Lilian exhaled softly, foggy breath painting the air. A faint shiver ran through her as she opened her eyes, looking down at her arms with amazed eyes. Beside her, Solara took a moment longer, her wings unfurling slightly before her eyelids fluttered open.

The ambient hum of cultivation energy faded away, leaving only the distant sounds of the forest—birds chirping and the rustle of wind against leaves. They seemed to be done for the day.

I watched them both from where I was leaning against the tree, playing with a little bird that had landed on my shoulder earlier. Seeing the others awake, it flew off, and my gaze focused on their expressions. They looked almost dazed like they’d just awakened from a deep dream. Slowly, they stood, brushing the dirt off their clothes.

“Good evening,” I said.

“Evening already?” Solara asked as she stretched her arms high above her head, her wings moving in tandem, while Lilian rolled her shoulders, her eyes snapping at me.

“Yes. Well?” I raised an eyebrow, a slight smile touching my lips. “How do you feel?”

Solara looked at me and then slowly stared down at her hands, flexing her fingers. Her expression was caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief. “Earlier today, I was Level 28,” she said, her tone as if she needed to confirm it with herself. “I had 3450 Mana Points then. I leveled up after we killed those Frogmen, and that got me to Level 29—with 3580 Mana Points. So, that’s an increase of 130 points.” She paused, glancing back up at me, her eyes full of wonder. “But after cultivating, my mana is now at 3640. That's 60 points more—nearly half the increase of a full level-up! That’s crazy, Iskandaar.”

Lilian crackled weirdly, flashing her teeth. “So you’re saying we can actually gain this much each time?” She looked at me, suspicion flashing her eyes alongside curiosity. “Hey, are you sure this isn’t some cheap trick? What if the System punishes us for it?”

“No trick,” I shrugged and stepped away from the tree. “It’s Cultivation. And the results depend on the energy around you, your focus, and your affinity. If all conditions are met, it can be this effective. If not, well… results vary.”

Solara let out a small laugh. “This is more than just effective,” she said, her fiery aura flaring slightly. “If I can grow like this every time, then… I mean, in no time, I’d be—”

“You’d be reaching heights you never thought possible,” I said, cutting in smoothly. And she’d get that much closer to her revenge. “But only if you’re smart about it. This isn’t something that works just this fine anywhere. The right environment can make all the difference.” I gestured towards Solara. “For you, it means heat—a source of fire. For example, that can be a good blaze, volcanic steam, or even sunlight at its strongest, which can fuel your cultivation.”

“Oh, oh, and me?” Lilian asked, almost jumping.

“Are you intentionally acting dumb?” I asked, shooting her a look. “The answer is the moon. You have the lunar affinity, and so you need moonlight to maximize your gains. The fuller the moon, the better. Out in the open, under a clear sky, you’ll thrive. In the eastern continent, as well as Murim, there’s also something called the Yin Affinity. It’s similar to darkness affinity, with some differences. Such as that it’s cold to the touch. And by most people in the other world, the moon is considered a radiator of Yin Affinity. So you might also thrive in areas with ice and dark energy. Not sure. Have to make practical attempts.”

A small grin played on Lilian’s lips. “Alright. Moonlight Cultivation… hehe. Sounds fun.”

Solara nodded, a smile of her own forming, though hers was softer. “I am still having a hard time believing all this, even though I can feel it in my body. But I can’t argue with the results.”

“Yep. Now hunt around a bit more. We booked the teleportation circle for 48 hours, and it’ll call us back when it’s time. Can’t waste these precious hours,” I told them, my eyes glinting as I looked between them.

They glanced at each other and then back at me. Then, we moved deeper into the forest. We found more monsters, spilled more blood, and roamed around until the sun set and rose twice in a row.

The time soon came, as our bodies lit up bright with mana, turning into blocks of magic, our worlds going white before we found ourselves back at the academy’s magic circle.

