44 Bet

Melvinger Magical Society, Dragon Pavillion.

Later that day, George attended the weekly meeting of the Melvinger Magical Society. After a short briefing on the military state of the city which had stabilized, with orcs sieging Melvinger City, the wandering acolytes began sharing their newest findings.

It seemed like they were completely oblivious to the fact that thousands of orc warriors were awaiting the slightest opportunity to destroy and massacre their frail bodies. However, George could see through their acts. Although they would never show it, they were afraid, afraid of the orc shamans, afraid of the orc warriors. The sight of these green humanoid creatures with bodies made for battling shook their inner souls.

George had ordered the death of a wandering acolyte earlier this day, yet it could not show on his face. Over the two years he spent in this world, and especially the past year where he would have to deal with countless injured soldiers and knights, he was used to the scent of death. As dehumanizing as it was, he grew slightly indifferent to it.

Still, it was one of the first individuals that he had sentenced to death, and even though people dying were quite something, ordering their deaths was quite a different deal. Inwardly, George was thinking, as if he was trying to escape reality.

A glass of the finest wine in his hand, he drowned his worries in alcohol. Unfortunately, his body was too strong and eliminated the alcohol as soon as it entered his body. It tasted good, but it would require him barrels of wine to get drunk.

"My good sir, it seems like you are enjoying my collection of wine!", the old Karl came with a friendly smile.

George enjoyed the old man's presence. Although he was just a newly advanced rank 2 acolyte with grade 1 talent, he possessed experience, knowledge and a fighting spirit that was rarely seen among wandering acolytes. Better still, the man was funny.

"Have you seen the Mayor today? Look at him, he is as pale as a sheet made of goat skin!", the old man mocked

George smiled, laughing inwardly. If only the old man knew that he was the one who had caused this facial expression to appear on the Mayor's usually stoic face.

"How are the furnaces going?", George asked

The Old Karl smiled: "As hot as any highborn lady, my dear friend! More seriously, I have finished making my 123rd sword this morning. All of them are of pristine quality, and will surely strengthen the strength of the Melvinger city guard order. Was it your lady that commanded you those killing toys?"

George shook his head: "Well, she did appreciate my help and plans on giving the bills to the Mayor. However, the idea actually came from myself. I was quite horrified to hear that the men who risked their lives against orcs had to fight with average weapons. Against orcs, average weapons will be stuck in muscles and bones, and might even snap under the pressure of strong orc chieftains. Any soldier who falls because of their gears' lacking quality, is a man that will be missed by a family and by all of this city's inhabitants, us included. And if he does survive, he will be giving me more work to do as the owner of the Medicine Hall"

The Old Karl smiled: "What a speech...I bet you could earn the heart of countless ladies if you repeated just that in a banquet, haha! Oh, perhaps I should not say that aloud...I would not want to draw the ire of the Queen Strategist..."

George laughed it and gulped his glass of wine without much thoughts.

Thereafter, they began discussing theories. George gave hints at the old man on how to gather Earth Elemental Particles from Luce Alloy, based on his biochip's calculations, but this was quite a complex matter, which even his biochip would need several hours of simulations to give a complete answer.

The old man was flabbergasted by the insights George was giving. He always knew George to be a talented and knowledgeable young man, but the insight had just given far exceeded anything he expected. Even rank 3 acolytes would have trouble understanding the core of his problems, or the concepts behind them. His rantings had been heard over and over again for decades in the Melvinger Magical Society, yet no one had come even close to giving him a path to explore. George was different. Hearing the matter for the very first time, he effortlessly gave him insights that he would have never come up with.

Eyes shining with gratitude and curiosity, the old man said: "Do you want to make a bet, George?"

George nodded: "What a lovely idea...What do you want to bet on?"

The old man looked at George with intense eyes: "White Wolf...You must have heard of him, right?"

George nodded.

[White Wolf]

The Outer Area was composed of three main factions: Ghouls, undead beings who had somehow earned the ability to sustain injuries with extreme durability at the cost of their soul. Although they possessed some intellect, it could not compare to that of humans, and they mostly learned nothing after being 'turned' into ghouls, only retaining their former memories as humans.

Besides ghouls, there were thugs living under the leadership of Crow, offering protection in exchange for food and copper coins.

As for the remaining faction, there stood [Werewolves], creatures that preyed on human flesh, hiding among humans and living among them, mimicking their behaviour and etiquette while hunting souls who did not have a roof over their head during the night. The more flesh they ate, the stronger they would become. And [White Wolf], as the alpha leader of the most powerful werewolf pack in the Outer City, was a mass murderer who had hunted hundreds.

Of course, he most likely killed sinful individuals, but it did not change the fact that his actions claimed the lives of many individuals. In this world, however, this was perfectly fine. For most people in the slums, his presence was actually glorified, as he was in a position of strength that prevented the ghouls from running rampant.

"He has offered several invitations to the Melvinger Magical Society, and claimed that he wanted to meet you. Of course, had it been a few months ago, I would have done my utmost to stop you from meeting him, but after seeing your performance at the two Melvinger Knight Festivals, I am not too worried about your safety. I know you like wagers. If you can get the werewolves to fight for Melvinger City, then I will give you the [Giant Tree Leaf] that I have gotten in my youth"

George's eyes instantly widened in shock.

[Giant Tree Leaf]

This was the kind of magical ingredient that any knight would dream of. It could raise the strength of a knight by half, and although it had limited effects on peak rank knights and grand knights, many noble houses would spend thousands of gold coins just to earn some information about a potential giant tree leaf location. Some kingdoms would spend a fortune to get their hands on such a treasure.

However, George knew yet another use of this magical ingredient. As an alchemist, he was more knowledgeable about magical ingredients than most acolytes in the Abyssal Bone forest Academy. There, he had learned of a way to make poison out of it, poison so potent that it had the power to kill giants.

Although it was a shame not to use the ingredient on one of his subordinates, George needed a trump card to win this war. No matter how powerful an orc chieftain might be, the poison harnessed from a Giant Tree Leaf would kill it without any doubt. It was after all a poison that even Magi would not survive after it enters their blood system.