In the dense forest at the edge of the castle, rotten leaves crunched with a series of dull, muffled cracks underfoot.

  “That layer of skin hasn’t been fully peeled yet. It still needs time.”

  Ian’s voice slithered out from the shadows like a venomous snake. He still wore the black cloak that carried a faint scent of blood. With a casual toss, he threw over a heavy bundle of parchment scrolls bound with coarse hemp rope.

  “This is the foundation you’ll need to stay alive from now on. It contains the common knowledge of those ‘transcendents’—the school marks of wizards, the breathing rhythms of knights, and the locations of those lofty academies.” Ian bared a mouth of jagged teeth in an utterly sinister grin. “Del, within this territory you’re a young lord, but step outside and, without this knowledge, any wandering wizard apprentice could reduce you to a puddle of pus. As for your identity, that can’t be rushed. It requires ‘creating’ a dead man in the empire’s archives.”

  Del caught the bundle. The instant his fingertips touched it, the chip’s mechanical voice sounded in his mind:

  “Detected large volume of text and image data. Initiating database entry: General Wizardry Knowledge, Rudimentary Great Cross Knight Breathing Method, Basic Heraldry…”

  “Burn it once you’ve read it.” Ian’s figure began retreating, gradually vanishing into the mist. “Next week I’ll bring new developments. Until then, don’t die in some accident.”

  Del weighed the heavy bundle of knowledge in his hand, showing no excessive elation. He knew that on this continent, knowledge and deadly poison were often one and the same.

  Back in his bedroom, Del locked the door, spread the scrolls across the long table. Red light from the chip flickered rapidly across his retina, dissecting the obscure Latin terms and recoding them directly into his brain.

  He turned to a page on alchemical pharmacology, which recorded several crude purification techniques. To ordinary people these formulas were extremely dangerous, but to Del—with the chip—they were perfectly optimized experimental data.

  “Chip, retrieve current physical stats and run a strength augmentation simulation against the alchemical protocols.”

  Host current stats:

  Strength: 1.4 (baseline adult male: 1.0)

  Agility: 1.2

  Constitution: 1.3

  Spirit: 1.8

  “Task initiated. Using residual potency of ‘Blue Shoot’ combined with ‘Fire Tongue Grass’ for secondary recombination. Projected strength increase: 0.35 points. Side effects calculated: due to absence of neutralizing solvent, severe intestinal peristalsis (diarrhea) and localized cavernous body hyperemia (potent aphrodisiac effect).”

  Del stared at the row of red side-effect warnings, a cold, wry curve touching his lips.

  “In a world without even basic sanitation, the pursuit of power is indeed hard to make elegant.”

  Without hesitation, he retrieved the herbs he had gathered the night before, crushed them into a paste with his hands, mixed it with dry black bread, and swallowed it down. The medicinal sludge slid down his throat like a ball of molten lava. Barely five minutes later, knife-like cramps wracked his gut, drawing fine beads of sweat across his forehead.

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  Dawn.

  Del walked toward the castle gate carrying the lingering scent of blood and a face slightly pale from the drug’s side effects. He needed to venture into the mountains for higher-grade materials; ordinary herbs could no longer satisfy the chip’s appetite.

  “Young Master Del!”

  A timid voice called from the side. It was Maggie, lugging a suitcase, accompanied by several equally frightened maids—among them Cyril.

  “What is it?” Del stopped, his tone lazy. Residual drug effects had flushed his skin an unnatural deep red, lending him an extra air of menace.

  “Lord Wald just sent word—the silver mine is short-handed, and all us newcomers have to go with the convoy…” Maggie’s eyes were rimmed red, her voice trembling. “I’ve heard it’s been unsafe there lately. Young master… will we ever come back?”

  Del looked at her. The chip instantly analyzed her irregular heartbeat caused by extreme fear.

  “Bring your dagger.” He offered no cheap comfort, only calm advice. “The mine area isn’t peaceful. If anyone tries to drag you into the woods, don’t hesitate—go straight for the throat.”

  He pulled a vial of pale purple liquid from his pocket and tossed it to her—a highly corrosive residue from a failed alchemy attempt.

  “Keep this. If things get unbearable at the mine, find a chance to slip away. A dead maid is of no value to me—understand?”

  Maggie caught the warm little bottle in a daze. She sensed that this young master had changed; his calm, ruthless composure somehow gave her a sliver of courage to survive in these chaotic times.

  Deep in the forest.

  “Target detected: low-tier magical beast ‘Shadow Cat.’ Agility estimate: 1.8. Strength estimate: 1.2.”

  Del lay prone among the bushes, his body fully merged with the tree shadows. The drug’s potency still surged wildly within him; abdominal cramps nearly made him grind his teeth to dust, while the untimely heat kept every muscle on the brink of explosion.

  Hiss!

  The shadow cat became a black streak, leaping through the air.

  “Jump back—shift left three inches—reverse side slash.” The chip’s instructions flashed instantly.

  Del executed them almost mechanically. His cross-shaped sword carved a cold arc through the air, precisely severing the beast’s throat while it was unable to change direction mid-pounce.

  Thud.

  The black corpse rolled to the ground. Del stepped forward quickly, expertly prying open the base of the shadow cat’s cervical vertebrae with his sword tip. Amid the bloody mess, a thumbnail-sized crystal emitting a dark red glow emerged.

  “Energy aggregate detected. Database match: **Level-1 Magical Beast Blood Core**.”

  Del grasped the blood core, feeling a violent, unstable surge of magical power rush from his fingertips straight into his brain. This low-tier beast core was the primal form of transcendent power in this world.

  Late at night, in the bedroom.

  The candle had burned to its stub. Del sat bare-chested, chest and abdomen glistening with sweat. The potion’s side effects had peaked, yet he had no intention of stopping.

  He sat cross-legged on the floor, the incomplete sword manual inherited from the Rio family laid out before him.

  “Chip, using the blood core as energy medium, initiate full-data assisted training. Force integration of sword manual memory with reflex circuits.”

  He pressed the dark-red-glowing blood core firmly against his forehead. In an instant, a tyrannical shockwave swept through his sea of consciousness; the chip buzzed like an overclocked machine inside his skull.

  In a dark virtual space, a sword-wielding silhouette began to dance frantically. The chip pushed every mechanical fulcrum and breathing rhythm from the manual to the absolute limit of compatibility with Del’s current physical data. Moves that had been stiff now gained a strange, eerie rhythm under the blood core’s infusion.

  The thorn-encircled eagle emblem on the manual seemed to glow faintly—an awakened power.

  “Fusion progress: 40%… 70%… 100%!”

  When the last trace of blood core energy was drained, the crystal crumbled instantly to powder. Del’s eyes snapped open, bloodshot and fierce. The sudden leap in ability had clearly taken a toll on his body.

  Current physical stats:

  Strength: 1.75 (potion bonus + blood core feedback)

  Agility: 1.5

  Constitution: 1.5

  Spirit: 2.3

  Del felt the exhaustion in his gut and the lingering nervous excitement from the drug’s impact—a sensation of depletion yet undeniable mastery over newfound power.

  He slowly walked to the window and gazed out at the pitch-black mountains.

  In this world, he had finally glimpsed a path to claw his way upward.