"Senior, why did you bring here, exactly?"
Alan finally couldn't hold back and asked Blanche directly.
Blanche, however, rely chuckled softly without giving a straightforward answer. Instead, she strode over to one of the nearby steles and, without warning, delivered a fierce whip kick.
Boom!
With a deep rumble, countless cracks spiderwebbed across the stele's already weathered surface.
Monts later, the ancient monunt, which had withstood the passage of countless years, collapsed entirely into a pile of rubble.
Amidst the debris, a massive mana core gradually erged, revealing its shimring form.
Alan stared in surprise and turned to Blanche.
"This is…?"
Blanche nodded with a faint smile.
"That's right. What you're seeing is a mana core containing the Origin Mana of one of the fantasy beasts."
"If we were to use today's standards to asure its quality," she added, "its purity would be equivalent to that of a ninth-grade mana core."
"And there are twelve of them in total—enough for you to exchange for an entire warehouse full of high-grade staffs."
"This…"
Alan was at a loss for words.
From his small, remote hotown to the grand imperial capital, he had traveled such a long and perilous journey, all for the sake of curing his sister Isabella's strange illness.
Along the way, he had encountered no shortage of misfortune—but precious few blessings.
After being rejected by Lioncrest Academy and falling into despair, it was Gayle and Sirius Academy who had reached out to him with a helping hand.
Alan was not the kind of person to forget kindness.
In fact, his determination to oppose Lioncrest Academy wasn't solely because they had abducted his sister—it was also to uphold the honor of Sirius Academy.
He wanted to prove to the entire capital that Lioncrest Academy was not invincible, and Sirius Academy was not a broken, solitary wolf that had lost its fangs.
The bitterness of being ostracized would eventually sharpen into claws and fangs, ready to tear into the vulnerable throats of kings.
"I'll be heading back now," Blanche said suddenly.
"These mana cores are all yours to deal with. Don't worry about the Academy's side. To us, these things are practically useless now. We might as well give them to you."
With that, Blanche turned around and left the Starry Sanctum without another word.
Alan stood silently for a long while, deep in thought.
Finally, he walked slowly toward the pile of shimring mana cores.
…
By dusk, Alan left the Academy with several mana cores securely stored on him.
After he departed, Gayle's figure quietly appeared at the entrance of the Starry Sanctum, Blanche following at his side.
Gayle watched Alan's gradually retreating figure and sighed heavily.
"Silly girl," he said, "those mana cores were ant to be your dowry. How could you just hand them over like that?"
Blanche only smiled softly.
"You once said yourself, those valuable mana cores were reserved for the future of Sirius Academy."
"And now," she added, her eyes firm, "the one representing the Academy's future is Alan, not ."
"Placing them in the right hands isn't a loss, is it?"
"You—!"
Gayle opened his mouth but ended only with a long, weary sigh.
He knew she was right.
If Sirius Academy wished to avoid repeating the tragedies of the past, they had no choice but to bet everything on Alan.
A few monts later, Alan arrived at the Church of Steam and Magic, a towering establishnt located in the heart of the imperial capital.
Although he had once clashed unpleasantly with them during his ti in Ironblood City, Daniel's intervention afterward had managed to nd the relationship, ensuring their continued cooperation.
That, however, was beside the point.
What truly mattered was that the Church of Steam and Magic remained the world's only relatively formal and reliable trading ground.
Alan didn't dare risk going to those small, shady marketplaces—where scams were more common than honest trades.
He stepped out from a narrow alley, ready to enter the Church's main building when, without warning, a figure darted out from the shadows and blocked his path.
Alan narrowed his eyes and got a good look at the newcor.
The man wore a brown leather jacket, and on his chest was pinned a badge—a gold coin crossed with a hand—the unmistakable symbol of a bounty hunter.
But what caught Alan's attention even more was the weapon strapped to the man's back: a massive crossbow, almost as large as a siege weapon.
It was a size no ordinary human could reasonably carry, and it practically radiated danger.
"Another one coming for my life, huh?"
Alan grinned wickedly and casually asked the unwelco visitor.
The bounty hunter pulled out a photograph, compared it briefly to Alan's face, and then rasped in a hoarse voice,
"That's right."
Before the last syllable even finished, Alan had already vanished from his spot.
The bounty hunter instantly tensed, instinctively swinging the giant crossbow around to shield his front.
It seed this weapon served not only for offense but as a makeshift shield as well.
"Too slow!"
Alan's voice suddenly echoed from behind him.
The bounty hunter reacted purely on instinct, yanking the crossbow downward and pulling the trigger in one fluid motion.
BOOM!
An ear-splitting explosion rocked the alleyway.
The ground beneath them was blasted apart, leaving behind a massive, smoking crater.
The force of the explosion hurled both Alan and the bounty hunter into the air.
Mutual Destruction—it was a desperate, self-damaging tactic, the bounty hunter's only viable response when faced with imminent defeat.
But Alan wasn't finished.
Even as he was blown onto a rooftop by the blast, he imdiately tightened the muscles in his legs, kicking off from the wall behind him like a spring coiled to its limit and then released.
He hurtled straight toward the bounty hunter with terrifying montum.
The bounty hunter had entered full combat mode now.
Even through the smoke and dizziness, he tracked Alan's every movent with hawk-like vigilance.
The mont Alan launched himself, the bounty hunter repositioned his crossbow and fired another explosive bolt straight at him.
BOOM! BOOM!
Twin detonations shook the air as the bolt collided with Alan mid-flight.
Seeing the double explosion, the bounty hunter allowed himself a brief mont of triumph.
Only to realize—Alan was still coming.
Bursting through the smoke, Alan's figure erged like a demon of war, his fist rocketing toward the bounty hunter's face.
CRACK!
The bounty hunter crumpled to the ground, dazed and barely conscious.
It felt as though he had been the one hit by the explosive bolt instead of Alan.
Alan, panting heavily, staggered back a step.
That last explosive bolt had been laced with sothing—so kind of toxic powder.
Even just inhaling a little had left Alan feeling dizzy and sluggish, as if he were drunk.
It wasn't just an ordinary explosive bolt—it was a poison bomb!
Knowing he had little ti before the poison fully took effect, Alan clenched his fists once more, channeling Mana Rupture and Mana Blades over his knuckles.
He was determined to end this fight decisively.
The bounty hunter, groggy but still conscious, staggered to his feet.
His eyes widened in terror when he saw Alan, mana crackling violently around his fists, preparing for a final, devastating blow.
The sheer pressure radiating from Alan's clenched fists made every hair on the bounty hunter's body stand on end.
He swallowed hard and muttered under his breath,
"If that punch lands… not even ten lives will be enough to save …"
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