Chapter 24: Training for Crushing the Beast! (2)
But it still wasn’t enough. Not yet. Not for that thing waiting outside.
Leon didn’t want to walk out and struggle. He didn’t want a desperate win. A lucky strike. A narrow escape.
He wanted to crush it. Flatten it. Grind it into the stone like a bug that should’ve never dared to lift its gaze.
To do that—he needed absolute confidence.
He stared at his hands again, the soft hum of mana beneath his skin, and clenched them until the glow sharpened.
"I’m not done."
His voice echoed faintly in the tiless space.
So he went back to it. Again. Again. Again.
Every move analyzed. Every failure dissected. Every mistake burned into mory—and then burned away.
Sotis his legs snapped mid-kick. Sotis his spine cracked under pressure. Sotis he hit the wall hard enough to cough blood.
But he never stopped.
He wasn’t chasing strength anymore. He was forging dominance.
And no matter how many tis he failed—he got up. He corrected. He continued.
Finally. After another six months of brutal, relentless, mind-breaking training—the blue screen appeared again.
[Mana Body Enhancent Technique: Rank Up – Adept Achieved]
Leon didn’t react at first. He just stared at the words, chest rising slowly with a breath that felt... different. Deeper. Controlled. Powerful.
Then—he moved.
And the air split.
Not just a buzz. Not just a ripple.
It shuddered.
He stepped forward again, and his entire body blurred—faster than sight, smoother than thought. Each strike, each motion, ca with a clarity he hadn’t known he was missing.
No hesitation. No waste. No resistance.
He wasn’t just strong now—he was efficient. Every drop of mana answered his will. It surged when called. It moved when pushed. And it stayed when held.
This was what control felt like. This was the start of mastery.
Leon looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. The difference was unreal.
Strength—several tis what it had been.
Speed—blinding.
Durability—unshakable.
And most importantly?
He wasn’t bleeding anymore. No cracks. No pain. No backlash.
He was ready.
Or—getting close.
He hadn’t even touched magic casting yet.
But for the first ti since entering the cocoon... he felt confident.
But as the high settled, and the awe faded into analysis—Leon frowned. He tested his reserves again. asured the flow. Calculated the drain.
And he realized sothing important.
He didn’t have much mana.
The enhancent technique was powerful—absolutely. But it burned through mana like wildfire through dry leaves. Even now, at Adept rank, he could only sustain the enhanced state for about twenty minutes at most.
Just twenty.
Back when he was a Novice, it had barely been five. At Apprentice, he’d managed ten—just enough to feel useful.
But now? Even with all the strength, speed, and control... it had a ti limit. A very real one.
He sighed and let the technique fade. The aura around him dimd, his muscles cooled, and the sharp hum in the air vanished.
This isn’t a finish line.
It’s a milestone.
And if he wanted to crush that monster—not just survive, not just outlast—he’d need more. Much more.
With strength and speed secured, it was ti.
Elental control.
Leon focused first on ice.
It felt cold—but not distant. Sharp—but not cruel. Precise. Controlled. Ruthless when it needed to be.
He liked it imdiately.
And once he started training, he couldn’t stop.
It took him four months. Four months of constant shaping, refining, breaking down, rebuilding—but eventually, it clicked.
There was no system ssage this ti. No glowing screen. No cosmic fanfare.
Just results.
He could now form spears, bullets, even walls of jagged frost—all at will.
If he had mana, he could make it. And that was enough.
Then ca the wind.
Not just for ranged spells—though he learned a few. But for speed. Agility. Control.
He wove it through his legs like threads. Wrapped it across his back. Used it to boost dashes, to pivot in mid-air, to glide across the stone like he had wings.
He even mastered a technique he’d only theorized before:
Wind-coated blades.
A dense sheath of whirling air wrapped around his daggers—silent, invisible, and devastating. It sharpened the edge. Increased the force. Made every strike faster, deeper, harder to block.
Because deep down, he knew—his daggers wouldn’t be enough. Not against that monster. Not alone.
But now?
Now they were coated in wind so tight, they humd in his grip like live wires. Now they could cut deeper. Now they had a chance.
But for the first ti—he could see the path forward.
He was ready.
Not just strong. Not just fast. Confident.
Leon stood at the heart of the cocoon, surrounded by silence, power thrumming just beneath his skin like a storm waiting to detonate.
For half a day—real-ti or otherwise—inside the space for more than a year—this space had been his crucible. His forge. His sanctuary.
And now, it was ti to leave it behind.
His mind slipped free from the suspended flow of the Dinsional Hourglass. His consciousness realigned.
And for the first ti in what felt like an eternity—his eyes opened.
They glowed mysteriously. Not just light reflecting, but the light emanating—as if his soul was pressing out through his gaze.
Calmly, Leon stepped forward. No pain. No hesitation. Just strength.
He raised his right hand and pressed it lightly against the inner wall of the sphere—the vibrant, roiling surface of living mana that had protected him, remade him, and birthed him anew.
He closed his eyes for a mont.
"Thank you."
No words spoken aloud. Just a thought. Quiet. Earnest. Real.
He hadn’t known the sphere could understand. But it did.
Because the mont that silent gratitude passed through his soul, the surface responded. A hum. Gentle. Resonant.
Then—he pushed.
Just a soft nudge.
No force. No strain.
And the cocoon unraveled.
But it didn’t shatter. It didn’t collapse or burst like glass. It dissolved.
A magnificent spiral of prismatic mana—colors he knew, and so he didn’t—unwound from the surface, lifting into the air in threads and swirls of light.
They danced. Not chaotically, but with purpose. Like they were alive. Like they were celebrating.
And then—like cots pulled into gravity—every strand of that light arced inward.
Toward him.
Leon didn’t move. He just stood there, eyes wide, breath still, as the streams of radiant mana plunged into his chest—straight into the core that now pulsed within him.
It wasn’t physical. Not quite. But it was real.
A crystalline sphere of bound energy, nested deep inside him, forged by his bond with the Orb of All-Elental Affinity. It had been glowing before.
But now?
It ignited.
The cocoon’s parting gift didn’t just settle into it—it supercharged it.
The mont the final tendrils vanished beneath his skin, the core expanded, not in shape, but in density. The light grew brighter, deeper, sharper. The swirl of elental affinities around it intensified—fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, ice, and more.
Dozens of threads. Dozens of truths. All feeding into him.
The chamber trembled. Not violently. But like it recognized what now stood in the center.
A convergence.
Not just a boy. Not just a fighter. But sothing new.
And Leon?
He took a single breath. Steady. Complete.
Then opened his hands.
Power humd along his fingertips. Mana curled at his back like a second cloak. The air bent slightly around him, responding to his presence.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. Didn’t move yet.
But in that mont, sothing else stirred—the creature on the throne.
Unseen by Leon, it had tried many tis to break that cocoon. With its hamr. With fire. With force that would have turned castles to rubble.
All of it had failed.
It hadn’t understood why.
But now, watching the light fade into Leon’s form, watching the way the room now bent around him—
It began to understand.
And it stood.
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