The black webs worming their way inside his flesh bore familiar poison runes he’d seen in Charles Hargrave’s spells and the equivalent spell models Mordecai was currently studying in Sorin’s clinic.

He tried to glean mysteries from the webs but found himself unable to fixate. The smoke invading his lungs was unusually potent and was dredging up painful memories. He first thought of childhood and the strict lessons that had begun before he could even speak.

On his fourth birthday, he was dissecting his first animal corpse instead of celebrating. His father was berating him for his first failed attempt, as was a grandfatherly figure he somehow hadn’t remembered, looking at him from a corner of the room without his father even noticing.

The same grandfatherly figure appeared at his sixth birthday, his tenth birthday, and even his graduation from Medical School. He thought his grandfather and he had never interacted. Yet it was clear from these memories that Grand Elder Hargrave had not been as absent as he’d assumed. He’d been looking over him this entire time.

There were a few more appearances, including once at his parents’ funeral, once after he’d arrived in the Bloodwood Outpost, and even a visit while he was still recovering after his fight with Marcus.

The man didn’t appear again until Sorin visited Hero Square. He mostly remained a silent observer and only showed himself briefly to flash his power at Ratten Hyde. This was the real reason Ratten had not used his full strength during their confrontation and had backed away after Aaron Zeiss had appeared.

It’s not just memories of my grandfather that are especially potent, Sorin soon realized as the viscous liquid in the pool wormed his way into his bloodstream, joining together to create intricate spell forms that were swiftly assimilated via Toxic Metabolism. It’s all my memories, especially memories of the last few days. I can see everything so clearly, even memories pertaining to the Ouroboros.

The way it moved, the way it breathed. He’d only glimpsed it form afar, but even then, he couldn’t help but marvel at its majesty. At the time, it had been impossible to focus on the divine serpent or even look at it directly. Yet now, thanks to the memory enhancer, Sorin could make out the various patterns on its scales and make out the strangeness of its paradoxical movements.

Instinctively, Sorin’s feet twitched. That twitched crawled up his spine and into all his limbs. Sorin inspected the sensation and discovered that one of his skills was resonating with the vision. It was a skill that had lost much of its usefulness over the years and was rapidly becoming obsolete, Adder Rush.

The movement technique allowed Sorin to move quickly and take advantage of his opponent’s mistakes. It also granted him absurd flexibility in combat. But these things were not something the current Sorin needed. What he needed now was a more mystical method, one that would enable him to deliver poisons and retreat however he wished.

The key must lie in how the Ouroboros moves, thought Sorin. The deity’s movement patterns were strange, and it wasn’t just because of its serpentine nature. It didn’t just fly – it moved through time and space.

They called it the Tail Biter, an ironic name given that it didn’t bite its tail at all. Instead, the serpent fed upon itself in perpetuity. Life and death devoured each other without end.

The creature moved in a similar fashion. When it pushed forward, it appeared at a further point in space and time. The superimposition of its past and present selves forced the fabric of reality to reconcile these positions. The result was that the past was modified. The past became its present state, thereby achieving instantaneous displacement.

Sorin’s attention returned to his body’s current state. The infiltration of poisonous runes continued and his Toxic Metabolism was hard at work. Any extra energy created was fed into Ophiuchan Simulation. The mindscape was hard at work organizing the various spell runes that his body was absorbing and even updating its models to account for them.

Focus. The black webs were very interesting, but the memory of the Ouroboros was rapidly fading. Sorin true body couldn’t move, so he created a virtual copy inside Ophiuchan Simulation. He took a step forward, activating Adder Rush and a hint of what he’d just witnessed.

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Not like this, thought Sorin as the runes in the skill shifted and adapted. It’s not me that needs to change, but reality itself. I need to impose my will on my surroundings and have them change to adapt to my desires.

He took another step, and this time, he melted a hole existence. His body jolted as he appeared a few dozen feet away. The hole mended, but his position had shifted. It’s not teleportation, he realized. True teleportation is impossible at my level without spells or heroic abilities.

Mages with their complex spell forms had long since mastered the art of traversing from one point to another. From what Daphne explained, short emergency flashes were the limit at the Flesh-Sanctification Realm due to a mage’s weak body. Spatial mages had it a little easier, but transporting live targets over short distances was difficult even with a willing recipient.

