Bab 33: Speech Part 3

The Emerald City guards and academy staff rushed Akshar to the infirmary, but given how fast barbarians recover, George suspected he wouldn't be there long.

"NEXT!" George shouted, gesturing for the next student to step forward.

One by one, students came forward, asking questions that often left George stumped. Some questions were well beyond his ability to answer, but instead of panicking, George simply ignored them, pretending they weren't even worth his time.

Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, but thanks to his persona ring, the illusion covered up any signs of his discomfort, keeping his appearance perfectly composed.

A girl, older than the rest, stepped up. By her height and the sophisticated design of her robe, George guessed she was a third-year magician. "Since you are a magician, I think it's only appropriate that I ask: how did you reach godhood?"

George's heart raced as he quickly massaged his neck, using the movement to conceal a nervous swallow. He knew that if he answered poorly, his entire facade could collapse. But being a lawyer had taught him one skill he could always rely on—lying convincingly.

"You need to be careful asking questions like that," George began, stalling as he formulated a response. "Would you like to know how I reached godhood, or would you prefer to learn how you can reach it?"

The girl hesitated, her brow furrowing as she considered the distinction. Before she could respond, George jumped in.

"You're wondering what the difference is, aren't you?" he asked, leaning forward.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively covered her head. 'He's reading my mind!' she thought, terrified.

George suppressed a grin. He wasn't reading her mind, of course; it was a basic guess—something con men and magicians back on Earth used all the time.

"And yes," George added, "I am reading your mind."

It was a simple parlor trick, but it worked like a charm. The girl's reaction showed she fully believed in his supposed telepathy.

"But I see you're uncomfortable with that, so I'll stop," George said, feigning concern.

She nodded slowly, still rattled.

"As I was saying, those two questions are very different. What worked for me might not work for you. It might help in the beginning, but when you reach the higher levels, my path won't lead you to godhood. To answer your question: take your own path. If you give one hundred percent of your effort, you might reach godhood." His eyes swept over the audience. "That goes for everyone here."

The girl looked like she wanted to ask more, but before she could speak, George signaled Michael with a quick blink.

Michael raised his hands, and in an instant, the lights in the stadium cut out, plunging the entire arena into pitch blackness. Gasps filled the room.

When the lights flickered back on, pigeons flew in a chaotic swirl from where George had been standing. 'Oz,' however, was nowhere to be seen.

During the brief darkness, George had used his persona ring to cloak himself in an illusion, blending seamlessly into the dark. He quickly slipped into the crowd, hiding among the students.

On stage, the girl, now regaining her composure, shouted into the void. "Great Wizard, I know you can hear me! Remember my name! Azalea! I will be the first witch to reach godhood, and I will surpass you one day!"

Back in the changing room, George and Michael relaxed as they closed the door behind them. George immediately began wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"So, anyone suspicious of anything?" George asked, tossing the cloth aside.

"No," Michael replied, a slight smile on his face. "That mind-reading trick…"

"Trick. Definitely a trick."

"Yeah, how do you do that?"

George waved him off. "Long story. What were you about to say?"

Michael continued, "Your little performance really worked on them. Did you expect it to go that well?"

"Fifty-fifty." George shrugged, still feeling the strain from the act. "But we've got a bigger problem. I'm seriously weak."

Michael gave George a once-over. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Do you have any steroids?"

"Steroids?" Michael asked, the term foreign to him. "Is that something from your world?"

"Yeah, it boosts male hormones, speeds up muscle recovery, helps you build strength faster."

Michael's eyes lit up. "Oh, you're talking about something like the Herculean elixir! Barbarians use it all the time to enhance their strength."

George's ears perked up. "Like a health potion? Just chug it, no injections?"

Michael nodded. "Exactly. I can give you access to an anonymous bank account so you can buy some for yourself. Oztanfil isn't using it anymore, so you might as well."

Just as Michael began to search his bag, he pulled out a letter and paused. His face fell as he scanned the contents.

"I'm sorry, George," Michael said with a heavy sigh. "I can't give you any money."

"What? Why?" George frowned, leaning forward.

"Oztanfil drained all the funds! How in the world did he spend ten thousand gold coins?" Michael exclaimed, throwing the letter onto the floor in frustration.

George's eyes widened. He didn't know the exact value of gold coins in this world, but he knew that 10,000 had to be worth millions in Earth currency.

"Damn…" George muttered, sinking into a nearby chair, thinking through his next steps.

Michael paced, running his hands through his hair. "I'll send the Emerald City guards after Oztanfil, accuse him of being a criminal impersonating you."

George nodded but didn't feel entirely reassured. "And what do I do in the meantime? I'm surrounded by kids who could knock me out with one punch."

Michael stopped pacing and thought for a moment. "It's not the end of the world. The academy runs competitions regularly. Win some of those, and you can earn Herculean elixirs as prizes."