Ron was eating in the communal dining hall when the hushed conversation of several reserve Apprentices at the neighboring table caught his attention.
"Did you hear Darrend bought that potion?" asked a tall, thin young man with medium-length hair, his voice low and conspiratorial.
"What potion? The one that develops the brain?" his companion replied, eyes widening in disbelief.
"Yeah, that one. He says he wants to complete the Conception for the sound wave spell..." The long-haired youth nodded, a mixture of surprise and disdain in his expression.
"Has he gone mad? So many people have tried that stuff and failed..." the third person scoffed, shaking his head.
"With his mental strength? That potion will only turn him into a monster."
Ron, chewing on the coarse, flavorless black bread while thinking about the Potion Studies material he needed to review, paused. Hearing his neighbor Darrend's name made him frown. He put down his plate.
Over the past few days, Darrend's usual experimental racket had all but vanished. Ron had assumed the eccentric researcher had hit a bottleneck and was taking a break. Now, it seemed things might be more serious.
"The dormitory area's been a little too quiet lately. I hope it's not what I think..." he murmured, staring at the half-eaten bread in his hand. His appetite faded.
When Ron first arrived at Black Mist Forest, he and his neighbor Darrend were fairly friendly. His first meal had even been shared with him.
"My home is in Snow Pine City, southeast of the Black Mist Forest," Darrend had said back then. At the time, he was far more approachable than he was now. The slightly chubby young man stirred the beet soup in his bowl and introduced himself in a quiet voice.
"Our family has been musicians for generations—composing and performing for nobles in the city."
His eyes lit up when he spoke about music.
"Can you imagine, Ron? Music isn't just sound. It's energy. It's the resonance of the soul. Since childhood, I've been able to sense the connection between notes, their rhythm, their power..."
Ron had nodded politely, not entirely sure what Darrend was talking about.
"My mental strength aptitude is low—not even a fifth-star. I was almost in despair coming here," Darrend said, stirring his soup absently, unaware that it had grown cold.
"But on the first day of school, I saw a notice that gave me hope."
He lowered his voice mysteriously.
"Apart from the standard mental strength test, the School offers another path to advancement—completing a bounty spell Conception. If you can take a semi-finished spell and develop it into a working version, you qualify to stay."
"And I found a project that matched me perfectly..."
Darrend's eyes gleamed. "Sound wave conductivity of the mental force field. The moment I saw that name, I knew it was meant for me."
Over the next few months, Darrend immersed himself in research. Ron would often glimpse piles of equipment and messy notes through the doorway, walls covered in strange symbols and musical diagrams.
During the first two months, Darrend would tap various metal containers every day, producing odd tones, only to curse and start again.
Ron often complained to Andre that Darrend's noise disrupted his Basic Meditation.
But about a month ago, the noise changed.
Darrend became frustrated. He couldn't make sound waves influence the mental force field, no matter how he tried.
"My mental strength is too weak," he once admitted bitterly. "If I were just a bit stronger, I could break through."
Recently, even those sounds had stopped. At first, Ron thought Darrend had given up. But yesterday, when they ran into each other in the communal bathroom, he noticed something disturbing.
There was a crazed glint in Darrend's eyes. His face had gone sallow, and his previously plump frame had withered, bones protruding under his skin.
"Are you alright?" Ron had asked casually.
Darrend smiled—strangely. It wasn't reassuring.
"Alright? Of course I'm alright… I'll succeed very soon, Ron."
Without another word, he walked off.
Now, thinking back, Darrend's behavior had clearly crossed into the realm of abnormal.
Ron picked up his bread again, wiped the last bit of sauce from his plate, shoved it into his mouth, and walked toward the washing area.
Maybe... he should be more cautious around his neighbor.
Back in his room, Ron opened Basic Meditation Method and resumed his practice. He figured he still had a little time left to meditate before the day was over.
Though he had already expended a lot of energy, the Mind Enhancement Potion from the past few days had kept his mental state at a stable, elevated level.
[Basic Meditation begins]
This time, he tried to integrate what Mrs. Ellen had taught him.
Instead of merely sketching runes, he focused on sensing the natural flow of his mental strength. When encountering resistance, he guided it gently, letting it move along the path of least resistance—like a skilled helmsman steering with the current rather than fighting it.
In his consciousness space, the rune made of three arcs started to shimmer faintly.
Unlike its previous rigid form, it now appeared alive, trembling subtly with each fluctuation of mental strength.
[Special effect triggered: Rhythm Resonance – This Basic Meditation effect ↑]
[Basic Meditation experience + 3]
[Current progress: Basic Meditation (Entry 44/100)]
[Today's cultivation time limit reached, rest is recommended]
Ron opened his eyes.
Although the result was slightly below the boost provided purely by the Mind Enhancement Potion, it was still a notable improvement compared to his early attempts.
"'Rhythm' really is the key," he murmured, jotting down the insight in his notebook.
His notes had become quite organized—no longer a series of random observations, but a developing theory.
After organizing his thoughts, Ron picked up his training wooden sword and began practicing the basic forms of Corona Swordsmanship.
Though he lacked a formal instructor, Andre's notes provided valuable guidance. He slowly figured out the movements step by step.
Each swing followed the rhythm of the Corona Breathing Method, aiming for a balance between motion and breath.
As he practiced, the synchronization of his movements improved. His swings became smoother and more fluid.
[Basic Swordsmanship experience + 3]
[Current progress: Basic Swordsmanship (Entry 12/30)]
As twilight deepened, Ron cleaned his room, set down his wooden sword, undressed, and lay down to rest.
Just as he was about to drift off, a strange sensation swept over him.
It was vague and indescribable—like someone, or something, was watching him.
A strange sound echoed from the neighboring room. It rose and fell, sometimes high-pitched, sometimes low, like the tortured moans of someone in agony—or perhaps something worse.
Ron closed his eyes, trying to identify the source. But the sound vanished as quickly as it came.
"Strange..." he muttered, shifting uneasily.
Then the noise surged again, this time far more intense.
It no longer sounded human.
It was more like the anguished wailing of a wild beast, mixed with unnatural metallic scraping.
"It seems... the thing I feared most has really happened..." Ron murmured.
A deep sense of dread settled over him.
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