****

We returned to the dorms. Solara went to her own room, where Lilian and I headed to our attached one. After getting refreshed, I decided it was time to leave the house. Two days had passed since the encounter with Victor Seraph, and I couldn’t waste any more time buying that item.

“Lilian, I’m heading out,” I called over my shoulder, already halfway to the door. The smell of freshly brewed tea filled the air—she was in the kitchen, brewing tea for herself since I’d already had mine.

“H-huh?! Wait, wait!” Her voice rang out before I could reach the handle. There was a clatter, then the soft patter of her hurried steps. “I’m coming too!”

Did she just break a cup? I paused, sighing internally, turning just as she skidded to a stop before me, eyes alight with that unyielding insistence. “Why? If you need something, I can just buy them for you.”

“No? I’m bored. And I don’t trust you wandering around by yourself.” She crossed her arms, her ears twitching. “You’re the young master—and you’re a cripple,” she said. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if she was insulting me or not. “If someone tries something, don’t I need to have your back?”

“Yeah. I’m defenseless, right?” I shook my head. Her lips quirked into a grin—a playful, knowing grin that said she had no intention of backing off.

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders in exaggerated surrender. “Fine, but if you’re tagging along, we’re making a detour first.”

“A detour?” Her head tilted, ears flicking.

“Nebula,” I said, already reaching for the door. She frowned. “If I’m buying things in the market, might as well take her along—she needs to buy a wand or staff. Now, she has the money for it."

Lilian’s brow furrowed, her expression shifting, curiosity mingling with something else, something unreadable. “Alright then, let’s go.” Together, we left the room and made our way through the winding halls of the dormitory.

A few students were milling about in this S-rank Class hallway, and even they faded into the background as we reached Nebula’s place. I rapped on the door twice, sharp but polite. Instead of Nebula, her maid Mirella opened it.

Despite her wrinkles, the gray-haired woman’s posture still carried that formality one would expect from someone serving an aristocratic house. “Ah, young master,” she greeted, bowing slightly. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Nebula. Is she inside?” I asked. “I was heading out and thought she might want to join.”

Mirella’s eyes softened, her expression dipping with a hint of regret. “I apologize, young master, but Lady Nebula is unwell. She’s been feeling sick and has requested not to meet anyone for the day.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Sick? Is it serious?”

Mirella shook her head, offering a gentle smile. I caught a hint of worry in her eyes, but her words were light. “Nothing too concerning, just fatigue. She needs rest, I believe. She will be fine soon.”

“Alright. Pass along my regards, then.” I nodded, stepping back. “We’ll leave her be.”

“Thank you, young master. I will.” With that, Mirella closed the door, leaving me and Lilian alone in the corridor once again.

Lilian shot me a curious look as we turned away. “She’s sick, huh?”

“Seems like it,” I said, shrugging. “Well, we can do nothing about it if she’s resting. We’ll come to visit her later. Let’s go.” We left the grand building and left the academy grounds.

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The marketplace was bustling, packed with people, stalls overflowing with everything from herbs to weaponry, and the air filled with a bluster of voices. Lilian and I pushed through the crowd while colorful canopies flapped in the breeze as shopkeepers shouted about their wares.

“Alright,” I said, stopping near a vendor selling trinkets. “We’re splitting up here. I need to grab something from that Skill Store over there, and you’re getting ink and paper.”

Lilian frowned, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. “Why can’t I just come with you? What are you buying?”

“Well, it’s a Skill Store. People sell Skills there,” I said in a matter-of-fact voice. They didn’t sell any super strong or unique skills, but sometimes there were useful ones. That was what I was here for today.

“I’ve never been to a Skill Store before. Come on, take me with you.”

I wasn’t having that. “Another time. You’ll see what I buy soon enough. Besides, it’s nothing you’d be interested in. Ink and paper, Lilian—important stuff.”

