Sorcerer: I Want To Be An Academic Prodigy
/ Sorcerer: I want to be an Academic Prodigy Chapter 1 – Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Poisoned
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Poisoned
Aromatic Wheat Dukedom, Flying Fish Port.
In a side house of a residence in East City District.
“Eh?”
On the wooden bed, the young Ivan slowly sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He looked around blankly, then at himself; everything felt familiar yet strange.
Where is this?
Why can I move?
With those questions in mind, numerous pieces of information naturally surfaced in his brain: his name was ‘Ivan Marichardon,' he was thirteen and a half years old, lived in the East City District of Flying Fish Port, and was a knight's page boy.
He was even more bewildered – the sick, paralyzed him had somehow come to another world and become someone else.
“Thump-thump-thump—”
The abnormal heartbeat brought his thoughts back to reality; it was a warning from his body.
He realized that this body wasn't healthy either. In addition to the too-fast, too-heavy heartbeat, there was a large swelling on his left arm. The skin on the swelling was purplish-brown, resembling a blockage of congealed blood, with a tiny black hole in the center and blue veins around it like fearsome earthworms.
Damn it! The swelling was even larger than a fist.
There must be two more swellings on his back, where he felt numbness and stiffness.
“Could it have been the bite of some insect?”
His face was very pale, at that moment, some unpleasant images surged into his mind.
He went on an adventure with two friends, in a cave at the base of a cliff by the sea, they found a dilapidated ship and searched for the sunken treasure. But they disturbed a swarm of large, unknown flying insects that looked like water spiders or oversized mosquitoes, buzzing and diving straight at the three of them.
The three of them ran desperately to escape, with Ivan in the lead. As he neared the exit, someone pulled him back forcefully. He lost his balance and the other two took the opportunity to run ahead, one of them quickly closing the door behind them, trapping him inside.
In the chaos, he couldn't open the door. Fortunately, the ship was broken down, and he managed to jump into the water and escape by swimming ashore, reaching home in a daze.
And then, he fell into a deep sleep.
“Damn, Rosyth and those two swordsmen, just you wait.”
His predecessor had died such a heedless death, and now he felt as if he were in his shoes. He cursed angrily, determined to make those two pay.
“Hiss—it's almost numb.”
Ivan stopped his chaotic thoughts, changed his clothes, took a few silver coins, and hurriedly left the house.
Having been granted a second life, with a functioning body, he couldn't let it go to waste.
“Ivan, Mr. Ivan, where are you going?”
Watching the boy's retreating figure without looking back, Aunt Kasey called out a few times, but he disappeared from view.
She sighed softly, that little Mr. Ivan was becoming more unruly each day. She would need to talk to his employer, Mr. Leider; otherwise, she might be held responsible if anything went wrong.
…
Ivan walked south, crossing several streets, until he arrived in front of a medical clinic located next to an alley at the end of a street.
The door to the clinic was half-open.
The palpitations in his chest urged him not to delay any longer; he entered directly, immediately smelling the mixed aromas of various herbs. Inside, there was a limping old man with white hair—Old Orio.
“Tsk, tsk.”
Old Orio was the only doctor in the clinic, his thin face marked by a birthmark that looked like it had been scorched by flames.
Those who knew Old Orio were aware of his genuinely bizarre temperament.
At the moment, he was making impolite noises with his mouth while staring at Ivan's arm, then blurted out, “You're actually still alive?”
Does he see something?
Ivan's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't dare say anything and just looked at him uneasily.
“You're one lucky lad; the poison must have dissipated quite a bit in the water.”
“Besides, you're fortunate to have found me.”
“This is a potent venom secreted by a mutated insect. Apart from me, no one else in Flying Fish Port could treat you,” Old Orio stated his diagnosis unhurriedly, barely concealing his self-satisfaction.
Seeing his confidence, Ivan pleaded, “Mr. Orio, please, I rely on you.”
“Let me see, do you feel anything here—nothing, huh? What about this side?—Your back is in much better shape than your arm. I'll treat your arm first and wait; I need to grab a basin. I can't waste the poisonous blood; it's been years since I've seen such a potent toxin—”
Beside the workbench, Old Orio continued talking as he treated Ivan, taking a basin and placing it under the arm he was about to treat.
He applied an ointment, made three cuts over the large swelling, squeezed out the poisonous blood, and rinsed it with a green liquid, the pungent odor wafting through the air.
Pungency was secondary; pain was the key issue.
Ivan's arm couldn't stop shaking.
“Don't tremble, pain is a good sign. If it didn't hurt, that would be a real problem.”
Suddenly, Old Orio struck his wound with a fist, causing Ivan to grit his teeth and grimace. Angry but unable to protest, he cursed the quack internally.
Old Orio kept squeezing hard on the swelling, and more poisonous blood flowed with the green liquid into the basin.
The intense pain made Ivan's eyes water.
It was excruciating; had it not been for Old Orio's iron-like grip holding his arm, he would have drawn his arm back long ago.
When Old Orio finally stopped squeezing, the swelling on the forearm was left a mere deflated layer with red blood slowly seeping out.
He sprinkled some reddish copper powder on the wound, which instantly stemmed the blood flow, taking just a second or so, as if it had encountered its nemesis.
This alleviated pain allowed Ivan to take a closer look.
On second thought, of course, this world had knights and Combat Energy, as well as even more mysterious sorcerers, so it was quite normal for medications to have extraordinary effects.
“Making a fuss over nothing.”
Old Orio took an exquisite glass vial with golden patterns inlaid on it, seemingly an item of nobility, and scooped a spoonful of ointment from it. He spread it evenly over the swelling and wrapped it with cotton and coarse cloth.
He then treated Ivan's back. After a flurry of activity and more wrapping with glue, cotton, and coarse cloth, the treatment was complete.