Haley’s Heroic ability was a rare exception to the rule. The only other exception Sorin had heard of was spatial items like his Wraith Snake Boots. Unfortunately, such items were difficult to manufacture. Powerful cultivators required high-grade equipment to teleport, as doing otherwise would damage equipment and potentially collapse space around the cultivator, killing them instantly.

Sorin grinned as he took another step, melting a hole from one point to another. The mana cost of using the ability was relatively high, but with his elevated mana stores and high regeneration rates, Sorin could handle as many as a dozen consecutive jumps.

A hundred feet is the current limit for a single jump. Flexibility is minimal, but unlike normal teleportation, there’s no delay. One moment, I’m in one location. The next, I’m in another. What’s more, this type of teleportation isn’t easy to restrict with spatial blockades.

Sorin fiddled with the ability a few more times before he allowed Adder Rush to evolved. The skill elongated and twisted before threatening to break, but relaxed as the acrid smoke in the room poured into the skill, increasing its malleability and facilitating otherwise impossible shifts in the skill’s structure.

Finally, the skill settled, and a grade was assigned. Adder Rush was successfully transformed into the Divine Skill, Dance of the Ouroboros. Like his other divine skills, it would grow with Sorin’s development. Eventually, Sorin would even be able to pierce through the protective shield of Olympia and traverse the realms as he pleased.

As the skill’s shape settled, Sorin inspected the mindscape one final time and saw that no more runes were leaking through. The reason, he discovered, was simple: most of the black fluid had been fully absorbed, along with whatever poisons and spells that had been poured into it.

The liquid was likely expensive, but Sorin was relieved to find that it was built on a complex spell circle. Each rune was etched with divine energy to form a network of tens of thousands of poison-aligned spell runes and equivalent spell framework.

“I hope Young Master Sorin has gleaned a few insights from his time in the Chamber of Strangling Webs?” a demure voice inquired. Sorin looked up to see that it was the same space mage as before.

“The benefits I received are incalculable,” answered Sorin honestly. “Though judging by the black liquids composition, refilling this pool won’t be an easy task.”

The mage chuckled. “Yes, it will take another ten years to refill. The current batch of promising mages and their parents won’t be happy. That said, what can they do in the end? When the Grand Elder Decrees acts, others must adapt.”

“Now come—you’ve already been here a week.”

“A week?!” exclaimed Sorin.

“Your companions have already consolidated their experiences and have set off ahead of you,” continued the mage. “Luckily, you awakened just in time. The Grand Elder was having difficulty rebuffing your clan’s inquiries and would have been forced to give in since it’s his turn on patrol tomorrow.”

A gray light flashed, and Sorin found himself inside a dimly lit chamber. There was a throne-like chair inside the mostly empty room. Grand Elder Hargrave was half asleep on the chair, using his elbow to prop himself up.

The spatial mage cleared his throat, and the Grand Elder calmly opened his eyes. “So, you managed to survive your punishment,” said Grand Elder Hargrave in a lazy voice. “Then it’s time we had a serious discussion. Would you please excuse us, Henrik? We won’t be long. Maybe an hour at most.”

“I’ll take my leave,” said Henrik, bowing at the waist. “Please don’t be too hard on the boy. He seems like a good seedling.”

Soon, it was only Sorin and his grandfather inside the room. “What have you called me for, Grandfather?” He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

The old man stood up from the throne-like chair and rolled his waist around in circles. “Oh, you know,” said the old man. “Just fulfilling my duties as your elder, since that old coot in the Kepler Clan has no interest in truly educating you.”

His eyes flashed, and spell forms lit up around him. “Prepare yourself, Sorin. You might be a God Seed, but you’re sorely lacking compared to the other little monsters in your generation.”

Sorin summoned his aura in response to the Grand Elder’s actions and gave him a wary look. “Can’t we just talk this over?”

“Now what would be the fun in that?” asked Grand Elder Hargrave with a mocking look. “Your parents were well-intentioned and strict according to their standards, but in the end, they were far too soft. Chaotic times lay ahead of us, Sorin, and I fully intend on having you survive them.”