Not willing

“Why would I let some lazy bastard share the results of my experiment? That’s enough—I don’t want to argue with you.”

“There are plenty of students short on money in this school. Just go tempt one of them with some benefits.”

“I absolutely will not share my results with anyone.”

Sphinx let go of Collins, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at him.

The light in his gaze was pure hostility—not the look of someone begging, but of someone eyeing a fat lamb ready for slaughter.

Collins laughed.

So, if persuasion didn’t work, now it was time for threats?

“Well, what? You want to fight me now?”

Collins wasn’t particularly strong in combat—but was Sphinx?

They were both pampered kids who grew up like greenhouse flowers.

In that sense, they were equal.

And if it really came down to it, there was no reason for Collins, a mid-level mage, to lose to a beginner.

He stood up and took a fighting stance, elemental magic surging around him.

If a beginner mage could only vaguely sense the presence of elemental energy, then a mid-level mage could already perceive how elemental structures operated in space.

The gap wasn’t just about how much mana you had, or the toughness of your mind—it was a fundamental difference in perspective.

If beginner mages saw elemental magic in 2D, mid-level mages saw it in 3D.

To outsiders, that might not seem like much.

But to insiders, the gap was like a chasm.

Sphinx didn’t actually intend to fight.

He walked over to Collins’s pile of experimental materials and picked up a piece of refined crystal sand.

“This was just delivered today, right?”

Collins looked at him in confusion—then a possibility flashed through his mind.

“Don’t tell me… are you planning to threaten me by cutting off my experiment supplies?”

“No, no, no. To those stingy teachers, you’re way more valuable than a useless student like me.”

“Why would they sacrifice the experiment of a genius like you for someone like me with no future?”

True—using materials as leverage wasn’t a reliable plan.

Collins clenched his hand, fingernails pressing lightly into the flesh of his palm, sending little waves of discomfort up his arm.

He had just earned a thousand credits by achieving mid-level mage certification.

Among all the students, that was enough to rank him in the top three.

Compared to someone with such financial and academic resources, trying to block his access to materials would be pointless.

So then, why was Sphinx holding his materials?

Sphinx saw through Collins’s confusion and didn’t bother to hide anything.

He simply removed the crystal sand from its magical safety seal and gathered fire elements in his hand.

The moment the fire touched the crystal sand, intense heat spread out.

The material—normally saturated with water-element energy—suddenly burst into flames.

And not just a small fire—it was burning vigorously.

As the flames slowly died, Collins stood there with his mouth agape, staring at the pile of ash that used to be his magical component.

“There’s a problem with the materials—not just this one.”

Sphinx smiled faintly.

Collins frowned and rushed to the corner where he stored all his materials.

He checked them carefully, one by one.

Thirteen types of components.

Everything delivered more than a week ago was fine.

But most of what had been delivered within the past week showed defects, big or small.

Defective materials could sometimes be blamed on poor quality or negligence by the logistics department.

But some issues couldn’t be dismissed that easily.

Take the burning crystal sand, for example.

That wasn’t a simple case of poor quality.

That kind of transformation would’ve required several rounds of alchemical reverse-processing to achieve.

Collins piled all the faulty materials on the floor.

He looked at Sphinx in disbelief.

He couldn’t imagine how much effort it would take to sabotage all of these supplies.

And how many people would need to be bribed.

“Your method of threatening me is… pretty damn brutal.”

Faced with Collins’s accusation, Sphinx looked utterly puzzled.

“That’s interesting. Why would you think I did something so boring?”

“Do you realize how much work it takes to swap all these materials—some of which were even designed to blow up your lab equipment mid-experiment?”

“That kind of stunt takes effort, money, and planning. Why would someone like me waste time on that?”

Collins’s confusion only deepened.

“So it wasn’t you?”

“Bullshit.”

“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t sabotage your equipment.”

“That would just mean I’ve lived too comfortably and want to suffer.”

“The teachers already don’t like me. If I did anything to a genius like you, I might as well pack my bags.”

“Then why are you—”