The talents Son of Wind and Son of Solar didn't just boost Link's affinity with elental energy—they also enhanced his ability to manipulate those energies and granted him corresponding buffs. anwhile, the Vitality Talent increased his own vitality and could even help others improve theirs. It was almost a healing-type talent, though it relied heavily on the recipient's own regenerative ability rather than external restoration.
As for the Devour talent, at first glance, it didn't seem all that impressive. But to Link, it was no less important than an SS-grade talent!
Because with the enhancent from Devour, he could consu and digest significantly more materials containing spiritual power. That directly translated into a massive acceleration in his strength progression.
To illustrate this—at his current level of strength, he could typically only use two psionic potions a day without overloading his system. But with Devour, that number skyrocketed to ten!
A fivefold increase in quantity ant his training efficiency would at least triple, if not more. The benefit was straightforward but ga-changing: the more psionic materials he consud, the faster he grew. And this talent allowed him to devour them at full speed.
But Link didn't stop there.
At last, his gaze fell upon the greatest prize of this round—the SS-grade talent known as Collapse!
This talent had exceeded all of his expectations in raw power. The mont Link awakened Collapse, he gained an innate understanding of how to wield it.
Collapse was a unique power—one that could be fused with his own body or attached to external objects via his will. It was destructive by nature, capable of breaking down matter and force alike.
Yet, it wasn't without drawbacks. Every ti Link channeled the Power of Collapse, his own body would endure so degree of backlash. The more he used it, the more severe the damage. That was the price.
Even so, Collapse was much more powerful than Link initially thought. According to Lib's description, at its pinnacle, the Power of Collapse could even distort ti and space.
Yes, Collapse could shatter the very fabric of reality. The only reason it wasn't classified as an SSS-grade talent or higher was that its full potential was shackled by the limitations of the user's physical body.
Still, for Link, the weakness wasn't much of a concern. If the damage to his body beca unbearable, he would simply reincarnate—no big deal.
With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Link took a deep breath and gathered his focus. He tucked away his excitent and began his daily training routine.
Roughly twelve hours passed before he finally snapped out of his ditative state. Judging from the ti, it was almost ti to set out.
His next destination? Rawfill—the perfect opponent to refine his combat techniques against.
After undergoing a brutal series of deaths—each one instructive—Link eventually decided to stop rewinding ti. He had absorbed enough of Rawfill's combat knowledge and techniques. Now, his priority was simple: continue climbing until he reached Tier-1 Esper status.
Three days later, Link walked out of his dormitory with silent resolve. His Power Values had now reached an astonishing 902, while his Mind Power had soared all the way to 985—just a hair's breadth away from crossing into Tier-1 territory.
At this pace, it wouldn't be long before he officially entered the elite circle of T1 Espers.
And yet, a problem gnawed at him.
Despite his overwhelming mind power, he lacked any offensive capability unless he leaned on talents. He had no way to initiate attacks purely through his ntal strength.
This had beco an urgent issue.
Even across the entirety of the human race, there were very few known thods of launching a pure mind power attack. Techniques in this field were scarce, bordering on nonexistent.
As for the moonfolk, they had a handful of races innately blessed with ntal-type talents—but those were so rare and powerful that most of their mbers were born as Tier-5 Espers or higher.
ssing with them? Not an option. Not unless you had a death wish.
Link shook his head, pushing away the headache. Even though his offensive shortcomings were frustrating, his improvents in raw strength were undeniably real and satisfying.
With his growth stabilizing, it was ti to focus on another front.
His first mission? Clear all the remaining D-rank missions he had taken on.
It didn't take long. In less than a single day, he had completed nine D-rank missions—a feat that left everyone around him stunned. His rit level was instantly upgraded to E-rank.
This opened a new door: from now on, Link could accept C-rank missions.
Despite the rapid progress, Link couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. For all the tasks he'd completed, he was still no closer to solving the core challenge of his Death Plan Phase II.
According to his blueprint, he still needed to secure two specific talents—but so far, he had only managed to get one.
The one he had acquired ca from the lionfolk—a relatively common A-grade talent. Yet its effect was surprisingly potent.
The core of the lionfolk talent was burning one's own life force. Once activated, it couldn't be interrupted. And though it was labeled A-grade, the raw Power Values boost it delivered bordered on S-grade strength.
It made sense. When one burned their own life down to the last ember, what remained was only death.
With this talent, Link now had both offensive and defensive options. More importantly, it addressed a major flaw in his death-reliant strategy—he could now choose to die or keep fighting, depending on the situation.
But the most critical flaw still lood.
What if Link got knocked unconscious?
In that state, he wouldn't be able to choose death manually, which could waste an enormous amount of ti and opportunity. That's why he needed the final piece of the puzzle—the second Phase II talent, and one that Lib had recomnded personally.
Its na: the S-grade talent: Life-Bound Pact.
The chanics of this talent were nothing short of fascinating. It allowed Link to form a contract with other living beings—either a Life Pact or a Death Pact.
A Life Pact was straightforward: Link could draw upon the life force of another creature if he were injured. However, the reverse wasn't true unless Link gave explicit permission. The life transfer was one-way—Link was the only beneficiary.
A Death Pact, on the other hand, was a darker variation. If Link were to die, the creature bound to him would die as well. But if the other party died first, Link could choose whether to follow them into death—or not.
Once Link acquired this talent, he would officially enter Phase III of his Death Plan—the final stage.
This last step was simultaneously simple and complex.
The key was locating a rare species known as the Cycle Wyrm.
These creatures were bizarre, to say the least. Every twelve hours, they would undergo a complete cycle of life and death. They would die once every half-day, only to be reborn shortly after.
After reviving, they would start life anew—from larva to adult—before dying again. And the cycle would repeat endlessly.
If Link could forge a Death Pact with one of these creatures, he'd have a perfect safeguard.
Every twelve hours, the Cycle Wyrm would "die," and Link would be prompted to decline death. That was it. As long as he remained conscious and actively refused to follow the Wyrm into death, he could go on living without issue.
But if he were ever knocked out or incapacitated—unable to refuse?
Then death would claim him automatically, alongside the Wyrm.
And that would complete Link's Death Plan once and for all—no more loopholes, no more flaws. Every contingency accounted for. Every bug patched.
His cycle of death, rebirth, and growth would be perfectly seamless.
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