“Drink this.”
After treating the wound, he handed over a small bottle of dark green potion.
Old Orio bumped his shoulder and rudely squeezed him aside, busying himself with tidying up.
The old man really had some strength.
Ivan stumbled a few steps to the side before he regained his balance. He downed the dark green potion in one gulp and glared fiercely at a certain old man with his eyes.
This vet—no, quack, wasn't he afraid of medical disputes?
Suddenly, Old Orio turned back, their gazes met, and Ivan squeezed out a polite yet slightly awkward smile.
“You brought money, kid?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Nine silver coins.”
Ivan answered truthfully; it was all he had, and he expected it wouldn't be enough.
By now, the palpitations in his chest had subsided, and his heartbeat became even steadier. The coolness settled over his sliced wound as if an ice pack had been applied, and the whole person felt a weight being lifted, all unmistakably pointing to the other's expertise.
Once Old Orio heard ‘nine silver coins,' his eyes bulged even more, seemingly hiding knives in them.
“You think nine silver coins can save your life? Those are all top-quality medicines.”
“Probably not.”
Ivan shook his head, then added, “How about I pay the nine silver coins first, and for whatever amount I'm short, I'll figure out a way to make it up in a few days and pay you back.”
Old Orio was silent for a while before turning his head back and speaking, “Today's treatment costs two gold coins, and you'll need to come in two days with one gold coin. Remember to come here and work~ Do odd jobs for me, and we can talk about the rest when your father comes back.”
“Alright.”
Life was saved by the other, Ivan never thought to run out on the bill.
Three gold coins, equivalent to three hundred silver coins, amounted to three months' expenses for his family; he certainly couldn't afford this sum.
His father was a leader of a mercenary group, and with frequent injuries on missions, visits to the medical hall were not uncommon. They knew each other well.
As for the odd job arrangement, he guessed it was Old Orio's temper, deliberately making things difficult because he did not like the look of him.
“Mr. Orio, thank you for saving my life.”
A while later, Ivan clumsily stuffed a booklet titled ‘Notes on Doing Odd Jobs' into his pocket as he left the medical hall, and the sky outside was already darkening.
Perhaps because the memories had merged thoroughly, as he looked around at the green bricks and black tiles along the streets, and at the passersby with brown hair, red hair, blue eyes, and black eyes, he didn't feel unfamiliar. Instead, there was a kind of comforting routine.
“It feels good to be able to move.”
He walked towards home, his steps exceptionally light.
For a young man who had been paralyzed for nearly half a year and was diagnosed as untreatable, being able to walk and jump was a form of happiness.
Before he reached his family's estate, he saw from afar a young girl with a stern face eagerly watching him.
The girl had bright eyes and white teeth, brown hair, and black pupils, somewhat resembling a certain ‘know-it-all' young lady.
She deliberately kept a stoic face, trying to muster some authority as she called out, “Wandering around so late, have you been fighting and gotten hurt again? How did you get so injured? Who did it?”
The girl was his twelve-year-old sister Peggy, and to Ivan, it felt like facing an older sister.
Ivan replied, “I was stung a few times by some bugs, just came back from the medical hall.”
“You didn't go to some remote cave, did you? Serves you right for showing off and suffering the consequences.”
Peggy chided softly while reaching out to support him.
Ivan felt embarrassed as she actually hit the nail on the head.
A figure emerged from the room, running and saying, “Ivan, did you guys go on an adventure? That's not fair, not taking me with you.”
“Shut up, Sean. Brother Ivan is hurt and needs peace and quiet.”
“Oh.”
This was his brother Sean, also twelve years old, a twin to Peggy and the youngest in the family.
Sean was equally playful, and considering his predecessor's personality, Ivan understood why it was Peggy who took the reins of the household.
The Marichadon family had a peculiar phenomenon: five siblings, the eldest two were twin brothers, the fourth and fifth were fraternal twins. The only elder left in the house was their father, who was busy with the mercenary group. The two older brothers had always followed their father and were taught attentively.
Ivan was the third in line.
Because he wasn't valued by his father, he always acted out for attention, becoming more rebellious after their mother's death.
“The miserable third, neither here nor there, not even entrusted with the family's Knight Breathing Method.”
After dinner, back in his room, Ivan felt wistful over his past memories.
“Starting to work to repay debts at thirteen and a half, life couldn't get any stranger.”
He took out the book Old Orio had shoved into his hand, preparing for his upcoming stint as a worker, and besides, he was greatly interested in the medicines that Old Orio used.
Fifty Commonly Used Herbs
Handwritten in Fandani, the common language of the Aromatic Wheat Dukedom.
“Did he give me the wrong book?”
Ivan paused, but this did not hinder his reading enthusiasm.
In his previous life, when he found himself at wits' end, he read traditional medicine books, desperately trying to cure himself, and was not unfamiliar with medical texts.
This book featured textual descriptions, diagrams, and meticulous detail, yet the herbs described were completely unfamiliar; not one was recognizable to him.
Take the Black Spider Flower, for instance—at first glance, it looked like a spider crouching in the center of the flower. This was actually the pattern in the center of the flower, resembling a black spider poised to jump.
The flower could emit a unique scent that hunted spiders, used to repel insects. The petals marked with spider patterns were the herbal material; after being fumigated and processed, they would curl into slender sticks, which were the finished product called ‘Spider Flower Claw.'
By adding a type of spider gland fluid, a potion could be made to eliminate foul odors, which was quite fascinating.
The book broadened his horizons, and he gradually became absorbed in the words and pictures within.
At a certain moment, his head suddenly grew heavy, and strange illusions started appearing before his eyes, obscuring his vision and startling him into shrinking back, trying to avoid whatever it was.
Chapter end
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