Wizard: My Skills Can Infinitely Break Through

Hank, his face expressionless, retrieved a Small Wooden Tube carved with an Isolation Rune. Inside were over a dozen specially made Bone Sticks.

The Bone Sticks came in two colors. Most were grayish-white, signifying "stay behind," while only four were dark red, for "reconnaissance."

Two reconnaissance teams were needed, each led by two High Level Apprentices. Besides the two Wizards present, there were eighteen people.

Hank placed the tube of sticks on the table, and the drawing officially began.

"Wait. Copperbeard, Anvil, and Ian Marcus—the three of you are exempt from the drawing."

Copperbeard seemed quite pleased with this arrangement, muttering, "Finally, someone who gets it."

Anvil simply gave a silent nod.

Sterling’s voice made the tightly wound string in Ian’s heart finally slacken.

He did as he was told, taking a step back with Copperbeard and Anvil.

No one objected. The three of them were far more useful garrisoning the camp than they would be on the battlefield.

If even special talents were being pushed onto the front lines to face life and death, it meant the situation had become truly unsalvageable.

Just as he understood the rules of War, core technical personnel in the logistics chain—Magic Potion Alchemists, Rune Masters, Alchemists, and the like—did indeed enjoy a certain degree of protection in non-extreme situations.

His sliver of hope had become reality, but what followed wasn’t relief, but a deeper, more profound sense of oppression.

The "Furnace" camp was a logistics base and should have been relatively safe, but the collapse of the front lines had thrust it into the eye of the storm.

Even special technical personnel were now indirectly facing life-or-death choices.

’This battlefield... it truly makes no sense.’

The drawing began, the atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife.

As the team leader, Hank went first. With a wooden expression, he drew a stick... grayish-white.

Lina followed right after, also drawing a grayish-white one.

Poison Fang gritted his teeth as he drew. His expression faltered the moment he saw it, but he quickly composed himself... Dark red!

He cursed under his breath and moved to the side designated for "reconnaissance."

"Scarface" was lucky and drew a grayish-white stick. The hand of the companion next to him was trembling slightly, but he still drew a dark red one. His face instantly turned deathly pale.

One of Eleanor’s Guards also drew a dark red stick.

Soon, the four "unlucky ones" were determined: Poison Fang; an Apprentice under Scarface named "Gray Rat"; Eleanor’s Guard, Rex; and a High Level Apprentice from the "Furnace" camp.

The last person’s name was Leon Osborne, the only High Level Apprentice from the Osborne Clan in this camp.

Ian’s heart skipped a beat, and he cast an imperceptible glance in his direction.

The intelligence Kenna had brought back surfaced in his mind, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Leon seemed to sense Ian’s gaze and turned his head, giving him a friendly nod.

Ian, his face impassive, returned the nod slightly before turning to look at the other three "lucky ones" in the room.

Sterling looked at the four of them and said in a grave voice:

"The four of you. Poison Fang and Rex, you two will be a team. Hank will assign your operational area and provide intelligence support.

The other team, Gray Rat and Leon, you will elect a temporary leader yourselves.

The mission objective is to scout for and, if the opportunity arises, ambush the infiltration squads of ’Blood Bat’ and ’Shadow Stab’ to delay their assembly and reconnaissance progress.

Annihilation is not required. The main goals are harassment and intelligence gathering.

Remember, your lives are more important than killing the enemy. If you encounter a force you cannot defeat, I authorize you to retreat to camp.

Contribution Points for this mission will be doubled. Afterward, you will have half a month of rest and recuperation."

The four men had varied expressions: some were grim, some were terrified, and others forced a calm facade.

The meeting ended in a heavy atmosphere. Those who had drawn the red sticks went to make their preparations, while the others dispersed, their minds heavy with worry.

Night had already fallen by the time Ian walked back to his Alchemy Room.

The camp had expanded, and the atmosphere was a bit more lively, but the tension hadn’t subsided. On the contrary, it had grown more strange and unsettling due to the newcomers’ panic and the fear of the unknown.

His keen Perception picked up on a faint, almost imperceptible gaze that occasionally fell on him ever since the meeting ended.

The gaze wasn’t sharp; it felt more like a cold, scrutinizing probe.

It came from shadowy corners or the gaps between people, vanishing in an instant.

’An illusion? Or...’ Alarms blared in Ian’s mind.

He had always kept a low profile in the camp and hadn’t made any enemies. There shouldn’t be anyone intentionally spying on him.

’The Osborne Clan? Is it you?’

The Osborne bloodline family—the clan that had an unclear connection to Nolan—had been investigating the truth behind his disappearance.

Nolan had died at his hands. Although he had cleaned up the scene thoroughly, there’s no such thing as a perfect crime.

’Could someone from this clan have already investigated my past and taken notice?’

Killing intent began to rise in Ian’s heart. His history since transmigrating was somewhat abnormal. Anyone who investigated him carefully would discover discrepancies.

He remained outwardly calm, maintaining his usual pace and demeanor, even nodding to a few Apprentices he passed on the way.

After returning to the Alchemy Room, he didn’t light any lamps, instead standing silently in the shadows just inside the door.

A High Level Apprentice’s resilient Spiritual Power, combined with the Perception of his "Eye of Vigilance," was pushed to its absolute limit.

Like an invisible spiderweb, it silently spread out beyond the door.

A moment later, in the shadowy corner diagonally across from the Alchemy Room where miscellaneous items were piled up, he precisely captured an extremely faint fluctuation of breathing and heartbeat, one that almost perfectly blended into the surroundings.

The person’s Concealment technique was brilliant, enough to fool the Perception of an ordinary High Level Apprentice.

But Ian’s Spiritual Power had been refined through several Skill Limit-Breaks, and its density had long since surpassed that of a typical High Level Apprentice.

He had also just broken through again not long ago, causing the total amount of his Spiritual Power to surge once more. It was easy for him to spot the subtle flaw.

’Someone is there, after all.’ Ian’s eyes grew cold.

He didn’t alert his target. Instead, just as he always did, he began preparing the materials needed for tomorrow’s Alchemy.

His "Spiritualized" Wizard’s Hand worked silently, making the same extremely faint noises as it usually did.

At the same time, he split off a sliver of his consciousness to "listen" and "feel" that aura through the faint obstruction of the wall and the clutter.

The aura was hidden and obscure, carrying a faint, earthy smell.

It was completely different from the fiery, weary, or wary auras of most Apprentices in the camp.

More importantly, within its Energy fluctuations, Ian faintly perceived an extremely familiar bloodline ripple.

’The aura of a Rock Armor Demon Bear!’

Ian was all too familiar with this aura. He had come into contact with it countless times while practicing the Bloodline Purification Technique.

For a few days after he had taken the Rock Bear Potion, he had carried this same faint, earthy smell, but it had slowly been expelled from his body and became undetectable afterward.

’Why didn’t I smell this on Leon before? Did he not follow his clan’s bloodline path?’

His Spiritual Power perceived that, unlike his own deeply hidden and almost nonexistent aura, the other person’s Rock Bear traits were much more overt.

’Looks like it is this family after all,’ Ian thought, his mind racing.

The fact that they were lurking and spying instead of attacking directly meant they were either uncertain or waiting for the right moment.

Remembering the curse Nolan had laid upon him before dying, Ian’s eyes gradually darkened.

’Daring to come sniffing at my door... they’re really courting death!’