“He’s bullshiting,” Alvir said.

  I scrunched my brow and gave the man an incredulous look. “You think he would let that much gold slip away for the fun of it? I might not have known Loklan for long, but he doesn’t seem to be the type.”

  “He isn’t.”

  “Are you going to elaborate?” I said.

  “I know Loklan,” Alvir shrugged. “Hard not to when he’s the second best hunter in the city. I can even guess why he’d think to do that. Suffice to say, he’s already paid his crew from his own pocket and pretended it came from you. But this…it’ll make my role much harder.”

  “Wait, slow down, how do you know that?”

  Alvir spread his arms and smiled. “Rat king, remember?”

  “I meant how you knew he would even think of doing that.” I glared.

  “That, my little apprentice, should be obvious.”

  “Stop playing games, does he know about you?”

  Alvir sighed and shook his head. “Unlikely. Though not impossible. No, more likely he thinks you're a mage in hiding. He’s traveled enough that he’s probably met with other elves, and your liberal use of mana to heal injuries and fatigue would only fool someone who hasn’t met an elf.”

  “What...but…I need to train,” I said.

  “For the end of the world? Compelling story, I have no idea how you managed to find that mage fable, but Ken is lapping it up like a dog. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so pathetic. But no matter! We have training, and an orb to absorb. Heh, that rhymed.”

  “Mage fable? I was serious.”

  “Sure, and I was born under Tarikol’s star,” Alvir scoffed.

  I scrunched my brow.

  “How do you know about him?”

  “I’ve got some culture in me,” Alvir chirpped. “Now come, I tire of this line of questioning and desire to bring you higher in the mages cadre.”

  I scowled, he was treating me like the villagers did back at home. Refusing to even consider the possibility that in the near future everything would come crumbling down. At least I knew that Ken was taking me seriously, that was more than a little gratifying, the healer was kind of cool in a mysterious fashion. It was definitely nothing so childish as being happy that someone believed me.

  Then again…did I need Alvir to believe me? Did I care if he was prepared for the End? Not really.

  I nodded and followed the man as he presented the lifecore like it was a sacred artifact.

  “This!” he said with performative flair, a dramatic pause to capitalize on my attention. “Is…not that notable.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Golem cores are generally okay, a nice boost to the body's tolerance if ground down and consumed. But when you get to my level, regular training kind of outpaces anything this can give me. For you though! That’ll maybe make you capable of using…hmmm…the fact draining all your mana with the strengthening spell way back when didn’t kill you probably means your body’s at least approaching the first circle, so half again as much as you normally tolerate?”

  “Hold on, the fuck do you mean first circle?” I said.

  “Doesn’t matter, let’s get to grinding this bad boy down!”

  “I feel like it definitely matters.”

  “Come back when you’re a first circle mage and maybe I’ll tell you,” Alvir intoned.

  I grumbled and walked over to the lifecore resting on Alvir’s jeweller table, he already had a mortar and pestle prepared, probably having seen the development with Loklan through one of his rats. Having no privacy was something I definitely wasn’t used to, and didn’t want to get used to, to be frank. It wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter though.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Alvir picked up the pestle and slammed the lifecore with a resounding bang, cracking it in half. Some small particles flew into the air, making him sneeze.

  “Bless you,” I said on instinct.

  He turned to look at me with a raised brow, then gave a soft smile. “Thanks.”

  I grumbled at him and his smile widened, but he chose not to tease me. Alvir started to hum as he broke down the fragments into smaller pieces, then ground those pieces into a deep blue dust. It almost felt sacrilegious to witness the destruction of something so beautiful, but half again my tolerance? That was more than worth it.

  Once Alvir finished he skipped over to where a funnel and bottle rested, the bottle was filled with water and the funnel was…a fucking funnel. Why did he have those? Did he buy them just for this?

  “Do you always have rats watching me?” I asked.

  Alvir nodded. “You should assume so, for very important reasons too, nothing frivolous!”

  “Like what?”

  “Like making sure the others from my coven don’t do something so stupid as to attack you,” he said with altogether too much joy.

