I already knew something like this existed.
Not because someone had told me before, but because forbidden methods always appear when normal progress stops working. They don't show up as solutions. They appear as possibilities no one wants to take responsibility for.
The guild master didn't talk about it in public. Not during training either. It was at night, when the field was empty and the silence felt heavier than usual.
"You're at the limit of what you can learn here," he said bluntly.
"I noticed," I replied.
He stared at me for a few seconds. "There is an alternative."
Elara, Liriel, and Vespera were with me. None of them looked surprised. Just tense.
"Alternative usually means cost," Vespera commented.
"It means risk," the elf corrected.
"What kind of risk?" Elara asked.
"Permanent loss," he replied. "Or real progress."
Silence spread.
"Speak," I said.
The method was simple in description. Cruel in execution. Forcing the body and mind to operate beyond their natural limit, with no margin for retreat. It wasn't new magic. It wasn't a secret technique. It was pushing on where the body would normally fail and learning to survive there.
"This breaks people," the master said. "It doesn't make everyone stronger."
"Why show this now?" Liriel asked.
"Because he's already considering it," the elf answered, looking at me.
Elara turned immediately. "You didn't think of this alone."
"No," I replied. "But I thought that if it existed, it would be something like this."
She closed her eyes for a moment. "This could destroy you."
"Or save us," Vespera said.
"Don't put it in those terms," Liriel snapped. "It's not a fair trade."
"None of them are," I replied.
The master explained the details. Short sessions. Isolation. Constant monitoring. Even so, failures were common. Physical damage. Mental blocks. In rare cases, death.
"You're not obligated," he said. "The group can continue without this."
I looked at the three of them.
Elara was the first to speak. "If you do this alone, I won't accept it."
"It's not something you can share," I replied.
"Then don't do it," she said.
Vespera crossed her arms. "If he doesn't, someone will die later."
"Don't use that," Liriel said coldly. "Don't manipulate."
"It's not manipulation," Vespera replied. "It's statistics."
The weight of the decision fell entirely on me.
"I don't want to," I said. "But I know that if I don't, we'll face the General knowing we could have done more."
Elara stepped forward. "And if you don't come back the same?"
"Then you adapt," I replied. "Like always."
She stared at me, visibly irritated. "You talk as if it's simple."
"It isn't," I replied. "But it's necessary."
The master nodded slowly. "We begin tomorrow."
That night, I barely slept.
Not out of fear. Out of awareness.
I knew I wasn't seeking strength out of pride. I was seeking margin. A minimal space between mistake and death.
Before I lay down, Liriel approached.
"You don't need to break yourself to prove anything," she said.
"I know," I replied. "But I need to in order to continue."
Vespera spoke next. "If this goes wrong, I'll kill you before you become a problem."
I smiled faintly. "Fair."
Elara was the last. She sat beside me in silence.
"I'll be there," she said. "In every session."
"I know."
When the next day came, I had already accepted it.
The method wasn't forbidden because it didn't work.
It was forbidden because it worked too well.
And it demanded everything.