Wizard Lord:I can Extract Anything

The synthetic beast core resembled an enlarged neuron, with thick blood vessels extending outward. When the beast was alive, these vessels transported copious amounts of blood throughout the body, delivering energy to every corner. Now, as the beast rapidly decayed, the core remained healthy and continued to pulse.

Richard examined the core, noting that the extending blood vessels had sealed, and the residual blood inside began a small internal circulation.

It felt less like an organ and more like a peculiar parasite.

"Decline."

Richard made his decision.

After fainting from his previous extraction attempt, he resolved to only extract in safe places in the future.

Besides, the synthetic beast core's creation was of no immediate use and could be extracted later without loss.

Within minutes, the dead beast had turned into a pile of bones. Richard rummaged through the muck, finding a staff wrapped in a bag.

"This must be the magical artifact prepared by the academy."

Richard picked up the staff, about half a meter long and weighing roughly a pound. It was jet black, topped with a crystal the size of a baby's fist. As Richard probed it with his mental power, an imprint left by the creator flashed in his mind.

[The staff is inscribed with a Lesser Fireball spell, with a recharge time of three minutes. It lacks a self-recharging circuit and consumes one-third of a standard magic stone per use.]

Richard marveled at the fascinating method of information transfer, something he had never experienced before.

"Lesser Fireball, consuming a third of a magic stone each use, with a recharge time," Richard mused, swinging the staff experimentally. "In this exam, its cost-effectiveness is lower than the ice spike ring."

The Lesser Fireball's power likely exceeded the ice spike's, but his opponents, aside from magical beasts, were mostly high-attack, low-defense types. The ice spike's minimal recharge time and low cost perfectly suited the situation.

Lesser Fireball felt like overkill against mosquitoes.

"Still, better to have it than not. I might encounter a beast later," Richard conceded, shaking his head at his own greed.

Stashing the synthetic beast core away, Richard cast a Silence spell on himself. Though it was midnight, the beast had made quite a commotion, possibly attracting scavengers.

Better safe than sorry.

Shortly after Richard left, a group of apprentices arrived at the beast's remains, hoping to scavenge.

"Too late, someone beat us to it."

"What now, all for nothing?"

The apprentices exchanged glances, turning to the bald leader for guidance.

The bald apprentice considered before deciding, but then a towering figure leapt from the woods.

Standing two meters tall, the figure wore chainmail and carried seven or eight bags at his waist, wielding a greatsword in one hand and dragging a barely conscious wizard apprentice in the other.

"No need to think. You all have to die here."

...

The next day, the sun rose as usual.

Richard emerged from a pile of dead leaves. Meditation had refreshed his mind as if he'd slept all night. While his spirit thrived, his body ached from a day of travel and a midnight chase.

But the journey had to continue.

Dragging his sore body, Richard resumed his trek. The beast's rampage had left more than magical artifacts; it had carved paths through the forest.

These paths were a boon to Richard, saving him considerable effort.

With the aid of Lighten, Richard covered half the distance on the second day.

As he neared the rendezvous point, the density of apprentices increased.

Most carried at least two or three bags. Upon meeting, aside from a few unstable ones, most simply displayed their crystal balls and moved on.

Those who survived halfway were no pushovers; their hands stained with blood. Few risked their lives without assured gains.

At night, Richard meditated among the dead leaves.

Though most in this area had met the exam's criteria, Richard couldn't shake the feeling of being followed during the day. This tension pricked at him, hindering his meditation.

Meanwhile, several meters away, a large figure with a dozen bags tied at his waist crouched in a tree, silently observing Richard's hideout.

"Followed him all day, and all he does is travel. Avoids people whenever possible. How did this coward kill that beast?"

He'd expected the beast's killer to be a knight, a formidable opponent. But after a day, Richard seemed no different from the others.

Could he be hiding his true strength?

...

Richard's meditation was abruptly interrupted by a sharp whistling sound, prompting him to duck instinctively.

A wooden spear, as thick as an arm, embedded itself beside him with a 'thud.'

The spear, over a meter long with a sharpened tip, quivered violently in the tree trunk.

An attack from a skilled opponent.

Richard's heart sank as he gripped the fireball staff from the previous day.

To hurl such a spear with wood required either powerful magical artifacts or a genius knight.

Richard hoped for the former, as the latter might possess both artifacts and knightly prowess.

"So you dodged. Seems you have some skill."

A voice called from nearby. Richard turned to see a towering figure wielding a greatsword, adorned with a dozen bags, emerge from the woods.

"A dozen bags. Looks like I've encountered a madman," Richard thought, tightening his grip on the staff. In an exam needing only one kill to pass, this man had slain over a dozen apprentices, displaying their bags as trophies.

Clearly, a strong, deranged individual.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Saban Chavez of the Norton Empire," the figure announced. "How should I address you?"

Under the moonlight filtering through the trees, Richard glimpsed the man. Red-haired, with slanted eyes and a high nose, a scar ran from his nose bridge to the corners of his eyes.

He bore the greatsword on his shoulder. Though his chainmail had many tears, his body was unscathed.

"An expert, likely a knight," Richard concluded.

"No answer?"

Receiving no response, Saban shrugged, then charged at Richard with his greatsword.

"Nameless foes should just die."

Richard watched coldly, a crimson glow flickering on the staff in his hand.

"Idiot, taste my fireball spell."