"Ahhhh!!!"
After his soul was reconstituted, Alan felt a piercing, excruciating pain throughout his soul, prompting an agonized scream that would make anyone's skin crawl.
However, he soon forced himself to bear the pain and began to examine his transford soul form.
After being shattered and reshaped by the Soul Grindstone, his previously intangible soul had shrunk significantly.
Yet, it had also condensed, appearing now as a thin, transparent veil.
Although still fragile, it was no longer undetectable as before.
Moreover, because of this profound transformation, Alan noticed a faint resonance with the magical elents in the air around him.
With a shift of his thoughts, the elental forces nearest to him beca excited, swayed by the influence of his gossar-like soul.
"So this is what it feels like for a magus to control mana? It's an incredible feeling, drifting within this sea of elents." Alan murmured with a hint of amazent.
"You now have enough soul strength to cast so spells. You should try to find that connection. If you succeed, it will greatly benefit you," said the woman in black robes calmly. "But rember, your soul is still too fragile. You can't undergo Soul Grindstone tempering too many tis each day."
Alan nodded and then began using the Infernal Visualization Technique.
By resonating his soul with the surrounding elents, he attempted to perform so basic spells. However, having had no previous magus training, he found it extrely challenging to achieve resonance with the elents.
It was akin to trying to control a rampaging bull, utterly resistant to following any predefined spell trajectory.
Despite the difficulty, as Alan continued to explore and familiarize himself with elental power, he gradually grew more proficient.
A simple fireball spell, after many failed attempts, finally materialized before him.
In the dimness of hell, the bright fla flickered, radiating a steady warmth and light.
This fireball spell was entirely different from those fueled by internal mana.
As the fireball appeared, elental forces in the air surged toward it, amplifying its power continuously.
Within monts, as Alan's ntal strength reached its limit, the fireball—originally the size of a fist—had grown, with the surrounding elents supporting it until it swelled to the size of a house.
The light and heat it emitted caused the air to ripple as if boiling under intense heat.
The mana fluctuations within the fireball were so volatile and intense that they struck fear into the heart, like a tightly compressed volcano on the verge of eruption.
Alan had a strong feeling that even a tier-iron level 9 mage would be severely injured or even killed by a direct hit from this massive fireball.
The next instant, as his soul grew unbearably weak, Alan dispersed the elental forces of the fireball, breathing heavily.
The spell's terrifying power had taken a toll on him, placing an unprecedented burden on his soul.
Had he maintained this large fireball any longer, his soul would have been drained, leading him to collapse into unconsciousness.
"No wonder magi are said to be unbeatable at the sa tier. Being able to directly manipulate the elents around them…this level of power is terrifying! And the speed at which spells can be conjured is incredible, offering a significant advantage for surprise attacks!"
Having wielded a magus's spell, Alan now had a deeper understanding of what it ant to be a magus.
He was only a tier-iron level 7, but with magus abilities, he felt confident in taking on even a tier-iron level 8 mage.
Against a level 9 mage, he might even be able to hold his own or at the very least wound them.
These were feats he never would have dread of before, as the level gap was substantial.
Previously, he'd relied solely on extensive combat experience and the potent potions his sister had prepared for him from a young age to strengthen his body.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have survived the seneschal's assault or the rounds of skirmishes with other nobles over mining rights.
But now, with the formidable soul power of a magus, he could bridge the nearly insurmountable gap between levels.
And this was only his first step into the magus realm!
Alan couldn't help but feel awe. Magi were indeed revered, a dream for countless people.
Their combat strength was truly terrifying!
After Alan completed the fireball spell, the woman in black robes, watching his excitent, spoke flatly:
"Although you've touched the threshold of being a magus, you're still just a low-level magus apprentice. Advancing further won't be easy."
Hearing this, Alan's smile faded slightly.
While he had just entered the magus path, he knew that William, being of the special Hellfire bloodline and backed by individuals like the seneschal, was no ordinary mage.
When the ti for a life-or-death duel ca, his current strength might still be insufficient.
"Senior, is there any way to increase my strength quickly?" Alan asked again.
"There is a way. You only need to amplify the power of the Soul Grindstone, but be warned, the pain will also intensify."
Alan's mouth twitched.
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The excruciating pain from the previous Soul Grindstone session was etched deeply in his mory; just recalling it made him shudder and recoil from the thought of enduring it again.
But after a brief hesitation, he clenched his fists and nodded.
"Please, I want to test my limits."
….
anwhile, in an opulent palace, the seneschal swirled a glass of red wine, a gleeful smile spreading across his aged face as he stared at the Seventh Elder, Forse, who had just arrived with a report.
"You're sure the shadow assassin struck Alan in the abdon? His mana stone is shattered?"
Forse, a portly middle-aged man, replied obsequiously, "Seneschal, I'm absolutely certain! Not only did so from House Roan witness it, but other nobles did too. Alan is now a broken mana core—a re waste!"
"Good, good, good!" The seneschal laughed wildly, downing his blood-red wine with satisfaction.
Alan had commanded a degree of respect in House Roan through years of warfare, but now his accumulated reputation would vanish in an instant!
With this, William's succession would be irrefutable.
"The fall of a forr genius into nothingness... how delightful! I can't wait to see what Alan has left to challenge my grandson in the death duel in a month!"
Forse chid in with a greedy smile. "Seneschal, Alan is worthless now, but his sister, though frail, is rather attractive…"
The seneschal waved his hand dismissively. "She's a sickly girl. Do as you please, even if it ans you play her to death. It doesn't matter."
...
As dusk settled, Alan finally endured the intensified Soul Grindstone, with his soul now closer than ever to tier-iron level 8.
His mastery over the surrounding elents was also steadily improving, bringing him closer to the level of a magus with each passing day.
Noting the late hour, Alan reluctantly dragged his exhausted body out of hell, feeling almost reborn through the constant pain.
In this world where the strong prey on the weak, only absolute power would allow him to act freely.
Just as Alan left hell, he spotted Isabella entering the room, holding her swollen face.
"Brother!" Isabella called out, her gaze evasive as she forced a smile through the stinging pain on her face.
"What happened?" Alan's eyes flashed with anger as he noticed the fresh handprint on Isabella's face, his expression filled with concern. "Who did this?!"
Isabella shook her head quickly, saying, "Brother, it's nothing…"
"Isabella, don't worry. I'll handle this. Just tell what happened," Alan pressed.
After hesitating briefly, Isabella pouted in grievance. "I hurriedly left behind a potion I'd prepared for you in the Virtue Pavilion, so I went back to retrieve it. But as I approached, the deputy butler ordered to leave and even struck . We'd been nothing but kind to him before…"
"Deputy Butler Roosevelt!" Alan's eyes blazed with murderous intent, and the elental forces around him stirred with fury.
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