Wizard Starts Farming With Mini Skeletons
Chapter 114

Chapter 114: Chapter 114

In a dim, slightly run-down house, a man paced back and forth, clearly anxious. He moved restlessly, as though weighed down by thoughts too tangled to unravel. Every so often, he peeked out the window, his eyes sharp with unease.

"Will that incident happen again?" he muttered, his face clouded with worry.

His mind flashed back to the day a drunk, middle-aged man had entered a young man’s house... and never came back out.

"No... no, that won’t happen again. That guy’s seriously strong," he said aloud, trying to silence his own doubts.

The anxious man was none other than Equus. He hadn’t slept a wink since witnessing something that left him deeply unsettled.

While attempting to distract himself with anything else, he had spotted a suspicious figure approaching Clayton’s house. The sheer pressure radiating from the man—completely unrestrained—told Equus that he was no ordinary person.

A Six-Star Mage Apprentice.

Equus’s eyes went wide. Curiosity seized him, and he couldn’t look away. Still, he kept his senses partially closed off—just in case the stranger could detect him.

Moments later, faint sounds of chaos reached him from Clayton’s house. He didn’t know how to react. Part of him felt a twisted relief—maybe Clayton was finally in trouble. But another part whispered fearfully, What if that stranger doesn’t stop with Clayton? What if the conflict spreads—and reaches me?

Not wanting to misjudge the situation, Equus sharpened his hearing. Despite the rain and thunder, he concentrated hard and caught muffled sounds of battle.

Now he was truly torn. A part of him hoped for Clayton’s demise.

Even though their relationship had improved on the surface, Equus still felt uneasy living near someone who had once despised him. Just the thought made his skin crawl.

But if Clayton survived, Equus knew he would have to bury that resentment for good. These swirling thoughts left him pacing restlessly, trapped in his own emotional storm.

...

Meanwhile, in the shattered remains of the house, Clayton lay on the floor—bloodied, soaked, barely conscious.

"Shhh... Aargh!" he groaned, gritting his teeth against the searing pain.

With what little strength remained, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a healing potion, and poured it into his parched mouth. As the cool liquid slid down his throat, it spread a soothing energy through his body—like drinking the most refreshing water in the world.

Warmth blossomed inside him. His wounds began to close. Clayton sighed in relief, thinking he was finally stabilizing.

But then—his newly healed injuries tore open again.

His brow furrowed in disbelief. One by one, like dominoes, nearly every wound reopened, spilling blood anew. The pain returned with full force, ripping through him.

"ARGHHH!" he screamed, unable to hold it back.

For a while, all he could do was endure. His body shook. His teeth clenched. Sweat poured from his face. Yet amid the agony, he remained conscious enough to inspect his condition more closely.

That’s when he felt it: a foreign energy clinging to his wounds, actively rejecting the healing magic.

Upon closer inspection, he realized it was residual violent mana—left behind by the gambling boss’s brutal wind spells.

Is this kind of lingering damage normal among mid-tier mage apprentices? The thought flickered—but the pain drowned out any hope of reasoning.

Blood continued to pour out. He was weakening fast. If he didn’t stop it soon, he would bleed out.

Panic set in.

Desperately, Clayton tried everything—channeling his own mana, using water magic, applying different techniques—but nothing worked.

Despair crept in.

Then he remembered the Mid-Tier One-Star Pollution Scroll—the one that had helped him before. It was a long shot, but all he had left.

The moment he activated it, his consciousness was yanked into another realm—dark, cold, and disorienting. He couldn’t tell up from down, real from illusion.

He canceled the spell immediately, gasping for breath.

It didn’t work. Another dead end.

With no options left, he pulled out a Mid-Tier One-Star Purification Scroll.

Swoosh!

His body went cold—then gradually cooled, like walking into an air-conditioned room on a blistering day. The relief was so intense that he blacked out for a moment.

When he came to, he felt it: the violent mana had vanished. The scroll had neutralized the foreign energy.

Without hesitation, Clayton resumed the healing process.

After much effort, he finally purged every last trace of wind magic from his system.

When his mana recovered slightly, he dragged himself over to the gambling boss’s corpse. There, he found a bottle of green liquid—an extremely rare and potent healing potion.

After confirming what it was, he drank it without hesitation. A warm, invigorating energy spread through him—stronger and deeper than before.

"Ahhh~" he sighed involuntarily, overwhelmed by the potion’s restorative power.

His wounds closed rapidly. Color returned to his face. In just thirty minutes, he was significantly better.

Clayton sat up slowly. Still weak, but alive—and victorious.

He allowed himself a small smile, thinking back on the battle. When the gambling boss first arrived, he’d been terrified. But he stayed calm, calculated, and waited for an opening. When direct combat failed, he used the Pollution Scroll to confuse and disorient his opponent.

It worked. The hallucinations caused by the dark energy had tricked the boss into attacking an illusion—and now, Clayton had survived a crisis that could’ve ended his life.

This experience strengthened his resolve to grow stronger and master even more spells and tactics. He now saw the value in having a wide arsenal of skills and tools.

And to his surprise, the boss had been wealthy. Inside his spatial pouch was a full set of scroll-making and alchemy tools. Though protected by runes and magical arrays, Clayton wasn’t worried.

Thanks to the memories he had absorbed over the past two days, he knew exactly how to unlock it.

But one thought still haunted him: Bravus.

That cursed man was still imprisoned at the boss’s base—and he knew everything. If the boss went missing, Bravus would definitely grow suspicious.

Clayton clenched his jaw. There was only one solution.

He had to deal with Bravus. Permanently.

After resting for half an hour, Clayton forced himself up and began walking toward the boss’s base, despite his incomplete recovery.

And from a distance, a pair of wide, stunned eyes silently watched him go—filled with disbelief.