Internet Mage Professor

Professor Hein’s fingers hovered above the unassuming box he’d chosen, lips pursed in academic determination.

With the silence of a man entirely absorbed in thought, he slowly opened it.

A dull clink.

From within emerged a small, lifeless trinket—barely more than a button. L

The kind of thing a street magician might toss to children as a party favor. Hein stared at it for a moment, expression unreadable.

The crowd held its breath.

Then came the inevitable wave of mutters, snickers, and a few poorly concealed bursts of laughter.

Nolan leaned against a fruit cart and raised an eyebrow. "Well. That’s what he gets for trusting intuition over common sense." and then, he would sip his ordered tea.

Hein calmly returned the box to the table and selected another. "Again."

The seller, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, shrugged and gestured for him to continue.

Another box.

Another failure.

The second box contained what appeared to be a metallic beetle. When Hein touched it, it crumbled into dust—clearly an expired illusionary artifact with no residual mana.

The crowd laughed louder this time, and a few of the bolder ones began calling out suggestions and jests.

"Maybe try the pink one next, professor!"

"Third time’s the charm! Or is it fourth?"

Nolan watched with faint amusement, arms crossed. "What’s he trying to prove? Some kind of ’even geniuses fail’ morality tale?"

Hein, unfazed, tried again.

And again.

Box after box. Object after object. Each one more worthless than the last. A rusted key. A cracked stone. A wooden talisman that let out a flat, mocking squawk when activated.

By the seventh try, even Nolan winced. "You’d think he’d give up by now. At this rate, he’ll need therapy more than mana crystals."

But Hein didn’t give up. With every failure, he only grew more focused, his muttering more intense, his evaluations more detailed. "This pattern suggests embedded reactive glyphs... no, misdirection symbols. The current flows contradict each other—wait, no, that’s deliberate..."

Nolan narrowed his eyes. "Is he trying to learn the scam by playing into it?"

After learning about the Mana Specialist occupation, he became aware that some people pursue knowledge in extreme ways.

Some are even willing to sacrifice their lives, partners, and children, which made him think of them in that light. It felt as though they were falling into a scam to learn how to scam.

Hein reached for another.

Fail.

Another.

Fail.

Twelve times.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Nolan let out a low whistle, adjusting the strap of his satchel. "At this point, he’s spending more than he’d earn in half a semester’s salary. He’s either the most persistent idiot I’ve ever seen, or he’s trying to reverse-engineer the scam for a thesis paper."

The seller, growing visibly uncomfortable, gave a theatrical sigh. "Alright, alright! Enough!"

The crowd fell into a hush.

The seller clapped his hands, and a covered wooden crate was brought out by two assistants in cloaks. They placed it gently beside the table, then stepped back.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the seller declared, his voice now imbued with theatrical flair, "we at the Lucky Artifact Game have always been about giving back to the people. We believe in second chances... and in keeping things interesting."

He swept off the crate’s lid.

Inside sat three large, oval-shaped eggs. Each one pulsed faintly with its own unique hue: one glowed with a cool silver light, another shimmered green like moss under sunlight, and the third flickered in strange purple-blue waves that twisted unpredictably.

"These," the seller said, spreading his arms dramatically, "are not artifacts... they are Companion Beast Eggs!"

A gasp swept through the crowd.

"Each one holds a creature with the potential to bond with you. Nurture it, raise it, and it shall fight at your side. They are unhatched, untouched, and unbound. Fresh from the Eastern Wildfront."

People jostled to get closer.

The seller gestured toward the first egg. "This one contains a two-star talent beast. At peak growth, it can reach the level of a Mana Beast—a creature capable of matching the Initial Mana Stage at its peak."

Gasps erupted.

"To clarify," he added, lifting a hand, "even the strongest humans in Silver Blade City only hover around the Initial Mana User Stage. With effort, and with a little luck, this egg could match them."

Eyes widened. Breath caught. Even the skeptical mutterings died out.

Nolan, who had been lazily watching from a few paces away, blinked and stood a little straighter.

"Wait a minute... that can’t be right," he muttered. "The City’s elite are already considered terrifying just for reaching that stage. That thing’s not just a pet, it’s a walking weapon."

The seller’s grin widened as he pointed to the second egg. "Another two-star. Different lineage. Aquatic variant, potentially elemental-based. Unknown subtype."

Then he gestured toward the third. "And this one...? The readings are unclear. Chaotic, yet strong. Could be two-star, could be more. Maybe less. This one... is for those who like to gamble."

Whispers turned into excited conversations.

"Can we buy them?"

"How much?!"

"Do they accept trades?!"

"No way something like that would be here! This has to be rigged!"

Even Nolan found himself subconsciously reaching for the small pouch of mana crystals at his waist. He quickly stopped himself.

"Don’t be stupid," he murmured. "This guy failed fifteen times in a row. Why would he suddenly be trustworthy now?"

Yet even as he said that, he couldn’t deny the pull. The air around those eggs was different. He could feel it. They weren’t fakes. Not illusions. They pulsed like living things. Warm. Curious.

Hein’s expression changed too. For the first time since his streak of failures, there was a spark of cautious hope in his eyes. He approached slowly, hands behind his back, examining the eggs like a seasoned scholar.

"If they’re real," he murmured, "then this changes the entire premise of the game. A shift from trickery to opportunity. But why now?"

From behind the seller, one of the cloaked assistants leaned down and whispered something into his ear. The seller nodded once and then turned back to the crowd.

"To honor the brave Professor Hein and his unbreakable determination," the seller declared, "we will allow him to choose one egg—free of charge!"

A massive roar erupted.

Nolan stood still, brows deeply furrowed. His gut twisted.

"No way this is generosity," he whispered to himself. "No way. This is bait. It’s all bait."

And just as his suspicions began crawling higher up his spine, something blinked in front of his face.

Ding!

A translucent screen hovered before his vision—bright, artificial, with glowing blue outlines.

Would you like to use the Internet to browse?

Nolan flinched. He looked around—no one else reacted. Only he could see it.

He blinked again. "Wait—again? Here?"

The glowing timer at the top right of the interface was counting down from where it had last left off: 16:57. It hadn’t moved. Still frozen.

Nolan rubbed his eyes. "Is this triggered by emotions? Location? Mana proximity? Is it because I’m near something... fake?"

He stared at the interface.

He could still see the seller, the eggs, the crowd—but this blue light hovered unwaveringly at the forefront of his vision.

His heartbeat slowed. His breath evened.

Nolan muttered under his breath, "Alright. Let me see."

And with that, he reached forward—not with his hand, but with his mind.

He focused on the word:

Browse.

And the interface pulsed in response.