The moment Lukas opened the **System Mall**, his pulse quickened.
The interface was barebones — three rows, each with five product slots, neatly divided into **Magic**, **Materials**, and **Items**.
Products varied wildly in quality, from beginner charms to the sort of legendary relics whispered about in wizard pubs. The system allowed him to spend Magic Points to refresh: one slot, one row, or all slots at once. As always, the outcome depended entirely on luck.
And on the very first time he had opened it two years ago… luck had seemed to smile on him.
A resurrection spell.
At the time, Lukas had almost believed the heavens themselves were watching over him. The kind of magic that could bring the dead back — what could be more powerful? But reading the fine print had killed the fantasy.
**Requirements:**
1. Reach the level of *Grand Magister* (Magic Power 10,000+).
2. Sacrifice 20% of your Magic Power per cast, requiring months to recover.
3. The deceased must have died within the last twenty years, and you needed a piece of their body.
The third condition was tolerable. The first two? Not even close.
For reference, the system's magician ranking looked like this:
* **Magician Apprentice:** 1–100 MP
* **Junior Magician:** 100–500 MP
* **Intermediate Wizard:** 500–1000 MP
* **Advanced Magician:** 1000–3000 MP
* **Magician:** 3000–5000 MP
* **Magister:** 5000–10,000 MP
* **Grand Magister:** 10,000–30,000 MP
* **Saint Magister:** 30,000–50,000 MP
* **God of Magic:** ???
At his current **three-digit** magic power, Lukas estimated it would take at least a decade — and that was without mentioning the obscene cost: **30,000 Magic Points**.
So, back then, he'd sighed, spent a single point to refresh the slot… and that refresh had led to his first ever purchase.
**Occlumency – 1000 Magic Points.**
*Grants complete resistance to mental intrusion; memories cannot be read unless willingly revealed.*
The moment he'd bought it, the knowledge etched itself into his mind like chisel on stone.
If Dumbledore himself had tried Legilimency on him now? Lukas was sure the old man would walk away empty-handed.
Just as he was about to close the interface, the system's flat voice rang in his head:
> "Congratulations, Host, for your first System Mall purchase. Rewards are granted when total Magic Point expenditure meets certain thresholds:
>
> 1 MP – Special Potion 'Moon Drop' (removes any negative curse)
> 10 MP – Special Potion 'Resurrection' (revives any creature dead less than one hour)
> 100 MP – Skill: Wandless Casting
> 1000 MP – Magical Creature Egg (100% loyalty to Host)"
Lukas blinked. Then frowned. Then stared at the items materializing in his system space.
A magenta potion.
An emerald-green potion.
And a pure white egg — thirty centimeters long, cloud-like patterns rippling over its shell, radiating a strange nobility.
"…You've been holding out on me," Lukas muttered. "Two years, and you never mentioned this?"
> "The host did not ask," the system replied dryly.
> "And is there any difference between receiving these rewards early or late?"
Lukas paused. As much as he wanted to argue, he had to admit — it made no difference.
The potions were priceless, but for now useless. He had no curses to lift and no one to resurrect.
The egg, however…
"System. What species? How do I hatch it?"
> "Identification available for 1 Magic Point."
Lukas stared at his last remaining point and muttered, "Robber."
Still, he spent it.
> **\[Race]: Dragon**
> **\[Hatching Method]: At least three hours of sunlight daily. Will hatch in seven days.**
> **\[Notes]: No existing branch in this world. Starts at Magician Apprentice level, gains strength with host's power. Can freely alter size.**
A slow grin spread across Lukas's face. A one-of-a-kind dragon that could sit in the palm of his hand or soar over mountains? That was more than a pet — that was a partner.
He didn't care what the Ministry of Magic thought. The Vale family's influence was more than enough to keep curious eyes away.
"Not bad. Not bad at all," he murmured, cradling the egg. "Naming can wait. Seven days isn't long."
Moonlight spilled through his bedroom window, bathing the shell in silver.
"System… would moonlight count toward hatching?"
> "Please refrain from lowering the system's IQ with such questions."
"Tch. You weren't that smart to begin with."
He placed the egg gently in the beam of moonlight.
"There's no sun for now, little one. Make do with this."
By the time he sat down to eat, the egg had already begun to tremble — just enough to be felt, not seen.
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