She huffed, crossing her arms but relented after a moment. “Fine, but you’ll explain everything later. No secrets.”

“Of course,” I said, already turning away, waving over my shoulder. “No secrets.”

The Skill Store was a grand establishment spread over a larger building. Its windows displayed shimmering stones, each of them glowing faintly with the System’s magic sealed within. I pushed open the door, the soft chime of a bell announcing my entrance.

The shopkeeper was bald, his eyes sharp as they flicked up from the counter where he’d been scribbling something down. He offered a tight-lipped smile, nodding in greeting. “How can I help you?”

As the man asked that, my eyes instinctively went to my Status Page. It’d been a while since I’d last looked at it, and it looked better than ever after the last two days of hunting.

°°°°°

Name: Iskandaar Romani

Age: 19 years

Race: Human

Qi: 8910/8910

Level: 45 | 11% EXP

Class: Myth Slayer

Class Level: [2/10]

Class Skills:

- Mythrend [Active]

- Void Step [Active]

- Soul Sever [Active]

- Legendbreaker [Passive]

- Veil of the Slayer [Passive]

- Astral Rend [Active]

General Skills:

- The Heavenly Demon Skill Tree [28.32%]

- Insight [Intermediate]

- Swordsmanship [Intermediate]

- Kickboxing [Master]

- Inner Focus [Intermediate]

- Mana Manipulation [Master]

“...I need a skill stone,” I said, stepping closer to the counter. The numbers were good, but due to my crippling state, I couldn’t fully implement them. It was time to fix that. “Something specific.”

…..

When Lilian and I returned to the dorms, she basically threw herself onto the nearest chair, the ink and paper she’d bought almost spilling across the table. “Oh, oops.”

I shot her a side-long look, and she cleared her throat. She quickly sat straight, taking hold of a pen and paper. “Alright, alright… You said you want a letter written? Tell me the contents.”

“No need for that.” I shook my head, stepping closer to the table. “Move for a second.”

She gave me a questioning look, brow furrowing, but scooted over to let me take her place. “Why? You can’t write with your left hand. What are you…?” Her voice trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the small stone I pulled from my pocket. “What is that? …Ah, a Skill Stone!”

I nodded, holding the stone between my thumb and forefinger, the light catching on its surface. “Yes, a Skill Stone.”

“What skill?” she pressed, leaning in closer, her curiosity palpable. “What is it?”

I didn’t answer. No need to. Instead, I broke the stone, the sharp crack filling the room, and I felt the familiar pulse of magic, the energy wrapping around my arm and sinking into my skin. I closed my eyes, focusing, feeling the shift—the activation.

[You’ve absorbed a Skill Stone!]

[Skill ‘Phantom Hand’ has been registered.]

A shimmer of light rippled along my forearm, almost imperceptible but luminous. Then, I could see the translucent, spectral outline of a hand extending from the stump where my right arm had once been.

Lilian’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. “What the—?”

I reached for the pen on the table, and near-invisible fingers closed around it, lifting it easily. I grinned at her stunned expression. “It’s called [Phantom Hand],” I said, feeling the pen twirl easily. “It was originally just a simple mana punch technique. But with my level of Mana Manipulation, I can use it like this. Like a real hand. Convenient, isn’t it?”

Lilian stared as she leaned from my back, gazing down from my shoulder. Her shock had morphed into awe. “That’s… insane. You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, still smirking.

The sound of pen against paper filled the room, with Lilian still staring, her eyes flicking between my arm and my face. I felt invisible muscles move in the phantom region of my arm, and although it wasn’t exactly the real thing, this would do for now.

Of course, I could always regrow the real thing at any time by attaining the 5th Stage of the Heavenly Demon Body. But that meant I wouldn’t be able to attend the academy anymore. So until then… this was my friend.

****

The Three-Brained Scholar worked feverishly over his cauldron. The darkened room was filled with thick, pungent steam that twisted through the air, blurring his surroundings. Glass vials were scattered across the table, and some were filled with glowing liquids, others empty but stained, and his hands moved between them in a well-practiced rhythm.

