CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER 44

Clayton’s eyes sparkled as he watched the crimson-colored plant grow—so rapidly that its movement was visible to the naked eye.

It continued rising until it reached his knees, then stopped, trembling violently as if something was happening within.

Clayton immediately panicked, fearing something had gone wrong.

Using his Entry, he discovered that the plant was supposed to grow even further, but it lacked something essential.

He examined it closely. At first, nothing stood out—until he caught a faint metallic scent and saw reddish stains on the stem. A memory clicked.

Without hesitation, Clayton retrieved a vial of diluted arowana blood and poured it over the plant.

Sure enough, moments later, the trembling ceased and the plant resumed its vertical growth.

Clayton exhaled in relief—but the calm didn’t last. Soon, the plant trembled again, repeating the same symptoms.

This time, already knowing the cause, Clayton quickly brought out some boar’s blood and fed it to the plant.

It began growing once more, its form changing from a mere sprout to a vivid, fiery-red magical grass. This time, perhaps because of the stronger concentration of blood, there was no further stagnation.

Satisfied, Clayton nodded to himself. He couldn’t help but marvel at the power of his Entry.

Not long ago, he had taken a gamble in the market and won twice in a row. Many had witnessed his lucky streak and were impressed.

But on his third attempt, all he got was a lump of black soil—apparently worthless. Disappointed murmurs spread through the crowd. For many mages, watching someone else hit the jackpot was a rare form of amusement amid their stressful, spell-filled lives.

In truth, however, that so-called failure had been a misunderstanding.

Clayton had never truly lost. All three of his bets were wins—including the last one.

That black clump everyone dismissed was actually a hardened piece of Terra Preta—a low-grade, one-star magical soil rich in nutrients. Highly valued by magical farmers, it could greatly enhance plant growth when used properly.

Unfortunately, its plain appearance made it nearly indistinguishable from ordinary soil. Very few could recognize its true value.

Luckily, Clayton had his cheat-like Entry to uncover its secret.

Otherwise, why would he have gone to the trouble of packing it so carefully instead of discarding it?

Even Clayton had been skeptical at first. But now, seeing the results before him, all doubts had vanished.

The plant continued to grow after absorbing the nutrients from the Terra Preta and the boar’s blood. It stopped only when it reached eye level with Clayton.

He leaned in to inspect it and eventually identified its features.

It was blood sorghum—a magical plant especially useful for a Knight trainees like himself.

A smile tugged at his lips as he began tending to it. Judging by its condition, it would likely reach full maturity in just a few months.

Not only had it grown faster than usual, but the quality was far superior—even though the seed he planted had nearly lost all vitality.

Clayton was in awe of the soil’s magic.

"No wonder so many farmers are desperate to get their hands on this stuff... It’s incredible," he murmured in amazement.

He continued tending to the plant, occasionally smiling with satisfaction.

But just as he was getting comfortable, a commotion outside broke the quiet.

At first, the noise was faint—too distant to make out clearly. He ignored it. But the volume steadily grew until it was impossible to disregard.

Clayton wasn’t one to meddle in other people’s business, but curiosity got the better of him.

"What’s going on out there?" he muttered, stepping outside.

Outside, a group of tenant farmers were locked in a heated argument. Nearly everyone in the area seemed involved.

"What do you mean I can’t join the hunt?!" Bravus shouted furiously.

Arthur, standing calmly before him, replied, "I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just that our values no longer align. We can’t work together during hunts."

Bravus gritted his teeth. "Is this because I was arrested by the city? You think I’ll bring bad luck?!"

Arthur remained composed. "That’s not it. I just don’t think we’re compatible anymore."

"Tch! Hypocrite! You expect me to believe that? Someone like you, pretending to be noble and righteous, turns cold and ruthless the moment someone becomes inconvenient. If it weren’t for my perfume, would your harvest have been that good? If not for me, you wouldn’t have hunted so easily! You ungrateful bastard!" Bravus raged hysterically.

Arthur frowned. He had hoped to part ways quietly, even if it meant cutting Bravus from the group. But the man’s words were too much.

"Watch your mouth, Bravus. Don’t make this worse," Arthur said, his tone sharp.

Bravus sneered. "Uncomfortable? That’s your problem! You think being leader means you can do whatever you want?"

Arthur sighed. His decision was final—Bravus would no longer be part of the team.

But Bravus wasn’t done yet.

"Where do you think you’re going?! Leaving just like that after causing all this?!"

Arthur snapped, "What do you want, Bravus?!"

"I’m demanding what’s rightfully mine! I helped hunt, I contributed! From now on, I’ll lead this group! And you should apologize to me!"

Arthur had had enough. "Absolutely not, Bravus. Don’t be ridiculous."

Bravus hesitated, remembering Arthur was a three-star apprentice mage. But that hesitation quickly turned to arrogance.

"What? Scared? Go ahead, kill me if you dare!" he spat.

Arthur clenched his fists. Bravus was baiting him—and acting recklessly in the city could bring serious consequences from the authorities.

Arthur didn’t respond, which only emboldened Bravus.

"What’s the matter? Your silence means you agree with me, doesn’t it?" he taunted.

"No way!" Arthur shot back.

Bravus’s face turned red with rage.

Arthur decided to end it. "Listen closely, Bravus. You’re no longer welcome in our group. The city may have released you, but we haven’t forgotten what you did. I won’t let you put everyone in danger again."

Bravus growled, "Fine! I don’t need your lousy group anyway!"

Arthur let out a sigh of relief—but it was premature. Bravus wasn’t done.

"But listen well! That harvest you’re so proud of? That was thanks to me! Without me, you’d have nothing! So I’m officially resigning from your group! Anyone who wants real success, come with me! I’ll form a new hunting party—stronger and richer!"

A heavy silence fell over the crowd. People began whispering among themselves.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. Bravus was being shrewd—he hadn’t expected such a strategic move.

Bravus scanned the crowd, smug and confident, convinced he was born to lead.

At first, no one joined him.

Panic crept into Bravus’s face. He feared he might become a laughingstock. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, "Anyone who joins me gets an equal share of the harvest! You all know how powerful my perfume is! Without me, Arthur’s group won’t get any more big hauls!"

Some hesitated. Then, one by one, more began to waver—until the group was nearly split in half.

Arthur was stunned. He had expected a few to defect for profit—but not this many.

Bravus was elated. His arrogance returned full force.

"Hehehe... Arthur, I hope you regret casting me out!"

With smugness in every step, Bravus turned to leave—followed by a crowd of opportunistic farmers.

As he passed by, he deliberately bumped shoulders with Clayton.

Thud!

Clayton stared at him, eyes dark with irritation. But Bravus only chuckled and asked arrogantly, "What’s the matter? Not satisfied?"