Leaving Dima to master his new skill, I got back to work. The cursed energy reserves were still scant, which was starting to irritate me. On the bright side, the seal had strengthened slightly after replenishing the necrotic energy supply. At least now, when I used energy for personal needs, I wasn’t draining reserves—my intake had finally surpassed the outflow.

Not much time remained before the arrival of the *Puzo Privates*, if my calculations about their intended visit were accurate. Being deep underground left me without any reliable way to determine the exact time. Even ascending ten meters didn’t bring me close to the surface. After all, the area above was still the so-called “sanatorium,” and the fragment of some dim utility room I managed to reach wasn’t exactly helpful for timekeeping.

If I wasn’t mistaken, it was around noon, leaving roughly half a day before our “guests” would arrive. Creatures like them always emerged at midnight; I doubted these two would be an exception.

First, I decided to finalize my transition to the level of *Journeyman*. Staying stuck at the *Apprentice* stage was not on my to-do list, especially with my body brimming with absorbed energy. By the time I’d finished collecting necrotic energy, most of the significant injuries had already healed, leaving me feeling revitalized. As much of a bastard as Marcus had been in life, he had proven to be an exceptional donor.

The central magical pillar in my body had reached its natural peak, thanks to a steady energy supply and constant mana circulation between the cores. Future changes would now focus on strengthening and adapting it to the size of the cores, but structurally, it was fully formed and no longer needed much attention.

The cores themselves, though not significantly larger than when I first inhabited this body—progress takes time—were now distinctly visible when viewed with magical sight. Considering this body couldn’t even light a match a few days ago, the progress was remarkable. All that remained was to refine the remaining mana channels to the necessary level, achieving the rank of a legitimate, albeit novice, mage.

From there, the easy progress would end. Further development would require deliberate, manual training, though I could still supplement the process with cursed energy. Expanding the blocked mana channels and the central pillar was one thing; evolving them into a functional system was another.

---

"Got it!" I heard Dima’s triumphant voice as he returned to the “passenger seat.” "Volcano, I did it!"

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Good job," I acknowledged sincerely. "And it didn’t even take an hour. Now do it about two hundred more times."

"Alright," he replied with slightly less enthusiasm. "I’ll get to it!"

And he actually did. A few hours later, just as I was wrapping up my own efforts, Dima checked in again.

"Done!" he reported proudly. "You were right—it really is just a matter of technique. Honestly, I even enjoyed it. Feels liberating to know I can step outside my body anytime now."

"Well done," I repeated, but quickly added in a stern tone, "but let’s be clear—you definitely can’t *always* do it, especially not here. Don’t forget we’re in the dwarf’s lair. He sees ghosts as well as I do, if not better. I might blend in with our body, but you’ll stand out immediately."

"Understood," Dima nodded seriously. "No pointless outings, and avoid the gods."

"Good," I said with a satisfied grin. "Next task! You noticed that half-dead guy in the neighboring cell?" I waited for his nod before continuing. "He’s the perfect candidate for testing. I’m confident your attempts to take control won’t even register in his condition. And with his current mana levels—less than even the guards—nothing will block you."

"Uh, Volcano… are you sure this is, I don’t know, *ethical*?" Dima hesitated. "He hasn’t done anything to us, and we’re treating him like that dwarf…"

"Hold it right there!" I barked, making Dima flinch. "Don’t you dare compare me to some deity! I already told you—he won’t even feel the interference. In fact, if you linger in his body too long, you’ll be doing him a favor. You’ll experience all his pain, not him. And once we escape, he’ll actually have a shot at getting out of here himself."

"Well, when you put it like that… yeah, okay," Dima mumbled, looking thoughtful. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend."

"I know," I chuckled. "I don’t take offense easily. I get angry, sure, but that’s not the same as ‘offense.’ That’s reserved for goddesses, women, and the undecided."

"Hah," Dima laughed awkwardly. "Got it, makes sense."

"Great. Now stop with the silly questions and get to work! Remember, you’ll need to be ready by the time our ‘esteemed guests’ arrive."

"You bet I will," Dima said, cracking his ghostly knuckles with a grin. "I can’t wait to give them what they deserve!"

"You’ll have your chance," I smirked. "But only if you master possession by then."

---

While Dima practiced with unwavering determination, I used the remaining necrotic energy to reinforce the mana channels in my new body, finally reaching the rank of *Journeyman*. A weak, limited Journeyman, yes, but a Journeyman nonetheless. The guards were no longer an obstacle.

I decided to arm myself, and an idea formed as I examined the block of stone bearing my seal. Why not?

Using a bit of cursed energy, I separated the “demonic brick” from its mundane neighbors. The mortar cracked and crumbled instantly, leaving me to pluck my new weapon from its resting place.

"Skullbreaker’s ready," I muttered, inspecting the ordinary-looking brick that could rival a divine relic in durability. "Now to wait for the volunteers."

As the hours passed, I practiced creating dense clouds of caustic smoke—easily preserved for future use. Unlike fleeting fire spells, these were reusable smoke bombs. Simple but effective.

Dima, for his part, made remarkable progress. About ten hours after his first out-of-body experience, he managed to possess the dying man. Weak, unconscious, but still a success.

Just in time, too, as familiar footsteps echoed down the corridor.

"They’re coming," Dima reported, reappearing in the cell.

"I know," I said, gripping the “fortress” brick in one hand and a smoke bomb in the other. "Let’s begin.”