“Haah,” he sighed. He hadn’t slept for—how long? He had stopped counting after the third night. He couldn't bother with such luxuries, not when he was this close to perfecting the damn new brew. If this was a success… then he’d be a step closer.

His thoughts buzzed in three different directions—one focused on the measurements, another calculating the reactions, and the third desperately reminding him that sleep would be quite helpful in an attempt this intense. He ignored that third voice.

The bubbling potion in front of him started to reach the final stages, the color shifting slowly to the perfect shade of emerald green. Almost there…

He reached for a vial of powdered silver leaf, his hand steady even though the rest of his body felt like collapsing. He had to be. Any mistake, any slight movement, could cause this whole thing to collapse. Just one more step—

— KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

The abrupt noise shattered his focus. His hand jerked, and the vial tipped over, spilling its contents into the cauldron simultaneously. His eyes widened. “No, no, no—!”

The cauldron let out a hissing shriek, steam bursting upwards, enveloping him in a cloud of acrid smoke before boom — it exploded in a burst of green mist. He stumbled back, letting out a strangled yelp, blinking as the room spun. The world returned to focus, the acrid smell of failure wafting through the air. His hair stood on end, singed at the edges, and a splotch of emerald clung to his face.

“Dammit,” he muttered, wiping at the green mess with his sleeve. “Dammit, dammit, dammit all!” He turned towards the door, scowling. Whoever dared to disrupt him had better have a death wish.

“This better be good,” he grumbled under his breath, stomping his way to the door. He didn’t know who it was knocking at his door in this goddamn forest, but they’d wish they hadn’t ever knocked. He swung it open, prepared to unleash a string of curses, but—

Nobody. Nothing. Just an empty doorway, the forest beyond it eerily silent under the shadows of the Wraithwoods. He frowned, looking down, and there he found something. A letter. A simple envelope was lying on his doorstep, the paper crispy and clean against the dirt.

“A letter?” He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, his frown deepening. “Who or what dropped a letter in the goddamned Wraithwoods?”

He glanced around, the woods quiet as ever, then closed the door, leaning against it as he tore open the envelope, unfolding the letter inside. Hopefully, it’s not the Emperor. His eyes skimmed over the words, irritation, and nervousness giving way to curiosity.

He read the contents aloud, his voice raspy from disuse.

“Dear Scholar,

I hope this letter finds you in good health—or at least as well as one can be in a doomed place like Wraithwoods. When are you leaving that shitty hut? I hear the winter is harsher this year, though I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle. I’m only writing to ask about your whereabouts during the coming cold. Perhaps consider moving somewhere a little less haunted? I hear Crownswatch isn’t too bad this time of year.

Advice from a young man, take it easy. Life isn’t only about chasing after that singular goal of yours. Sometimes, you need to breathe, step away, and remind yourself what it means to be alive. Just a thought, from one overly driven person to another.

Your friend, Iskandaar Romani

Dated: 8th December, Year 1807 of the Celestial Aetherion Calendar.”

The Scholar paused, his eyes catching on that date. “8th December…” That was a day after the prophesied date—the date that brat was supposed to die.

Somehow, that fool… no, that brat had tricked death.

The letter shook in his hand, and a disbelieving grin tugged at his lips. He stared at the neat signature at the bottom, a huff escaping his chest, and then he laughed. He laughed until his sides ached, his voice echoed in the small room, and the bitter scent of failure in the air seemed almost humorous.

“Of course you did,” he said between breaths, his laughter fading into a chuckle. He wiped a tear from his eye, shaking his head. “Of course you did, Romani.”

Maldric Othrandar folded the letter back up, slipping it into his coat pocket. He’d keep this one. Then, he went to the bed instead of the cauldron. After all… maybe there was still a reason to take it easy.