Chapter 605 - 40: King of Wizards

Chapter 605: Chapter 40: King of Wizards

The Empire gave them status, resources, and opportunity.

But what did they do?

They took it all for granted, resting on the laurels of their Imperial citizenship without any ambition, just coasting through life and waiting to die.

Then, when the Outer Plane People—who were ten times more hardworking and ten times more talented—finally struggled their way up to the same positions...

They became furious.

They were filled with resentment.

They began to resent the Outer Plane People who "stole their jobs."

But they never stopped to think, ’Why can others do it, but we can’t?’

In Alonso’s view, with Pittman’s paltry power as a mere Third-Class Wizard Apprentice, he wouldn’t even be qualified to stand guard at the gates of the Silver Tower if not for his status as an Imperial.

Let alone hold the position of supervisor.

That was just a fantasy.

It was precisely because the Empire fostered so many lazy and intellectually mediocre talents that the King of Wizards had no choice but to develop a policy of recruiting talent from the Outer Planes.

That was why Alonso strongly supported the King of Wizards.

Without this policy, he would never have had the chance to come to the New Realm.

Without this policy, he might still be in the Old Realm, continuing his life as that high and mighty genius Wizard who could command the elements.

Of course, life in the New Realm had turned out to be far more difficult than he had imagined.

But Alonso never regretted it.

Because he knew the Old Realm was just a small pond.

And the New Realm was a vast ocean.

Only here could he truly realize his ambitions.

If only... if only he could obtain Imperial citizenship.

Alonso’s gaze passed over Pittman and fell upon the two figures standing before the lift.

If he had Imperial status, just like Pittman, then with his diligence and his talent, he would have soared to the top long ago.

He would have long since become one of the guests surrounding them.

Or even higher.

This was why Alonso craved Imperial status all the more.

It was the one thing he had obsessed over day and night, the thing he had dreamed of for the past thirty years.

And today, he looked toward the young man in the long black robe.

The young man who, like him, was from the Old Realm.

This was perhaps the closest he had ever been to obtaining that status.

It looked like this situation could no longer be resolved peacefully.

Pittman had completely lost control. The waiters were watching menacingly, and the surrounding guests were all enjoying the show.

If things played out as expected, he would be thrown out, taken away by the City Guard, fined, imprisoned, and then sink even deeper into despair.

But Alonso was never one to follow the script.

Otherwise, he would not have been the first person to tear back the veil of the Church Court all those years ago.

Otherwise, he would not have been the one to personally open the passage through the Blackstone Mountains.

People like him were born with a knack for finding opportunities in desperate situations.

’Since this can’t end amicably, I’ll just have to make it a bigger scene.’

’A scene so big that the distinguished guest from the Old Realm would have no choice but to notice him.’

This was how a Wizard of his exceptional talent operated: with multiple plans for any given situation.

Unlike a good-for-nothing like Pittman, who would stubbornly follow a single path to its bitter end.

The smile on Alonso’s face did not waver.

But his eyes had changed.

They grew brighter, sharper, filled with something that made it impossible to meet his gaze directly.

"Are you done?"

His voice was calm, yet it carried a strange, Piercing quality.

Pittman froze.

He had been on a roll, reveling in the thrill of his tirade, only to be cut short by Alonso’s three understated words.

"Wh-what did you say?"

Alonso didn’t repeat himself.

He simply watched Pittman in silence, his eyes holding a look that made Pittman inexplicably anxious.

It wasn’t anger.

It wasn’t fear.

It was pity.

The kind of pity one has for a contemptible buffoon.

Pittman’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red.

"You fucking—"

Before he could finish, another voice cut him off.

"What’s going on over there?"

A cool, clear voice drifted over from the direction of the lift.

Pittman’s body went rigid.

He turned his head mechanically toward the source of the voice.

Cheris was standing before the lift, her head tilted, watching the scene with clear amusement.

Her gaze wasn’t on Pittman.

It was on Alonso.

The young man in the long black robe had also turned his head slightly.

His pitch-black eyes were calmly observing the scene.

A loud BUZZ went off in Pittman’s head.

’It’s over.’

’The distinguished guests have been disturbed.’