Three days had passed since I locked myself in my dorm room, repeating the cycle of dying and reviving.
Through countless experints, I had discovered a few key facts. First, dying and resurrecting endlessly did not result in infinite mana growth; second, once my mana increased after a resurrection, it would remain stagnant for approximately six hours; third, by dying and reviving up to four tis a day, the mana gained far exceeded what could be accumulated through conventional breathing techniques.
I looked down at my notebook and checked the records of all my experints from the past three days. “Damn! This is insane.”
A satisfied smile crept across my face. Who would have thought I could solve the mana problem that had held back in my past life with such an absurd thod? However, it wasn’t exactly the most conventional approach.
Every six hours, I had to take my own life for my mana to increase. No matter how I tried to rationalize it, this was anything but normal.
“So basically, I wake up in the morning and die; eat lunch and die; eat dinner and die; and finally, die one last ti before going to bed?” Even saying it out loud made feel like I had lost my mind.
Holy shit!Well, what choice do I have?
It wasn’t like I could cultivate mana through ordinary ans. Had this been my previous life, Iris would’ve caught and beaten bloody for even considering such a thing. But now, there was no one left to scold for treating my life so carelessly.
I pushed down the fleeting desire to hear her reprimand one more ti and refocused my thoughts. I was a little worried about whether constantly using this thod would wear down or erase my soul stigmata.
Isn’t the original power of the Primordial Fla ant to consu and destroy the soul stigmata?
For so reason, my soul stigmata had remained intact even after absorbing the Primordial Fla. But if I continue to draw power from it like this, will it eventually disappear along with the Blessing of Resurrection contained within it?
I thoroughly checked the soul stigmata engraved on my left chest. Nothing seems to have changed for now.
The soul stigmata was still intact, without a single sign of wearing down or damage. The Blessing of Resurrection within it was functioning as usual, bringing back from death without fail.
The irony of my situation was almost laughable. I let out a short chuckle, shaking my head. I endured so much suffering just to achieve death, yet I was worried about losing the very blessing that stopped from dying.
Still, at least one thing was certain: the Primordial Fla had not destroyed the Blessing of Resurrection within my soul stigmata.
If I can keep increasing my mana like this, I can reach heights far beyond my past life.
Then, I could protect those I had failed to protect and save those I had failed to save. I would no longer have to lose anyone ever again.
Before the mories of my past life could surface any further, I opened my eyes. “Alright, now that I’ve secured a solid foundation...”
It was ti to acquire a powerful weapon.
A weapon, huh.
I sifted through my past life’s mories, searching for sothing useful. It needed to be sothing I could obtain quickly and wield effectively, such as ancient relics or divine artifacts imbued with the power of the gods.
A few artifacts I had sought across the continent in my past life ca to mind, but all of them were either too difficult to obtain or beyond my current capabilities.
Even if I got my hands on one, I wouldn’t be able to use it properly.
The more powerful an artifact, the greater the mastery required to wield it. Right now, aside from my mories, I was practically a blank slate. Even if I managed to acquire such a relic through sheer effort, I would most probably not be able to utilize it effectively.
I tried to think of sothing useful again. A weapon that I can obtain quickly and that provides an imdiate boost in power...
One thing ca to mind imdiately: A Soul Stigmata Amplifier Potion.
It was a potion that allowed a soul stigmata to overexert itself, temporarily granting its user imnse power. For soone like , who had always suffered from a lack of mana, it had been nothing short of a godsend.
I don’t know if calling this a weapon is quite right, but... in terms of sheer effectiveness, it outclasses most artifacts, so I suppose the label doesn’t matter.
Naturally, its side effects were extre. Even a single dose twisted the body’s energy flow, and taking it repeatedly could lt one’s internal organs, sotis leading to death.
“Well, that’s not really a problem for .” I smirked, glancing down at the soul stigmata on my chest. “Now that I have a plan, it’s ti to get moving.”
In my previous life, the person who had created the Soul Stigmata Amplifier Potion was a hero who had played a pivotal role in the war against the demons. Currently, though, that person was in Reynald Hero Academy, the very academy I was in right now.
***
In the faculty office of the Warrior Division, Professor Kane looked at with a gaze that practically scread, “What kind of trouble are you up to this ti?”
“You want to et Professor Bastion?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
Jayden Bastion was the continent’s foremost authority on soul stigmata research.
“Why Professor Bastion, all of a sudden? He’s a research professor, so there should be no reason for a cadet to seek him out,” said Professor Kane.
“I’d like to consult him regarding my future path.”
“Professor Bastion is part of the Mage Division.”
