rolling her eyes.

It took several times longer to finish his registration. As Ronald turned to leave with his shiny new wooden tag, an adventurer with a gold tag happened to step up. The receptionist, who looked at Ronald with distaste just moments ago, instantly switched faces and eagerly fawned over the new arrival, solicitously crowding around him.

She resembled a tail-wagging retriever begging for treats.