CHAPTER 42: COUNT RAYNOLD DODSON

A long table with intricate golden designs stretched across the room, with a chandelier hanging above. Seated across from each other were Professor Odel and Professor Linda.

Vice President Odel stood up and shouted angrily, "Explain yourself, Professor Linda! I asked Yin Farrock about the contract for the Cure of the Rose of Death, and he told me it was already finalized by you!"

Tears welled up in Professor Linda’s eyes as she replied, "I’m sorry, Vice President. I made a mistake."

He snapped, "We’re all proud of the breakthrough in alchemy, but you made a terrible deal with a student. Giving away twenty-five percent of the revenue while we provide the facilities is unacceptable."

Odel thought to himself, "I can’t even fire her. Her knowledge in alchemy is too valuable for the academy’s progress"

He continued, "As punishment for your poor decision, I’m cutting your salary in half. You’ll also take on extra teaching duties, including classes for the freshmen."

Then he added coldly, "If you resign, the Magic Tower will charge you for financial loss and fraud."

Professor Linda had no choice but to accept the harsh punishment. She had feared worse, so this outcome felt like a small relief.

He added sharply, "Get out of my sight and reflect on your actions."

Professor Odel leaned back in his chair, deep in thought, " Based on Yin’s account, the contract was sealed before the patient was cured. It sounds more like a bet—one that Professor Linda accepted, relying on her alchemy expertise. There was no known cure for the disease at the time. Honestly, even I might have fallen into the same trap.

But something doesn’t sit right. I’m suspicious whether Yin is truly the creator of the cure. He hasn’t participated in any scientific discussions about it. He doesn’t have an alchemy background either. Time will tell if the truth comes out."

One by one, the long table filled with important figures from the East—mostly politicians and merchants. As they took their seats, there was no need for decorum or introductions. It was clear they all knew each other well enough that formalities were unnecessary.

A man in his mid-forties, with a sharp grey handlebar mustache, stood out among them. He wore a long, ink-stained tunic of faded blue beneath a deep charcoal-gray cloak. His name was Toreto Denver, the most powerful journalist in the East. Capable of spreading news across the entire region with a single publication.

THWAP!

He slammed a folded newspaper onto the table.

"What’s the meaning of this, Sir Odel?" he demanded.

Professor Odel glanced at the paper and replied calmly, "That’s exactly what happened. An unrated student managed to draw a chess game against me."

A man standing beside Toreto leaned forward and said, "No, you nearly lost. If that kid had played the rook check instead of sacrificing the bishop, the game would’ve been over. Based on the move sequence, you played like the grandmaster you are but that knight sacrifice? That was a novelty. A hyper-aggressive tactic to launch an attack. A move no one would’ve dared to consider."

Professor Odel’s thoughts stirred. Levian Rose... The news has reached the chess grandmasters across the La Magia Kingdom. They’re taking interest in Gabby Magus. This chess enthusiast must’ve analyzed our game. He’s here to scout my student.

"He’s still young," Odel said aloud, "but he has a lot of potential."

Levian stepped forward, his voice firm. "We’re willing to trade ten promising, ascended heroes and gold compensation of your choosing. For the boy who nearly beat you."

As if sharing the same thought, both Odel and Levian reflected silently "The West is ready to invest in the boy. To shape him into a tactical, strategic, and positional genius. Not just in chess but on the battlefield."

Professor Odel replied firmly, "We will carefully consider your offer."

Levian leaned forward, pressing the matter. "We also suggest that the boy be offered to the Rites of the Four Gods."

He thought to himself, "If he ascends as a regular non-hero, his value will drop. But if he ascends as a hero, his worth will skyrocket. And if he doesn’t ascend at all then he’s nothing. Just trash with no future.

Professor Odel’s voice remained steady. "Our academy has long followed a tradition of treating all students equally, regardless of talent. We will not change that for one student. The Rites of the Four Gods are only performed when a student chooses a religion and achieves something worthy in the eyes of the divine—not for something as trivial as drawing me in a chess match."

At that moment, a man who had remained silent until now stepped forward. He wore a long black velvet coat, soft and rich in texture, with silver embroidery shaped like birds in flight. A deep red cloak lined with fur flowed behind him, fastened at the shoulder with a silver brooch.

His presence was commanding. He was tall, with a strong build and graceful posture. His face was sharp and noble—square jaw, high cheekbones, and smooth, fair skin. His cool gray eyes held a quiet intensity.

With a deep, piercing voice, he finally spoke, "What about the Saint Alchemist—Yin Farrock?"

This was Count Raynold Dodson of the Western County.

They say this man—Count Raynold Dodson of Okstin—can rival even Duke Ashby of the South when it comes to military might. With an army of nearly eighty thousand knights. His banners fly not only across his own county, but also in the lands of neighboring territories, counties and even kingdoms that respect, or fear, his influence. His connections run deep. Nobles, merchants, and military leaders alike owe him favors or fear his reach.

After all he is an Ascended Hero and the West Strongest Sword.

All the merchants and politicians in the room leaned forward, their curiosity piqued at the mention of Yin Farrock.

"He’s a freshman," one of the merchants whispered, "and yet he discovered the cure for the Rose of Death."

A hush fell over the room. The name alone carried weight. The Rose of Death wasn’t just a disease. It was a harbinger, a sign that the Second Apocalypse was drawing near. If that prophecy proved true, the demand for the cure would surge beyond imagination.

Professor Odel stood calmly, he said, "If any of you wish to invest. We will welcome it with open arms."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, "We can begin the bidding."