“Soul stigmata research is open to all divisions, isn’t it?”
“Career counseling, huh. With Professor Bastion?” Professor Kane’s gaze darkened, and his sharp, beast-like eyes locked onto . “You do know what people call him around here, don’t you?”
“Of course. How could I not?”
No matter how much ti had passed, how could I possibly forget the infamous Disciple Slayer?
“And yet, you still want to et him?” Professor Kane asked.
“Aren’t they just rumors? That Professor Bastion killed his student?”
“Rumors, my ass.” Professor Kane scowled openly. This wasn’t just students gossiping behind a professor’s back; this was coming from another faculty mber. That alone said everything.
“Two years ago, it was none other than Professor Bastion himself who went around bragging that he killed a cadet nad Oscar,” he explained.
“But the investigation concluded it was an accident during a research experint, didn’t it?” I replied.
“That’s only because he’s a Bastion!” Professor Kane slamd his fist onto his desk, his face twisting in anger. “Even if it really was an accident, a professor shouldn’t act like that!”
His massive fists trembled, his voice thick with fury. “Do you know what that bastard did at Oscar’s grave? Huh? I heard him with my own ears mocking his dead student, calling him a brainless fool!”
“And did you just stand there and listen? Didn’t you punch Professor Bastion square in the face for that? Got yourself suspended, too,” I said.
“I—uh, well... That’s...” Professor Kane cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was young then.”
“Haha. You say that like it was twenty years ago, Professor.”
“Shut it, brat!” Professor Kane roared and tried kicking at my shin.
I casually stepped aside, dodging the strike.
“You...” Professor Kane narrowed his beast-like eyes. “How the hell did you change so much overnight?”
“I ca back from the future.”
“Bullshit!”
No, really. I did co back from the future. This is unfair, I thought.
“Y-you didn’t, I don’t know, make a deal with the Demon God or sothing, did you?” Professor Kane asked.
“You know full well that heroes who have awakened the soul stigmata of the Seven Gods cannot turn into demons.”
Professor Kane clicked his tongue and narrowed his eyes, as if still trying to make sense of .
Though, there was one small lie I told him: Even a hero could make a contract with the Demon God and beco a demon.
It couldn’t happen now, of course. That would only beco possible in the future, when the seal on the Demon God weakened. However, there was no need to stir up unnecessary misunderstandings now.
“Well, whatever. Even if you’re on suspension, there’s no rule saying you can’t et with other professors. I’ll write you a letter of introduction. Go ahead,” Professor Kane said.
“Thank you.”
“Hmph. Go get yourself killed for all I care.” With clear displeasure on his face, Professor Kane scrawled out a hasty letter of introduction.
I took it from him, turned to leave the office, and opened the door. But just as I was about to step outside, his voice, laced with concern, stopped for a mont. “If anything happens, co straight to .”
I chuckled softly and nodded. Seriously, this man!
For soone with such a rough appearance, he sure had a soft side.
***
Professor Bastion’s laboratory was tucked away in one of the most secluded corners of the academy. The campus was massive, so most cadets probably didn’t even know this place existed.
I rapped my knuckles against the tightly shut door, but there was no response despite knocking multiple tis. So, I knocked harder. “Professor Bastion. I know you’re in there.”
After a mont of silence, the door slowly creaked open. A thick, putrid stench imdiately wafted out. Peering inside, I saw a laboratory so filthy it might as well have been an abandoned haunted house.
A frail-looking old man peered out from the barely opened door. Deep wrinkles covered his gaunt face, and his skin was dotted with age spots. His long white hair was very greasy as if it hadn’t been washed in days, and he wore a robe so tattered it wasn’t even fit to be used as a rag. He was exactly as I rembered.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“My na is Dale Han, a third-year cadet from the Warrior Division,” I replied.
“And what do you want?”
“I’m interested in your research, Professor. Here, a letter of introduction from Professor Kane.”
Professor Bastion took the letter and suddenly scoffed. His shoulders began to shake. “You’re interested... in my research?”
“Yes. Specifically, in potions that influence the soul stigmata.”
Professor Bastion let out a twisted, eerie laugh, like so demonic monster that had received the blessing of the Demon God and succumbed to madness. “You. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Heh, hehheh, heheheheh! And yet, you still want to be part of my research?” Drool dribbled down his lips as he laughed maniacally.
The next mont, he swung the door wide open with a bang and grabbed roughly by the collar. With crazed, glistening eyes, he leaned in close and whispered in a low, sinister voice, “You’re going to die.”
I smirked. “Ah, is that so?”
I’d like to see you try.
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