As their collaboration deepened, Draven's attitude underwent a complete transformation.
At first, he was filled with scrutiny and doubt. Following the "diagnostic reports" and "model optimization suggestions" Allen provided, he skeptically adjusted the formulas and supplied the group members with small doses of auxiliary potions.
For example, for an apprentice whose Spiritual Power output was unstable, Allen's suggestion was: "When constructing the second and fourth nodes of the Wizard's Hand, decrease the Spiritual Power output frequency by 15% and increase the amplitude by 7%."
And what Draven needed to provide was a special product called "Micro-Conductive Potion." It didn't enhance Spiritual Power; instead, it temporarily boosted the user's perception of specific frequencies of Spiritual Power output, helping them find that "feeling" Allen spoke of more quickly.
When the first test subject, a merchant's daughter named Isabella Jones, succeeded in constructing a stable Wizard's Hand in just ten minutes after three straight weeks of failure—using only a single bottle of the "Micro-Conductive Potion" and Allen's on-the-spot guidance—Draven was utterly shocked.
He rushed over, grabbed Isabella's wrist, and carefully probed her with his own Spiritual Power.
He discovered that the girl's magic model was clear and stable, with no signs of having been forcibly distorted by any external force.
The potion had acted like a precise tuning fork, helping her correct an out-of-tune note rather than overpowering her own sound with a giant speaker.
"This... This actually works!" Draven's breathing grew ragged.
From that day on, his attitude toward Allen changed completely.
He no longer saw Allen as a competitor to be wary of, but as a partner who could guide him out of the fog.
He began to throw all his energy into research and development, coordinating with Allen's plans. Allen was responsible for "diagnostics" and "prescriptions," while he handled "research" and "production."
The "diagnostic reports" Allen provided grew increasingly detailed, even including the Spiritual Power models of each apprentice. Their depth and breadth rivaled the research projects of some Official Wizards.
Draven's Alchemy Workshop, meanwhile, roared to life like a finely-tuned machine, running at full capacity to produce two newly developed auxiliary potions:
"Shaping Gel," which, after use, could temporarily solidify the Rune models in one's Sea of Consciousness for a quarter of an hour, allowing apprentices to repeatedly experience the correct structure.
"Node Fluorescent Liquid," which, when applied to the fingertips, would emit different colored lights when Spiritual Power output reached specific thresholds, providing apprentices with instant feedback on their practice.
These products were no longer broad-spectrum "stimulants" like the Focus Potion; they were "scalpels" and "correctors," precise down to the finest detail.
They were expensive, but the effects were significant, and they weren't addictive.
Under Allen's guidance and with the help of Draven's potions, the group members improved by leaps and bounds.
In less than a month, Draven's workshop was turning a profit.
Looking at the positive Magic Stone balance on the financial report, Draven was overwhelmed with a mix of emotions.
For the time being, he no longer had to worry about the expensive rent and research funds.
Having gotten a taste of success, Draven began to proactively clear obstacles from their path of cooperation. He knew very well that Allen was the core of this business model, and Allen's study group was the source of their customers.
Protecting that source meant protecting his own source of income.
One afternoon, Marcus Bell—the hot-tempered but high-Spiritual-Power member of the study group—got into a conflict with a senior apprentice at the next table during practice.
The other party was a friend of Kael's and was deliberately looking for trouble. He claimed that the Magic Power fluctuations from Marcus's practice had disturbed him and demanded ten Magic Stones in compensation.
Just as the two were arguing, Draven appeared.
He wore an Advanced Apprentice Robe, the insignia of the alchemy school pinned to his chest, and was followed by two towering Alchemy Puppets.
"You dare touch my people?" Draven's voice wasn't loud, yet it silenced the entire practice room.
When the troublemaking senior apprentice saw Draven, the arrogance on his face immediately vanished, replaced by panic.
He stammered, trying to explain, "Draven... Senior, I... I was just..."
"Get lost. And tell Kael to keep his dogs on a leash. If there's a next time, I won't hesitate to make his little note-selling business disappear from this academy for good."
The apprentice scrambled away.
Marcus and the other group members looked at Draven, their eyes filled with awe and gratitude.
They knew that they were no longer helpless newcomers. Behind them stood a powerful backer who was on the verge of becoming an Official Wizard and held considerable standing in the academy.
Similar incidents occurred several more times.
Whether it was malicious reviews from the academy's mission office or senior apprentices subtly trying to trip them up, Draven quietly took care of it all.
He used his connections and status to create a protective umbrella for Allen's study group.
Allen was fully aware of this, but he never thanked Draven. A strange, unspoken understanding had formed between them.
Every week, Allen would punctually send Draven the latest "research topics" and "client data packets." In return, Draven would include a "list of recent troubles and their resolutions."
They were like two core departments of a precision-run company: one responsible for R&D and market development, the other for manufacturing and security.
Efficient, in sync, with a shared goal.
Allen stood at his dorm window, looking toward the distant A-7 practice room.
On his DSeek interface, the map of his business plan had expanded once again.
The fifty-person study group provided a stable income of 750 Magic Stones per month, and the customized potion market they had leveraged was even more profitable.
Their official profit-sharing agreement with Draven was formalized as a 30-70 split: Allen took thirty percent, and Draven took seventy. It was Allen who had proposed this, offering to cede a tenth of the total profits to Draven, citing the extra "security" and "public relations" work he was handling.
It looked like Allen was getting the short end of the stick, but in reality, all he was contributing was "information." Draven, on the other hand, shouldered all the production costs, R&D investments, and security risks.
It was the perfect leverage.
Allen had used his "knowledge" to leverage Draven's "capital" and "status," bloodlessly completing an astonishing initial accumulation of wealth.
His personal account balance was growing at a terrifying rate, far beyond what any apprentice of his level could imagine.
Draven thought he had found a partner who could lead him out of his predicament. But he would never know that in his partner's eyes, he and his expensive Alchemy Workshop were nothing more than a foundation stone in a much grander blueprint.