Two months had passed since Adem was admitted to the Wetland Gardens, roughly forty-five days since he had advanced to a Level 1 Acolyte.
In that time, his growth could only be described as astonishing.
He had celebrated his eleventh birthday a month ago, yet his physique now resembled that of a fifteen-year-old. This transformation was largely due to the intense body refinement regimen he'd been practicing. Having confirmed that channeling energy into his head posed no danger to his mind or senses, he had even begun refining it—though with extreme caution. He wasn't about to turn himself into a monster for the sake of power. Strength meant nothing if it cost him his humanity.
His progress was visible. His skin now carried the texture and resilience of iron. A full-force strike from a Knight infused with life energy—capable of slicing through metal like butter—would barely leave a mark on him.
During his breaks from spiritual force training, he continued practicing with his spear. His control had grown so precise that he could treat his own hand like a spear tip, thrusting and striking with near-perfect form. There were times he considered taking a hunting mission against magic beasts to test his limits, but Professor Margot forbade it.
"You'll wait until you're a Level 2 Acolyte," she had said firmly. "Your foundation must come first—your situation isn't ordinary."
And so he waited.
Today, that wait was nearing its end. Adem sat cross-legged in quiet meditation, his breathing deep and steady. His white-gray hair—once cropped short—had grown to about three centimeters, falling loosely against his forehead. His eyebrows had sharpened, almost sword-like, framing his closed eyes. His tan skin gleamed faintly under the soft glow of the flame lamp hugging the wall.
He wore his usual black shirt and trousers beneath a gray acolyte robe, a symbol of his steady advancement.
Slowly, he exhaled. His mind grew calm, his thoughts focused as he began tracing the complex mental rune required for his next breakthrough.
"My speed of progression… it's already faster than Leylin's," he thought. "At this rate, I'll reach Rank 1 Magus long before he even enters the Great Magus Serholm's inheritance grounds."
A faint smile crossed his lips. He intended to visit those ruins himself, not for Serholm's inheritance, but for the rare plants and research notes left behind. The Warlock path had never appealed to him. Its restrictions were too heavy, too final.
He had studied it deeply nonetheless.
High-ranking bloodlines were nearly impossible to acquire without sufficient strength. And what use would it be to obtain the bloodline of a magic beast inferior to himself? Worse, the bloodline's ceiling acted as a shackle—one could only go so far before their own power turned into a cage.
"The very bloodline that empowers us, is the very bloodline that limits us," he recalled, remembering one of the most quoted lines in the novel.
Bloodline suppression, emotional instability, and genetic decay… they weren't risks he was willing to take.
Still, he knew that understanding bloodline research would be invaluable for his future path. Knowledge was never wasted.
Adem steadied his breathing and finished inscribing the final mental rune. Immediately, a rush of elemental particles flooded toward him, swirling in the air like a living storm. They cascaded over his body, soaking into his pores before flowing inward, toward his spiritual sea.
A wave of pressure pulsed outward. Impurities forced from his body evaporated into the air with a faint hiss. It was his second time experiencing such purification, and this time it left his mind sharper, his senses keener.
Afterward, with a simple manipulation of the elements, he cleansed himself completely. Baths had become optional, something he did only out of preference, not necessity.
In alchemy, his progress had been just as remarkable. He had become one of the academy's most talented new alchemists, his easy-to-understand teaching methods making him unexpectedly popular among the other acolytes. The number of magic crystals he earned was absurd for someone his age; he was practically swimming in wealth. Alchemy, though expensive to begin with, paid extraordinary dividends once mastered.
Professor Margot hadn't been available recently. She had broken through to Rank 2 herself just a week prior, and the resulting radiation fluctuations made it difficult for her to stabilize her energy. Before retreating for closed meditation, she had given Adem a gift—a Rank 0 spell scroll: Fireball.
It was meant as both a birthday present and a test of his comprehension.
Adem had studied the spell matrix for less than an hour before fully mastering it. His high comprehension, combined with his master-level control of the [Force Control] skill, made such feats almost effortless. Within the same day, he could conjure and manipulate fireballs with precision that startled even himself.
With his breakthrough complete and his progress recorded, Adem made his way toward the academy's mission hall. Normally, Professor Margot would report such things for him—but this time, he would handle it personally. He felt ready.
As he stepped through the arched doorway of the mission center, his eyes gleamed with quiet anticipation.
"A monster extermination mission," he murmured. "It's time to see how far I've really come."
He traced the edges of the parchment with a fingertip, feeling the faint imprint of the seal. This particular mission was always available due to the large presence of swamp monsters ranging from Mud Lizards to Steel-Barked Egrets.
This specific assignment was to kill fifteen Mud Lizards.
They weren't known for their strength but for their numbers, which made them difficult to deal with. Each lizard possessed the strength of a knight, and their gall bladders could be used as alchemic ingredients.
After walking out of the castle, he followed the paved road leading out of the academy. It didn't take long before he reached the marshlands that surrounded the area. His plan for scouting around the marsh was simple: condense footholds of elemental energy beneath his feet.
"I'm ready," Adem said, his voice calm and steady. His hands flexed at his sides, almost unconsciously forming a spear-like gesture. "I want to test my limits—and I don't plan to return without finishing the task."
Then, from the shadows, a massive form emerged: a swamp lizard, its scales glistening like polished obsidian, eyes burning with predatory intelligence. It let out a guttural roar that shook the reeds and sent ripples across the water.
Adem's heart raced. He hadn't expected one to be so close, it was barely two meters away, just as he was about to condense his first foothold.