Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

Within the multi-layered barrier of the absolutely safe rear zone, the Legion's formal logistics system operates efficiently.

Dressed in neat robes, wizards use sophisticated instruments and expensive materials to repair construct cores, cast true regeneration spells on contracted magical beasts, and even provide "cost-effective treatment" to high-value special slaves.

Occasionally, a cold fragment of thought leaked from the command chain and was captured by Solo's spiritual sense:

"The Third Regiment of Auxiliary Troops of the Alien Race, initially deployed 605,000 units, now has 90,000 remaining."

The casualty rate is in line with the model, but the Rockback's residual value recovery rate is low. It is recommended that the next round of procurement focus on the Ironhide and Astral Transporters.

"The seventh apprentice maintenance team's processing efficiency is 12% lower than the war zone average, affecting the recovery of the No. 3 transport line."

All contribution points will be deducted. If there is no improvement in the next cycle, consider including them in the high-risk cleanup sequence.

On local fronts, hundreds of thousands of foreign slaves were wiped out within a month, with less than one in ten surviving.

These cold numbers, like a nail forged at absolute zero, were driven into Solo's mind.

Even though he had once ruled the Xuanhuang Sect and personally witnessed the bloody battles between sects and the scorched earth of cities, he had never seen such a systematic and industrialized logic of consumption.

Life is viewed purely as a resource with quantifiable, substitutable, calculable, and optimizable loss curves.

In the Xuanhuang Realm, low-level disciples are the cornerstones and seeds of inheritance of sects. Even if they are used as cannon fodder, it is not something that can be consumed so "without a clear conscience".

Here, life is like a worn-out part that is replaced periodically; the wear rate is calmly recorded, and the procurement plan is calmly optimized—everything is just a rational calculation of asset allocation.

In this chilling economic and military logic, the apprentices were not much more noble than the foreign slaves crawling in the mud.

They are simply another type of consumable human resource, whose core value lies solely in the two convenient characteristics of "having basic maintenance skills" and "having almost free magic regeneration".

The rudimentary tricks they learned had already had their costs diluted to negligible levels by the sheer number of apprentices.

Therefore, it was far more economical to have them use spells to treat the wounds of slaves than to distribute medicines to slaves that required complex logistics.

Their mental exhaustion, psychological numbness, and even battlefield casualties were merely pre-calculated and acceptable incidental attrition factors in the assessment model of the academy's higher-ups.

Like the wear and tear on machinery, this is a necessary cost to keep this inexpensive system running.

The initial shock and the clash with values ​​from another world, after witnessing too much procedural and brutal treatment, have settled in Solo's mind into an absolute and detached understanding.

He saw the essence of it all: here, everything is quantifiable, and everything is a resource.

Other races are consumable assets, while apprentices are consumable human resources with built-in maintenance functions and periodic replenishment capabilities.

The so-called "cultivation" is nothing more than a compliance label that no one takes seriously, affixed to the resource extraction system.

The contracts they voluntarily signed are cold, hard credentials that allow the college to maximize the use of this human resource at the lowest possible cost.

In this brutal system where efficiency and cost are etched into every atom, survival and finding a glimmer of escape require far more than just hidden power.

……

The air still seemed to carry the scent of the ash corridor—a pungent, burnt, and astral dust-laden "poison."

He raised his left hand; the crystal embedded in his skin on the inside of his wrist felt slightly warm, emanating a steady yet undeniable mental fluctuation:

"Solo, proceed immediately to Section B-3 of the Seventh Logistics Transfer Station. Someone is looking for you."

There are no emotions in the fluctuations, only coordinates and instructions, just like the academy system itself.

Seventh Logistics Transfer Station, Area B-3

It's cleaner here than the frontline maintenance area, but it's also much more spacious.

The gray-white metal walls are covered with energy-conducting runes, and occasionally a figure dressed in formal witch robes will hurry by.

Solo saw Catherine in a semi-open lounge area.

She leaned against the cold alloy wall, her dark gray battlefield robes covered in dust and dried dark stains. She took off her hood, revealing a face that was once sharp as a blade, but now filled with exhaustion.

Her eyes were sunken, and her skin was dry and pale from long-term exposure to astral radiation and energy turbulence, with even faint, spiderweb-like energy erosion marks.

Her once glossy pink hair now looks faded.

What concerned Solo the most was her mental fluctuations—her originally powerful mental strength, comparable to that of a cultivator who had just entered the Foundation Establishment stage, was now flickering like a candle in the wind, sometimes rising and falling violently, and sometimes almost desolate.

