Durin feigned drunkenness and said, "Speaking of which, Tuls, didn't I have experience as a Mage Assistant before? That Necromancer basically liked to solve everything with magic. But I feel like Kreslin the Mage doesn't seem to like using magic much. He gives me more of a Scholar vibe."
Tuls waved his hand and said with a chuckle, "Oh, a lot of people say that. But I've personally seen Mr. Kreslin use magic to make something float out of thin air, so Mr. Kreslin is definitely a Mage! It's just... Mr. Kreslin is a good Mage, unlike other Mages in Zaun. Hmm... he's a good person!"
A good person?
Durin was slightly taken aback, then laughed, "Hahahaha! I was just a little curious. Hey, do you know what Kreslin the Mage's usual hobbies are?"
"Hobbies? Mr. Kreslin usually likes to read ancient books and then discuss and research with Scholars," Tuls recalled, pondering for a moment, then continued, "And... in his leisure time, he likes to listen to some explosive Zaun music, using an Upper City phonograph to listen."
"Listen to explosive music?" Durin was a bit surprised.
This was quite different from the image of a Mage he had in mind, but it was harmless. As long as he knew some of Kreslin the Mage's preferences, he could cater to them, and he would surely gain the other party's trust and pleasure. Perhaps he might even be willing to teach him a spell or two for self-defense.
Durin burped, tried to stand up, but found his belly caught on the table's surface. He awkwardly pushed the table away to stand up, revealing his round beer belly.
After having Tuls put away the copper circle coins, Durin staggered to the restroom to relieve himself. His mind cleared considerably before he walked out.
After bidding farewell to Tuls, Durin walked towards his residence.
From the still bustling East District of Seventh Avenue to Ninth Avenue, there were only some incredibly simple, narrow paths, paved with old stones.
As Durin walked, he came to a narrow stone cave.
This stone cave was an artificial large hole carved out of the cliff for passage, serving as the "gate" to the Slums of Ninth Avenue.
This gate, in a sense, distinguished the identities of Zaun's poor and common people.
Whether one was noble or lowly depended on whether they slept above or below the gate at night, so this place was called the entrance to the Slums.
However, the alchemical streetlights on both sides of the street had long since gone out.
One step, two steps, Durin gradually approached the stone gate. In such dim conditions, he could barely guess the gate's location by feel. He hadn't walked this path many times; normally, he didn't take this route. Before, he always took another path about five hundred meters away.
But it was late today, and Durin wanted to rush home to rest as soon as possible. This shortcut could shorten his travel time by nearly ten minutes, and having drunk, he was inevitably a bit more active and bolder than usual.
"Hoo... hoo..."
But Durin suddenly stopped. He seemed to hear someone panting behind the stone gate.
"Hoo! Hoo!"
He listened carefully again and quickly confirmed it was a person's panting sound.
Someone was waiting for him behind the stone gate!
"Hey! Come out!"
Durin instinctively reached for the short knife at his waist, his brows tightly furrowed, and his body slightly leaning forward as he called out nervously.
In the middle of the night, on a secluded path, hearing someone waiting for him, with such rapid breathing. This was Zaun; anything could happen!
Could it be... he had encountered a robber who killed without batting an eye?
He couldn't be that unlucky, could he!
Durin was extremely nervous.
The next moment, a thin man in a short jacket rushed out from behind the wall. The short jacket he wore was too old and had several obvious large holes, through which his oil-stained body could be seen directly.
He clutched a not-so-sharp dagger tightly in his hand and darted out from behind the stone gate, blocking Durin's path. He looked to be in his thirties, disheveled, with a sallow, freckled face due to malnutrition. His eyes fixed fiercely on Durin, and his entire body was tense.
Durin felt as if he were facing a cat with its fur bristling, highly alert.
"Give me money! Give me all the money you have on you!" the man roared, his eyes wide and face flushed, "Quick! What the hell are you hesitating for! Give it to me now!"
Durin scrutinized the man, who was about thirty years old, and realized that although the other party was agitated and looked menacing, his posture with the dagger and his nervous demeanor during the extortion didn't look like an experienced criminal at all. Coupled with his rapid breathing, he was likely an amateur, possibly doing this for the first time out of desperation.
"Hey! Calm down, if you're short on money, I can give you some!"
After making his judgment, Durin fumbled in his pocket for a few copper circle coins and threw them to the man.
However, the man, upon seeing the copper circle coins on the ground, did not bend down to pick them up. Instead, he showed a ferocious expression and roared, "No! This little bit of money isn't enough for me! I need to pay debts! I want all the money on you!"
Durin's face instantly darkened. The other party was pushing his luck, wanting all his money?
So, he unhesitatingly drew the short knife from his waist, indicating that he was not to be trifled with.
He, who usually avoided trouble, did not choose to turn and run at this moment because he feared the other party might become desperate and throw the dagger at his back. Therefore, facing the enemy head-on was the safest option.
Additionally, the environment was simply too dark. If he turned around and took another path now, he might encounter other dangers. The path he had come from was already completely swallowed by darkness. The discarded alchemical streetlights on the roadside served only as decorations, and Durin could barely make out about ten meters around him using his own dark vision.
"Are you sure you want to fight me?" Durin threatened sternly, "I'm not easy to mess with. Swords have no eyes, you need to understand that."
As he spoke, he deliberately brandished the short knife in his hand, his actions radiating a sense of threat.
The man stared at Durin, a hesitant expression on his face, but after a moment of hesitation, he still let out an angry roar and charged forward fiercely.
The dagger cut through the air with a series of whooshing sounds, its sharp blade slashing directly towards Durin's throat.
"Swoosh! Swoosh!"
Durin's short blade swirled, deflecting the opponent's dagger with lightning speed, then he elbowed the man in the chest. With a slight twist of the short blade in his palm, he inflicted a wound on the man's arm.
The intense pain caused the man's features to twitch and contort. He immediately dropped his dagger, turned, and fled, screaming wildly.
After all, he wasn't a professional robber; a little pain was enough to clear the head of this possibly desperate, pitiful person.
As Durin cut the man, two lines of text appeared before his eyes:
[One-handed Weapon Proficiency +1, Current Proficiency: 52/75]
[Gained Character Experience, Character Level +1, Current Character Level Lv.4, Gained one Specialization Point.]