High School of Demon Hunting

Chapter 1272: Chapter 19 Oleg

Oleg’s bloodline as a Slavic Ursi might have disappeared, but the hot temper inherited from the Bear Men didn’t change one bit. Upon hearing what that blonde curly-haired brat said, he instantly flew into a rage.

”What did you say?”

Oleg clenched his fist and leapt in front of Albani, his massive shadow completely enveloping the skinny Warlock as he roared, ”Say that again, I dare you!”

The other Grey-robed dock workers all quieted down, their eyes glinting as they watched the conflict unfold between Oleg and Albani. Their long-established mindset hadn’t yet allowed them to grasp the nature of this conflict.

”I meant, you’re better suited for this job.” Albani cleared his throat, his pallor betraying his fear as he repeated his earlier words. However, compared to before, his voice was much weaker.

Realizing that his voice was faint, the newly-promoted Northern District Wizard’s forehead flashed with the tadpole-shaped curse mark, and the frog that had been tightly held in his palm silently turned into a puff of black ash.

Then a dull light burst forth from the Mage book at Albani’s waist.

Without uttering a Spell, without using any Spell, just seeing that glimmer of light made the onlookers subconsciously step back—this was fear branded deep within their veins.

Upon seeing the glow emanating from the Mage book at Albani’s waist, Oleg reacted just like the other Tricksters.

He too took a step back.

The surge of Wrath from a moment ago dissipated with that step.

By the time he came to his senses, the ship’s employer had already wrapped an arm around Albani’s shoulder, beaming as he escorted him towards the dock’s rest area. That was where the Array Plate was monitored, at thirty Copper Coins an hour—a sum far surpassing the paltry ten Copper Coins earned for a ship’s worth of backbreaking labor.

Oleg looked around, his gaze somewhat vacant.

The once respectful glances of his peers seemed to have deepened a bit. Although they still obediently followed his orders, the faint restlessness among the crowd was something he could smell, clear as day, even through the walls of his belly.

This made him feel blocked up inside.

This oppressive emotion peaked when the boss handed out wages at the end of the workday. That Albani, who had hardly done any work all day, received the highest pay, and even shook his money pouch forcefully in front of him.

Clink clink clink.

”Thank you, boss!” The new Wizard drew out his thanks to the shipowner, and with a side glance at Oleg standing in the doorway, he said in a voice light enough for everyone to hear, ”A lifetime of hard labor, huh...”

Oleg clenched his fist, his head bowed at the doorway, like a statue.

After knocking off work, he didn’t join his familiar workmates for a meal, but instead bought a bottle of booze, sat outside the docks in a grassy nook, and accompanied by a plate of salted peanuts, he stayed there until darkness fell.

He wasn’t sulking. As the recognized chief of the North District docks, if he were to get drunk and sulk over a bit of vexation, he’d probably explode in a month.

Oleg was contemplating the road ahead.

To Wizards from outside, the North District appeared as a realm of Tricksters. But that didn’t mean the North District was united. In any large-scale organization, different agendas would emerge internally—let alone within a loose community.

Overall, the Tricksters of the North District could be divided into three factions.

One faction, like those in Gini Cottage, resided in the North District but never gave up on learning Magic, hoping to gain the real power of a Wizard. These Tricksters were generally younger and relatively more talented.

The second faction was the group to which Oleg belonged. These people had long-established roots in the North District, owning some property and influence to varying degrees. They were neither here nor there in the social hierarchy, their edges long since worn smooth by life, only wishing to live their days in peace.

The third group was those who had given up, with no property, no jobs, no ambitions—swindling, begging, living day by day, and many willing to strike a deal to sell their Soul to a Black Wizard for short-lived pleasures.

Oleg had always looked down on the other two types of people.

”Tricksters should just be tricksters, honestly living as tricksters, and they can lead a stable life. Don’t imitate those insane youngsters who wager their entire lives for magic!”

These were the words Oleg’s grandfather had said to him, and he had always treated them as a principle to live by.

Grandfather’s words were indeed not wrong. In Oleg’s short life, he had seen too many young tricksters transformed into monstrous shapes—neither human nor ghost—all for the sake of acquiring the ability to cast spells—many even paid with their lives as the price.

Perhaps it was a bit suffocating, but when it came to making a living in the North District, what did a little suffocation matter? Surviving steadily was more important than anything else.

In a few more years, he’d find an ordinary-looking female trickster for a wife—those too beautiful must have been used by the Wizards, Oleg thought that wasn’t safe—then have a chubby little boy, educating him to live honestly, just the same.

Generation after generation, perhaps it could go on like this.

Until today.

A young upstart who had just acquired the ability to cast spells trampled his face into the mud and ground it in. The seemingly solid belief that Oleg had always maintained collapsed like a sandcastle on the beach, washed over by a wave.

It was just a splash.

”Bang!”

The liquor bottle crashed heavily into the water, bounced a couple of times, then smashed against the pile of stones on the opposite bank, shattering into pieces. Oleg reached into his Da Lian and felt for the last bottle of Sea Monster Langmu.

He finally struggled to his feet.

He wanted magic power now.

And he wanted it right now!

Unexpectedly clear-headed after the alcohol, Oleg realized that although today it was just a small splash that reached his face, the tremendous wave behind that splash had already cast a long shadow.

People living in the North District were always extra sensitive to danger and opportunity.

The sooner he got the spell mark, the better, he scoured his memory for information about the owner of Gini Cottage, the Witch who had become the ’Great Sage’—the only thing he could think of was that she studied at the First University and head of the student council.

”Selling myself is a must, but how to sell?”

”I must sell something valuable and not have the old fellows poke my spine... But what else do I have to sell besides this body of mine?”

Holding the liquor bottle, carrying these troubles, Oleg staggered towards Gu Diao Street.

Then he saw a different night scene in the North District.

A group of tiny mushrooms scampering about, spitting out bubbles of sunlight. Illuminating the grim North District night with unusual clarity, they also made Oleg’s disheveled figure exceedingly clear.

”Stop running about in front of me, you arrogant, ruinous things that spoil the North District night and disturb our peace!” Oleg launched a kick and sent a mushroom, one that was spitting out puffs of sunlight, flying:

”Detestable things!”

The mushroom traced a pitiful arc through the air and struck heavily against a roadside stone post. A Gargoyle sculpture perched atop the post suddenly opened its large mouth, swallowing the magic-rich mushroom in one gulp.

”Burp...”

The Gargoyle let out a large, satisfied belch, and a little string of bubble-like sunlight trickled from the corner of its mouth, feebly shattering before it hit the ground, making its face look even more ferocious.

Finally, Oleg felt quite a bit more relieved at the bottom of his heart.