Tristan's plan was to hold onto the keys just long enough to make a copy. The two guards were cultivators, and he knew that stealing the keys without being detected by the Martial senses would be impossible.
He looked at the keys with a smile on his face. "Finally, I feel like my life in this hell is coming to an end."
Now that Tristan had an offensive ability, he didn’t really need the key to his own cell, but he decided to copy it because it could be useful in the future. His cell was designed for regular people, not cultivators. Although he was a cultivator, he was just a child without any skills when he was imprisoned in this dungeon, making escape impossible at that time.
'Hehe...'
‘So close, my escape is so close.’
All he needed now was to create a false healing spell, and then he could leave whenever he wanted. Well, theoretically, he could do that.
To learn about healing arts, Tristan used his diagnostic ability on himself, trying to study the workings of his own body. He studied his bruises and injuries to understand how they healed.
But healing arts weren’t the only thing he studied during this time. After all, he was planning a prison break and would become a fugitive, so he needed skills related to concealment. Fortunately, Darkness was the element of concealment, and he already knew its principles; he just needed to put them into practice.
The cultivation of Darkness naturally made one’s existence harder to detect, but the natural effect of Darkness wouldn’t be enough for him; he needed to deepen his knowledge in that area.
Sound, smell, and aura—he had to learn to control these traits using Darkness to hide his presence. Healing arts and concealment were what Tristan needed to survive.
After a few weeks of training, Tristan acquired two new level-1 abilities, which were:
Ability name: [Fallen Grace]
Rank: 1
Element: Light
Ability name: [Shadow Aura]
Rank: 1
Element: Darkness
He decided to spend two more months refining these abilities. Then, finally, the promised day arrived.
It was late at night, and Tristan chose a time when he noticed there was less noise outside, likely because most of the guards were asleep, leaving fewer on watch.
‘Well, this is it; it’s all or nothing. If I fail, I really will die.’
He thought about the past three years he’d been locked up in the dungeon and the two years after his mother’s death, when he was constantly abused by his stepmother.
But what he thought about most was his mother. She was the woman who saved his mind and sanity when he arrived in this world. Maternal love was something he had never experienced before; this world gave it to him but then took it away. This left a wild fury in his heart; the pain of loss he suffered was worse than any physical pain he had ever felt, and someone needed to pay for that.
"I can't die, I can't fail, and even if that happens, I swear I will become a curse to haunt those bastards."
After reinforcing his determination, he began the process. He would need to use three abilities simultaneously to succeed: [Tyrannical Eye], [Dark Blade], and [Fallen Grace]. Needless to say, this was an extremely difficult task. If Tristan’s mental capacity hadn’t been above average, it would have been impossible.
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Using his diagnostic ability to see the "threads," Darkness to cut them, and Light to hold them together temporarily, he cut the first thread and sighed in relief when he realized he was still alive.
"Well, one’s done; only a few thousand more to go."
After a long time, the moment finally came to cut the last "thread." Tristan did so, and now all that remained was to deactivate [Fallen Grace] and see what would happen.
With a bit of apprehension, he deactivated [Fallen Grace].
The energy holding the "threads" together no longer existed; in an instant, all the "threads" vanished.
"Did I succeed?"
Then, the area around Tristan’s solar plexus began to hurt terribly, and he felt like it was going to explode. An intense burning sensation spread across his chest. His core released a massive amount of essence that traveled through his energy veins, spreading throughout his body. His energy veins grew and became several times larger. The sensation was terrible; Tristan felt like he had been placed in a pot of boiling water.
The mystical energy was forcing Tristan's physical body to change and adapt to its new condition.
After some time, this phenomenon came to an end. He felt his body filled with energy—five times more energy, to be precise.
[Your body is full of power; you have evolved!]
“Ah!”
'Magush'
Name: Tristan
Species: Human
Age: 11
Realm: Mortal
Core: Mist Orange
Talents:
Abilities: [Tyrannical Eye] [Dark Blade] [Fallen Grace] [Shadow Aura]
Artifacts: [Fragment of the book The Tales of Heaven and Earth’s Creation]
‘Mist Orange, I really evolved!’
He had expected this to happen. Those who awaken before adulthood naturally evolve a bit, even without using cultivation techniques. Since Tristan's cultivation had been blocked, he hadn’t experienced this phenomenon. But once the block was removed, his core had to adjust to his 11-year-old body.
“Damn, if my cultivation hadn’t been blocked, I’d probably be in the Mid Orange by now, or even the Solid Orange” he sighed sadly.
But then a smile appeared on his face.
‘Well, anyway, the best news is that my cultivation is no longer blocked.’
‘Finally!’
Tristan leaped with joy at his new achievement.
Once the moment of joy passed, he began to think about the next steps.
The best thing to do at that moment would have been to stay there, using cultivation techniques to modify his body, giving it its elemental characteristics. The vitality boost from Light and the flexibility provided by Darkness could be very useful to him. But there was no time to waste.
Tristan didn’t know if powerful cultivators like his father or others who lived in the mansion could sense any difference in the essence of those living there, but he thought it was best to leave as quickly as possible.
[Dark Blade]
A mist of darkness covered Tristan’s right hand, forming a small black blade. The evolution not only strengthened his body but also increased the power of his skills. His [Dark Blade] was now five times stronger than when he had a Solid Red core.
He slowly cut through the metal lock; his blade was precise and sliced like a knife. Now, with the door no longer locked, he slowly pulled the heavy metal gate, trying to make as little noise as possible. He finally managed to step out of his cell and into the hallway. He pulled the metal door back, placing it in its original position. Tristan’s cut had been so precise that someone would only notice something was different if they looked closely.
[Shadow Aura]
A thin layer of black mist covered Tristan’s body, allowing him to somewhat control his scent, sound, and vital essence release. Slowly, he walked through the dark corridor, deciding to pass by the area where the imprisoned cultivators were kept to see if there was anyone useful to help in his escape.
His [Shadow Aura] might work on the dungeon guards, but it was only a level 1 skill. His father had Martial Experts working for him, and if any of them had a level 2 detection ability, he’d be in trouble. That’s why Tristan wanted to see if he could find someone to use as bait while escaping. The chances of finding someone useful weren’t very high, since cultivators were rare, and most who were imprisoned would be quickly executed unless they had some use.
As it was very late, the guards who were awake were likely near the dungeon’s entrance gate, so Tristan managed to reach the area where the cultivators were imprisoned.
He pulled out a bone key with a complex design, runes, and symbols carved into its surface. This was one of the keys he had replicated. He had used his Darkness magic to carve a bone he had saved from one of his meals.
He opened several cells, but most were empty.
But then he finally found someone. It was a young man, about 16 or 19 years old. He had long black hair; his body was covered in scars and freshly stitched wounds; he had probably been tortured. He had a tattoo on the left side of his face: a black snake emerging from the eye of a goat’s skull. He was suspended in the air, his arms bound by chains.
“Is he still alive?”
But as he got closer, the stranger opened his eyes.