Chapter 109: Training on the Frontline (Extra Chapter)

“Boy, your words are quite strange. Someone’s kindly offering help on their own accord, so why would we refuse?” Flint’s face showed genuine puzzlement.

“Roger, don’t beat around the bush! Just be honest—who exactly is your friend?” Mayor Tindall snapped impatiently. “You haven’t brought back another lizardfolk, have you?”

“Heh heh… not this time,” Roger said sheepishly. “It’s… a greysack beast.”

Joan shot Roger a startled glance, worried that revealing Gray’s identity so soon might be premature. Would the mayor really tolerate a greysack beast staying in Derlin Town?

Jason Tindall and Flint Anvil exchanged a look and both furrowed their brows simultaneously.

“Lizardfolk I could understand, but a greysack beast… isn’t that a bit too dangerous?” Flint stroked his thick beard thoughtfully. “These low-intelligence monsters—can they even tell friend from foe? If it goes berserk, won’t it harm its own people?”

“Gray wouldn’t hurt his own, I promise!” Joan said firmly. Roger nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Mayor Tindall hesitated. The old dwarf, however, had come to a conclusion and smiled wryly. “Derlin Town is at a critical moment. More firepower is always good. A greysack beast may be dangerous, but is it worse than the ‘Child of the Demon’ Kotar? If we refuse to shelter it, and it runs off to the enemy, that’d be even worse!”

Those words struck a chord with Jason Tindall. He finally made up his mind and said solemnly to Joan and Roger, “Tell your greysack beast friend that he’s welcome to join our family. If he contributes his strength in the fight against the lizardfolk bandits and our home is preserved, after the war I will represent the town council in awarding him the title of ‘Honorary Citizen of Derlin Town,’ granting him permanent residence here.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful!” Roger cheered excitedly.

“Mr. Tindall, Mr. Flint, on behalf of Gray, I thank you for your generosity,” Joan said gratefully, bowing deeply to the mayor and the old dwarf.

At that moment, hurried footsteps approached from behind. Dick, sweating profusely, came running back, clutching two scrolls in his hands.

Jason Tindall took the scrolls and passed them to Joan, a smile of encouragement on his face.

After thanking him, Joan quickly examined the scrolls and couldn’t help but beam with delight.

Both arcane scrolls held tremendous tactical value: one was a “Level 1 Monster Summoning Spell,” the other an “Oily Grease Spell,” both first-tier spells he could learn immediately. Their arrival was perfectly timed.

Completely absorbed by these two scrolls, Joan didn’t want to waste a second. He bid farewell to Flint and the Tindall family, then hurried home to study the spells.

Sitting at his desk, excitement gradually gave way to a sobering realization. Copying both spells into his spellbook would take an entire morning. Even with relentless study, at least two days would be needed to begin mastering these two first-tier arcane spells. Yet the lizardfolk bandits might not grant him such luxury; with war looming, trying to learn both simultaneously was unwise. He had to choose one to prioritize and set aside the other for now.

It was a difficult decision.

Joan first picked up the “Level 1 Monster Summoning” scroll and glanced through it. This spell belonged to the evocation school and was the lowest-level summoning spell, allowing the caster to summon a low-rank monster obedient to their commands. The variety of summonable creatures was vast: a horse, a wolf, a dolphin, an eagle—land, sea, and air animals all included. Rarer magical beasts like ferocious rats, giant centipedes, and fire beetles could also be called forth. Each summoned creature had unique strengths, catering to different needs of the caster.

The versatility of summoning spells clearly offered flexible tactical advantages, seemingly fitting Joan’s current needs. But he was also keenly aware of its drawbacks. The summoned creatures were not real flesh and blood but manifestations of magical power, their duration tied to the caster’s level. As a level 2 mage (his mythic status notwithstanding), his summoned creatures could only last a brief two minutes before vanishing.

If the summoned creature were powerful enough, two minutes would be acceptable. But this was the lowest-level summoning spell, meaning the monsters would be weak. How much could a horse or wolf with a mere two minutes’ lifespan really contribute on the battlefield? Joan doubted it profoundly.

Shaking his head gently, Joan set aside the “Level 1 Monster Summoning” scroll and unrolled the “Oily Grease” scroll—in stark contrast, this spell was simpler and more practical.

“Oily Grease” was also a first-tier evocation spell. When cast, it created a large slick patch of slippery oil up to 100 square feet in area at a designated spot, lasting up to one minute before dissipating. Any creature stepping into the oily area would lose footing uncontrollably and, if unable to maintain balance, would fall hard or flail helplessly on the slick surface, unable to rise quickly.

Beyond creating slippery traps, “Oily Grease” could coat an object’s surface with oil, making it slippery and hard to grasp. For example, casting it on someone’s weapon might cause the weapon to slip from their hand. The spell required material components—nothing rare, just a small piece of pigskin or some butter.

Weighing “Level 1 Monster Summoning” against “Oily Grease,” Joan ultimately decided to prioritize learning “Oily Grease.”

Having made his choice, Joan dismissed all distractions and immersed himself wholly in the joy of spell study. He first copied “Oily Grease” from the scroll into his spellbook, then read it word by word. So absorbed was he that he lost track of his surroundings until a cold wind blew through the open window, causing him to sneeze twice. Looking up, he was startled to find night had fallen; the entire day had slipped away unnoticed.

He rose to close the window, fighting the rumbling hunger in his stomach as he sat back down at his desk to focus on his studies. Though his home was not lacking in food, and he certainly had time to eat, Joan deliberately kept himself hungry to maintain sharpness and discipline.