A Hospital in Another World?

Chapter 192

Chapter 192

As you stroll through the Tower of Heaven’s exhibition, mages behind magical arrays eye you.

After the Magic Council’s day trip concludes, trainees ride the small train down the mountain. As the latest records from the observation room, along with the trainees’ data, are sent up, chaos erupts in the Tower of Heaven.

Archmages compare stacks of meticulously reviewed data, slam tables adorned with grids of checkmarks and crosses, toss quills, and hurl ink bottles. If it weren’t for the anti-magic array in the meeting room, they might have even thrown fireballs and nauseating rainbow bursts at each other on the spot.

All these promising talents! In such a vast country, with only one selected from each county, they’re truly the cream of the crop!

After being taught together for so long, receiving lessons from archmages above level 10 and having their papers personally graded by mages who are the backbone of the council if they are above level 5, everything from research directions, paper topics, exchanged magical studies, to records of the training camp is meticulously noted. The academy’s leaders silently evaluate their learning abilities, imagination, creativity, self-control, temperament, and character. Now that graduation season has finally arrived, they can’t afford to miss the chance to recruit the best talents!

"Kristin... seventeen years old, three papers, one B-, two Bs. Two of the papers are in the direction of curses, perfect for us, the ’Weavers of Curses’."

"Corinne Franz... eighteen years old, advanced to a level two mage last month. One A-, one B+, one B. Three papers: one in the protective arts, one in curses, and one in transmutation. She has exchanged three first-level spells: minor deflection field, spiritual armor, and summoning spell materials. We, the ’Shield of Fortitude,’ are interested in her because of her focus on the protective arts."

"Don’t be so hasty! We’re interested in her too. Otherwise, shall we offer Livia to you?"

"Victor Muller... eighteen years old, just advanced to a level two mage last week. One A-, one B+. We, the ’Thundering Horns,’ are interested in him!"

"Hey, hold on! His A- paper is in illusion magic, which should rightfully belong to us, the ’Gates of Illusion’! Thundering Horns, you can’t just snatch anyone you fancy!"

"But his mentor is from the school of elemental manipulation!"

"What mentor? Since when does being the head mage of the Tower count as being a mentor?"

Bam, clang, crash. Ink splatters, and scraps of paper fill the air. In a corner of the long table, a female mage from the charm school whispers to her friend:

"These two are equally appealing to both our families... one for you, one for me?"

"Wait for me to do a divination first!"

The divination mage begins removing her jewelry: two pairs of pearl earrings, followed by a crystal necklace, then a turquoise bracelet... a piece of aquamarine ring, an opal ring, a tiger’s eye ring... The charm mage gazes in awe:

"Why do you have more trinkets than I do?"

"Of course! You wear those two pieces to entice a few people, while I wear these for divination purposes!"

...

The conference room is filled with persuasion, argument, and negotiation. In reality, there aren’t many worth arguing over. With sixty or seventy people in this training camp, less than ten will be directly recruited by the archmages. The rest are being pulled for their respective organizations, swapping one for another, so there isn’t much of an issue.

As the arguments continue, the student files on the table decrease one by one. Two hours later, only one remains:

Garrett Nordmark, wanted by everyone.

"I’ll leave first." The charm mage is the first to rise, her skirts swaying, ornaments jingling. With a seductive red mark adorning her raised brow, she takes a few graceful steps before looking back in surprise:

"Your family wants him too?"

"Of course!" The starlight mage raises a rouge-coated lip, leisurely putting her jewelry back on. Bracelets, necklaces, earrings, rings...

The pile of jewels and treasures is neatly arranged. Finally, all that remains in everyone’s eyes is a deep purple chiffon, concealing the charm mage’s indifferent gaze.

Who wouldn’t want him? A level one mage who can cast "Dragon’s Breath"!

In the past ten years, there have been a few, ever since the establishment of the Magic Council. Apart from those who died young due to recklessness, there have been several who could cast "Dragon’s Breath" below level five, each one a future archmage!

With a bit of luck, he might become a legend!

"Do you, the divination school, also want him?"

The mage from the transmutation school is surprised. After all, that old man, Meinlan, begged and pleaded, promised a pair of diamond golems just to get Garrett. Even though the kid doesn’t fancy transmutation, he’ll have to work hard for the reward.

Now is the perfect opportunity to speak up. The archmage’s slender fingers roll a cube, sometimes pulling out a strip, sometimes forming a rectangle, constantly changing. He focuses, only sparing a glance at the charm mage:

"Are you sure he’ll come to you? He didn’t seem very interested when we were at the Celestial Dome before..."

"But his first paper is a modification of **Detection Magic**." The female mage showed no weakness, lifting her veil to reveal a pair of sharp black and white eyes, confidently responding, "His most recent paper, although on soundwave magic, fundamentally serves environmental detection. Isn’t this kind of mage who enjoys detection perfect for our **Divination school**?"

"Divination school? Forget it." The **Weavers of Curses** duty mage sneered, "Your divination school relies too much on innate talent, not just any ordinary mental aptitude, but those ethereal, nonsensical types. Those with talent advance rapidly, but those without struggle to even pass level five in their lifetime. Dragging him into the **Divination school**, are you sure you’re not wasting a good seed?"

The female mage choked. Ascending is indeed always a pain for the **Divination school**—not only is it difficult, but peeking into the river of time is also particularly prone to harming one’s body and shortening one’s lifespan. Seeing her spirit dampen, the **Curses school** archmage tapped the table, leisurely continuing, "Furthermore, that child is a healer. If he’s into healing, he wouldn’t go to the medical branch of our **Curses school**, would he? He’d go to the Black Crow Swamp?"

"What’s wrong with the Black Crow Swamp!" The **Necromancer** slammed the table, "That child is a natural necromancer! Have you seen him treat patients? He never casts Healing Spells with his eyes closed. Each time, he’s like, ’Where’s the illness? Let’s open it up and take a look, if it’s treatable, treat it; if not, cut it off!’ With this kind of treatment, what can your medical branch teach him? What can you teach him!"

"But he’s interested in our **Curses school**!"

"He’s also interested in the **Necromancy faction**! Just now, underground, I bet if we opened the glass wall, he’d dissect corpses all night in there! What can your **Curses school** give him? Here, at least there’s an abundance of corpses, let him dissect as many as he likes!"

"If we’re talking about interests, I think his interest in the **School of Elemental Manipulation** is the greatest." The **Thundering Horns** archmage interjected slowly, after watching the spectacle for a while.

"Shut up!"

"Shut up!"

The mages from the Black Crow Swamp and the Weavers of Curses spoke in unison, turning to him. The **Thundering Horns** archmage’s eyes narrowed, rising from his seat, glaring angrily at both.

**Elemental Mages** generally have strong individual combat abilities. Fighting two against one isn’t something to be feared at all—especially since the **Necromancy faction**, besides fearing holy light, also fears the specialization of Elemental Mages in thunder and fire...

The air crackled, almost sparking, even with a high-caliber anti-magic field pressing down on it.

"...let’s stop quarreling." The **Shield of Fortitude**, the archmage of the protective arts, a white-haired old man with a round face, smiled cheerfully. As the host of this meeting, he calmly intervened after watching the drama unfold, "Indeed, such talent is rare, and nobody wants to let go, I understand that. How about this, let’s report the situation and let the gentlemen from the review committee decide?"

"..."

"..."

"And, nobody is allowed to negotiate with him first!"

"Agreed! No sneaking away!"

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