  “So that Dollman…”

  “Was one of Seph’s, insipid bitch.”

  I shivered at the thought. “How many witches are in this city?”

  “With you included? About fifteen, only four of us worth noting though. Seph isn’t one of those, and I hold no love for the woman, so feel free to kill her!”

  “You’re being surprisingly informative today,” I said.

  He turned to me, and I was met with two boiling pots of rage that some might mistake for eyes. His everpresent smile was a little menacing. “I don’t take kindly to one of my own being targeted to try and get at me.”

  We stared at each other, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond to that.

  He took the silence as an end to that conversation and placed the funnel on top of the bottle and dumped the dust into the bottle. Once it all made its way through to the bottom he removes the funnel and corks the bottle. Then he shook it for a bit before handing it me.

  “A potion of mana tolerance! Congrats.”

  I looked at the bottle dubiously. “That seemed too easy.”

  “That’s the beauty of it, normally it requires a horrendous amount of prep work and esoteric ingredients for just a smidgen of what this thing can do. That’s why it’s so prized by mages of your level. Quick and easy! Problem is by the time a mage is strong enough to collect the thing, they’re strong enough where it wouldn’t matter. You should convince those hunter friends of yours to hunt more dollmen.” Alvir said.

  “I don’t think Loklan is rich enough to compensate for the loss,” I drawled.

  “Your loss,” Alvir shrugged. “Though it’d be preferable if you could pay for it instead, I don’t think I want the man to know that you actually have a magical sponsor. Hidden mages aren’t rare, but the stigma of them being witches is strong, and considering I am one…” He left that implication to hang precariously over the ledge of inevitability.

  “Wouldn’t paying for it myself be more suspicious though? Like where the fuck would I even get the gold for that?”

  “From me!” he smiled. “I make enough to buy a dozen of those each month in profits alone, courtesy of being such a prolific businessman."

  “I feel like you’re not thinking through this clearly, why would you give me that much coin if you weren’t some kind of magic sponsor?” I said

  Alvir shrugged. “Doesn’t really seem all that farfetched, your presence has increased business dramatically, what If I’m just generous?”

  “And that generosity surely has no strings attached.”

  “I like the way you think,” Alvir smiled. “Always so cynical, I don’t have to bother with making you realize how the world works. You know how much of a relief that is?”

  “So you’ve said, on multiple occasions.”

  “It’s because it’s such a blessing! Do you realize how naive kids your age are? Or how easy it is to take advantage of them for the fact? I have rats all over the city so I’m a constant witness to adults taking advantage of the young, it’s sad is what it is. Pathetic people using their petty power to rule over those weaker than them in a vain attempt to find meaning in their lives,” Alvir said.

  I raised a brow. “Aren’t you just the same?”

  “I rule over nothing but my rats,” Alvir scoffed. “Though next you’ll say that’s because if I were I’d be put under scrutiny and found out as a witch, which is just asinine. Only those far above me in power could look into my soul to confirm the demon resting there.”

  “I meant in the sense of taking advantage of children. What do you do to the kids that step into the sewers? I could’ve died the first time I went down.”

  Alvir waved that off. “That was a test, I don’t normally have my babies interact with people.”

  “So you knew I was a witch?” I said.

  Alvir just gave a mysterious smile but didn’t answer the question, and I let it go. The man seemed to have returned to his cryptic nonsense, most likely he was just lying to give a better impression of himself. Though I hadn’t heard of many deaths in the sewer…they did happen.

  “The others will be curious where I go on Tuesdays now,” I decided to pivot

  Alvir shrugged. “Not exactly a secret that you come here, so long as you don’t pay with my gold too frequently then we’re good. It actually makes me less suspicious to him, though his compatriots will draw their own conclusions.”

  “You assume that I’ll take you up on the offer,” I said.

  “Astute observation! Will you?”

  “No.”

  The man deflated and it was actually kind of sad, I might’ve felt bad if I wasn’t so weary of him. No need to rub salt in the wound though.

  “So…” I nodded to the potion. “Do I drink?”

  Alvir perked up. “Thought you’d never ask!”