Wizard: Start with Biological Transformation to Grind Experience-Chapter 64 - 004: Disheartened Sailor

Grupa was a dockworker in River Town, loading and unloading cargo since his teenage years. Now, it had been over a decade.

Dock work was anything but easy; it was pure physical labor. Though the pay was decent, many found it too grueling and quickly switched jobs. A worker like Grupa, who had stuck with it for over ten years, was truly rare.

Most dockhands would spend their wages indulging in debauchery, wasting it on women. But Grupa was different—he meticulously saved every coin, spending not a penny beyond necessary expenses.

"Why so diligent, Grupa? Are you planning to save up for a wife?"

Multiple acquaintances had asked him this, and a few widows, aware of his savings, even tried to arrange a match through intermediaries.

But to all these inquiries, Grupa always gave the same response:

"No!"

His explanation was straightforward: "I can’t waste my money on things like that. I’m saving up to buy a ship someday so I can sail west along the Rhine River, to the sea, to seek out the legendary Wizards and embark on thrilling adventures with them!"

Those familiar with Grupa knew that this wasn’t the first time he’d said so.

It seemed as if he were spellbound by the tales he’d heard—dreaming of things that existed only in fantasy: Wizards, sea demons, magic. He constantly fantasized about embarking on a dazzling and exciting adventure.

"Life is short—just a few decades. I refuse to let my life be so dull and ordinary!" he often declared, and when he said this, his eyes would shimmer with light.

"Fool!"

"Dimwit!"

"Idiot!"

That was the consensus among those who knew him.

After all, everyone knew that Wizards, magic—those were all just figments of legend, stories concocted by Minstrels. They were nothing but fantasy. Only a fool would immerse himself in such dreams and believe them to be true.

Once, there had been some young men who, like Grupa, enjoyed fantasizing. They would gather, share their whimsical visions, and imagine their fantastic journeys.

But as the years passed and they grew older, those young men gradually let go of their illusions, returned to reality, got married, and settled down. Only Grupa remained unchanged, clinging to his dreams as ever.

Yet, fantasy is, after all, just fantasy!

Time flew by, and over ten years had elapsed. Grupa was now over thirty, with half his life already gone.

Despite all this time, he had yet to embark on a single adventure. While his wages were sufficient for sustenance, saving enough for a seafaring ship was nothing more than a hopeless pipe dream.

Maybe... I should give up?

As his physical strength waned and the wrinkles on his face deepened, Grupa began to reckon with reality. At times, he hesitated—should he abandon his absurd and laughable dream, marry, and settle down?

But he simply couldn’t resign himself to this. After all, this dream had been his lifelong pursuit—the meaning he’d ascribed to his existence since childhood. If he gave it up, Grupa didn’t know how he’d carry on afterward.

On one side lay his dream; on the other, reality. Grupa found himself deeply conflicted.

These days, he drank more and more frequently. Tonight, for seemingly no reason, he got into trouble at the bar—mostly because of these gnawing worries, seeking chaos as an outlet for his frustrations.

Bar fights were common occurrences. When people got drunk or simply felt dissatisfied, they’d find an excuse to brawl. It was entirely normal in a tavern setting, and come the next morning, everyone would still laugh it off.

What Grupa didn’t expect was to have picked on someone he absolutely shouldn’t have tonight.

As he watched the oak mug being shredded into splinters, his face instantly went pale. Such strength was clearly beyond the capacity of an ordinary person. The seemingly fragile "pretty boy" standing before him was evidently—

"A Knight!"

"A Knight Master! Why would a Knight Master come to a place like this?"

Grupa wasn’t the only one stunned. The tavern patrons were equally dumbfounded, unable to understand why a noble Knight would show up in such a shabby tavern at this hour and even treat them to drinks.

Fortunately, this Knight was broad-minded. Despite Grupa’s offense, he did not take it personally. After demonstrating his immense strength, he spared him and casually said, "Go find a seat. Tonight, the drinks are on me."

"Y-Yes... Yes, sir."

Grupa dared not utter another word, stammering his reply before sheepishly retreating.

The tavern returned to its usual uproar, as the drunkards raised their mugs and shouted:

"Praise you, Knight Master!"

...

In mere hours, dawn arrived—it was already three in the morning.

The tavern, now silent, had calmed down.

Most of the drunkards had been dragged home by their wives. Those left behind, unwanted or too far gone, were sprawled out on the floor, snoring in drunken slumber.

At one table, Lynch shook his head slightly. Years of cultivating the Knight Breathing Method meant that the effects of the alcohol were negligible to him. Similarly, the spiritual power of a Wizard wasn’t something mundane alcohol could dull.

Still, the place he was headed to next required caution. Lynch pulled a bottle of Awakening Potion from his pocket, drank it, and, with a wave of his hand, summoned a breeze to dispel the stench of alcohol from his body.

"It’s about time."

He glanced at the time on his pocket watch one last time, then donned his cloak and left the tavern.

Meanwhile, at a table near the entrance, Grupa—who had been slumped over—was startled awake by the sudden chilly breeze and sneezed. The jolt cleared his head.

As he sat up, he happened to see Lynch heading out the door.

"Off to relieve himself?"

Grupa assumed so, thinking that it was far too late to head home—he would’ve left earlier if that were the case.

Remembering how he had offended him earlier, Grupa—despite the Knight’s graciousness—felt it was only proper to offer a sincere apology. He hurried out after him, but in the blink of an eye, the Knight had vanished.

"Where did he go?"

Grupa, still groggy, searched around before finally spotting Lynch by the riverside. He was standing at the edge of the dock, just one step away from the water.

"Oh, gods!"

Grupa was startled. Over the years, drunkards falling into the river and drowning were not unheard of. Especially in the bitter cold, a plunge into the water could be lethal—even if rescued, the resulting illness might prove fatal.

He hurried to run over, but before he reached Lynch, the next moment brought an eerie, unforgettable sight.

That moment—one that would change his ordinary fate forever—arrived quietly...