Even an apprentice could clearly perceive that kind of exhaustion that came from the depths of the soul, a kind of depletion.

"You've come." Catherine's voice was hoarse, like sand rubbing against metal.

She forced a smile, trying to produce her usual, slightly sharp one, but it only brought out more lines of weariness.

"It seems you're still alive, and... you haven't been completely turned into a machine that only knows how to glue wounds by the 'Medical Department'."

Solo nodded silently, his gaze calmly fixed on her face.

Catherine didn't seem to need his response and continued speaking to herself, her pace somewhat rapid, as if she were reciting an outdated battle report: "The fighting on the front lines... is going fairly smoothly."

Although a year and a half ago, due to certain "decisions" made by the Emerald Duke, three Level 3 Archmages left the academy—you know, there are always some people who still retain a ridiculous sense of morality or self-interest.

She gave a cold laugh, but there was little sarcasm in it, only numbness.

Solo's eyes flickered slightly.

The other party is clearly showing signs of being brainwashed. It seems that even advanced apprentices are not immune to this. The place where Catherine is located is probably much more "brainwashing-inducing" than this place.

It was powerful enough to affect the mind of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

"But the Grand Duke quickly filled the vacancy—at a great cost, but he managed to poach three Level 3 Archmages from the 'Red Dragon Sea' and the 'Azure Holy Tower'."

Now, the Jade Academy's strength on the main battlefield has not diminished but increased.

She paused, her breathing slightly rapid, as if even speaking was draining her remaining energy.

"This plane... we call it the 'Rock Plane'." A complex light flashed in Catherine's eyes.

"Another Tier 3 being—said to be an elder of the original 'Rockheart Giant'—was personally defeated by the Grand Duke in the last astral cycle, and its core was extracted."

At this rate, it's only a matter of time before the will of the plane completely collapses and falls.

At that time, the Jade Grand Duke will be able to absorb the core of the plane and reach the legendary fourth level.

She paused for a moment, her gaze seemingly piercing through the metal wall, looking towards the distant and bloody front line.

"The situation in my support zone is relatively 'stable'." Catherine emphasized the word "stable" very softly, with a cold mockery in her voice.

"So... I've managed to accumulate a little influence, or rather, a certain amount of 'favors'."

Her gaze refocused on Solo, a faint, almost gentle light shining through her tired eyes.

"Keynes and Leah, I've already transferred them to 'Resource Gathering Area Seven'—"

The area was far from the main battlefront, with only sporadic harassment from indigenous creatures; the intensity of the conflict was negligible.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice low but carrying an undeniable force:

"I came here this time to transfer you there as well. The medical department... that's no place for a human being."

You'll be completely drained by those endless carcasses and cold operating manuals, eventually either suffering a mental breakdown or becoming a mindless zombie capable only of following orders.

Solo listened quietly, his face remaining expressionless.

He didn't speak until Catherine finished, his voice sincere:

"Thank you for the arrangement, Catherine."

Catherine's brow relaxed slightly.

But Solo's next words surprised her slightly.

"But I don't want to be transferred to a safe resource gathering area." He raised his eyes, his gaze as deep as an ancient well. "I request to be transferred to the 'low-intensity frontline combat sequence,' with the battlefield level... restricted to within the first-level biological battlefield."

The weariness in Catherine's eyes was instantly replaced by astonishment, followed by anger: "Are you crazy?! You think the Level 1 biological battlefield is safe?"

That place is a meat grinder too!

They just ground up cheaper meat!

Do you know how many apprentices died there? There weren't even enough bodies to make up the pile.

"I know," Solo said without a change in tone, "but I need a battlefield, not an assembly line."

Working in the medical department doesn't provide real combat experience, nor does it earn enough 'combat merit points'.

He paused for a moment, then added, "I can handle anything below level one. This is my chosen option based on my assessment."

Catherine stared intently at him, as if trying to find any trace of madness or despair on his face, but saw only a chilling calm.

She opened her mouth, wanting to continue scolding him, wanting to bring up Keynes and Leah, wanting to shatter his delusions with harsh data.

But in the end, all the words stuck in his throat.

She is so tired.

Exhausted to the point of having no strength left to forcibly change another person's fate.

Moreover, in this cold and chilling war machine, everyone may have their own way of heading towards destruction or struggling to survive.

"...Foolish." She finally uttered only two words, the anger in her voice dissipating, leaving only deep weariness and a trace of inexplicable sadness.

"I will submit your application. There's always a large gap in low-intensity warfare... they will approve it."

She turned away, seemingly not wanting to look at him again.

"Don't die too quickly, Solo, at least... don't die in vain."