But then I felt something.
A ripple of raw energy slammed toward me, vibrating through the arena like a living thing. I felt the intent behind it—a spell born from pride, malice, and arrogance. The caster was a Third Year—tall, broad-shouldered, and brimming with strength. His reputation preceded him: ranked third among the Third Years, a bully whose presence alone intimidated even the strong.
The spell he cast wasn't ordinary. I could sense its scale, its destructive capacity. Half the arena would be leveled. Scores of students—both fighters and spectators—could die if it hit its mark.
The fight had gone on long enough.
I couldn't let them attempt suicidal attacks out of frustration.
I didn't hesitate. Not for even a fraction of a second.
I stepped directly into the path of the attack.
It hit.
The explosion roared—a pulse of fire, lightning, and sheer destructive force. The ground buckled, stone cracked, and the arena trembled violently. The heat was suffocating. The air filled with screams, the smell of burning ozone, scorched flesh, and shattering stone.
And then… silence.
From the thick black smoke, all that seemed to remain of me was a grotesque image. My body appeared obliterated—limbs twisted unnaturally, muscles shredded, bones fractured and protruding through mangled skin. My internal organs, raw and exposed, quivered as if untouched by mercy. Blood pooled and sprayed across the floor.
A hush fell over the arena; the spectators' gasps were swallowed by disbelief. Even the Third Years faltered, stunned by the sheer carnage. Some could only stare, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.
And yet, I was alive.
Slowly, almost hypnotically, the transformation began.
First, the bones—white, fractured, splintered. They began knitting themselves together, as if invisible threads were sewing them shut. I could feel the heat of repair, the subtle pop as each fracture aligned perfectly. Tendons and ligaments stretched and twisted back into place, taut and functional.
Then the muscles. They began weaving themselves together like a tapestry. Torn fibers rejoined, knot by knot, sinews intertwining and strengthening with each pulse. The flesh thickened, skin adhering over the surface like a sculptor molding clay, sealing wounds and smoothing edges.
The internal organs—the liver, kidneys, heart, lungs—shimmered into place. They rebuilt as if threads of life were being pulled from the air itself, reforming each delicate structure with perfect precision. Blood flowed once more, clotting instantly where needed, oxygen rushing back into the heart and brain.
The tendrils of hair, singed and burnt, sprouted again in thin, perfect strands. I don't know how but blindfold remained intact.
The entire process—grotesque yet mesmerizing—took no more than thirty seconds. By the time the smoke cleared, I was whole.
The arena was silent—no applause, no words, just frozen awe. Every student who thought they had witnessed death now saw life restored with horrifying clarity. My body bore no trace of the explosion—no scar, no soot. Every cut, fracture, and burn had vanished, as though reality itself had folded and stitched me back together.
The Third Year bully who cast the spell stared, eyes wide, mouth open. Even the strongest fighters among them could comprehend only a fraction of what they had seen.
I took a step forward, blindfolded, untouched by the destruction, every wound now only a memory that no longer existed.
The only evidence left was my clothing—utterly destroyed.
And the arena—every corner, every spectator, every teacher—was forced to realize just how untouchable, how inhuman, I truly was.
But what they didn't know was that what they saw was already the healed version of me.
In truth, as the spell was damaging me, I was healing simultaneously. Only the final explosion, caused by the spell's instability, left the injuries they saw.
Kael announced,
"Victory goes to the Third-Year students!"
Though everyone knew I had walked straight into the explosion of my own accord.
Still, the condition was that I had to be scratched—and they did far more than that. Even if it meant I jumped into it myself.
---
Let me reveal something to you.
I still have one more Nature Force to claim—but it's in the Demon Realm.
I'm not going for it yet because I want to better utilize the Nature Forces I already possess.
Why?
For that, let me tell you something that happened in the novel.
I already told you about how The Devourer's Gift was created. It was so powerful that dying became impossible, and special rituals had to be performed to even allow death.
Right now, among all the Nature Forces I possess, if I had to choose one with the most powerful effect, I would say it's The Devourer's Gift.
One of humanity's greatest desires is immortality—and this Nature Force is the closest thing to it.
Because, as you know, this Nature Force actually grants immortality.
The only reason it's considered a failure is that it cannot preserve one's mental stability.
One might wonder: after the mind collapses, can you still call it immortality?
If you define immortality purely as the inability to die, then The Devourer's Gift is a success.
But if you define it as eternal life with intact thoughts and sanity, then it's a failure.
Still, you understand what I mean.
In fact, even now—after it has weakened—I can survive with only my head intact, even if my entire body is destroyed. Actually, as long as my brain remains functional, I can still live.
I don't know how much more I can handle though—I can't really experiment with my own life now, can I?
Now, here's the thing: the Demon King is extremely powerful, and he never considered any Nature Force particularly great—
except The Devourer's Gift.
The last user of this force was captured in the Demon Realm, and the Demon King became intrigued.
If he could acquire this Nature Force, he believed he could handle even a dozen Hero at once.
And so, he tried to take it.
But a Nature Force fuses completely with its wielder—more deeply than even the soul itself.
It becomes like a drop of water merging into an ocean.
So how could he find it?
Without finding it, he couldn't take it.
The Demon King removed the wielder's brain and kept it alive for an entire month.
During that time, The Devourer's Gift continuously tried to heal its owner, and through this, the Demon King was able to pinpoint its presence.
By the way, the owner was conscious the entire time—feeling every ounce of pain caused by The Devourer's Gift as it struggled to restore him.
But no matter what he did, the Demon King couldn't extract the Nature Force.
You can take someone's soul, but not their Nature Force.
After a month of failed attempts, he finally killed the owner in frustration.
I don't want that fate.
So I will first master complete control over my existing Nature Forces.
That's why—even though it hurts to get injured—I still allow it. I want to build a high pain tolerance. After all, The Devourer's Gift will take care of the wounds anyway.
I also use Apocalypse at higher potential differences for the same reason.
Inside the Demon Realm, I'll be the only human among countless demons. I won't be able to hide.
So, I've postponed claiming that last Nature Force for now.
Once I do, Apocalypse will become my trump card instead of my only offensive option.
---
But why did I mention all this?
Because I could've just used Apocalypse and avoided the injury entirely.
I wanted to make it clear—I'm not a masochist.
The second reason is that after this incident, my nickname "The Monster Lord" will become even more solidified.
And honestly, I hate it.
But I couldn't quite pass up the opportunity.
I still can't willingly inflict pain on myself. When I can blow up my entire body without hesitation using my own attack, then I'll consider my pain tolerance good enough.
So for now, experiences like this are training to increase that tolerance.
Everyone is still sitting and staring at me.
What should I do?
Did I overdo it a little?
Maybe I should've activated the Nature Force faster.
The slowest healing I've ever experienced was when I first acquired it—just like with its previous owner.
Let's just leave the arena.
And so, I slowly walked out.
After leaving, I saw Professor Kael approaching.
He said,
"Please follow me, Twelfth Lord. We'll provide new clothing as compensation."
I nodded and followed him.
As we walked, Kael said,
"I wanted to humble them—not just the Third Years, but every student. I've achieved that, but now I'm wondering if I should call a therapist too."
I smiled and said,
"They'll see wounds far worse than that in the future. The only difference is, those bodies won't walk again."
I was given new clothes, which I put on before leaving the academy.
Since I have to return tomorrow as Elric Lewin, I decided not to leave academy city—just to book a room at a hotel instead.