By the third day, the sea lay calm as glass. Ron stood at the bow, the Elven Wand steady in his hand, a thin thread of tension brightening his eyes.
Four triple-rune combinations had failed in a row. Only two remained: two base runes with one Second Rune, or three Second Runes together. He also had a hunch—whether first tier or second or third, wind magic required the base rune as its foundation. Every attempt without it had collapsed instantly, not even holding for a heartbeat.
Which meant there was likely just one path left.
If this failed, he would have to derive a fourth wind rune, and the number of combinations would explode. For a moment he imagined the labyrinth ahead: if second-tier magic already demanded this much, what of third tier, fourth—could any human truly explore that far?
Then he smiled to himself. When he reached that realm, his spirit and mind would be far beyond what they were now. The body might remain mortal, but the soul would already be stepping toward the divine.
He breathed in, slow and deep. All stray thoughts fell away.
The wand tip traced a point in the air. Within the Elven Pearl, three golden sparks flared, forming a triangle. Lines unfurled at lightning speed, interweaving until a complex array took shape.
It held.
A resonant hum.
The rune did not flicker out or shatter. Instead, it poured gold into the pearl, flooding it with light.
Release.
Ron's eyes flashed. He cut the wand toward the sea.
Stormwind howled.
Seven or eight vast blades of emerald wind erupted like the crazed slashes of a swordmaster, hacking down into the water. The ocean roared and fountained; within a dozen meters, the surface split into a grid of crisscrossing trenches, as if a giant had diced it like tofu.
Ron stared, shaken by the force of it.
He had underestimated second-tier magic. This wasn't five times a Wind Blade's power. Ten times wouldn't cover it. It was a clean leap to a new level.
Even the enhanced Multiple Wind Blades looked childish beside this technique—like a child's swings against an adult's strike.
Two chimes rang in his mind.
[Tip: You have mastered Wind Second-Tier Magic — Gale Rend.]
[Tip: Achievement Unlocked — Magician. Reward: 2 Achievement Points.]
He blinked, then laughed under his breath, summoning his achievement panel. New lines had appeared, achievements that hadn't shown themselves before:
Magic Master — master any third-tier spell.
Legendary Magus — master any fourth-tier spell.
Supreme Archon — master any fifth-tier spell.
The Magician achievement had triggered the moment Gale Rend bloomed.
"Surprises do love arriving together."
Joy rolled through him, bright and clean. With a second-tier spell in his hand and the Elven Wand singing at his palm, he had stepped beyond apprentice. He was, at last, a true magician.
Across the East Blue, aside from monsters like Garp or those old legends who once sailed with the Pirate King, there would be no pirate—Krieg or Arlong or any other—who could stand against him in the open.
From this instant, in a world of explosive strength, he finally owned a sliver of true footing.
He calmed his breath and funneled the two new points into Spirit, lifting his total to thirty-seven. Then he let the wand float beside him, faced the sea again, and cast Gale Rend once more.
This time he focused not on speed, but on cost and force.
"Consumption…"
Without channeling the wand's aid, he felt it clearly: Gale Rend drained roughly five times a Wind Blade. He took the wand back into his grip and cast again. The drain fell by about half.
"The Elven Wand cuts second-tier consumption by around fifty percent."
Exactly as he had suspected. It wasn't as outrageous as the nearly ninety percent reduction for first-tier spells, but it was still a colossal boon. With his current reserves, he could unleash seven or eight Gale Rends before running dry.
A technique worthy of the title finisher had become, with a wand's grace, a standard combat option.
He couldn't help a quiet, guilty thought: this might be a bit excessive.
Even once would likely carve Arlong to pieces. Seven or eight times would turn him into sashimi.
"As for speed… it won't be as absurd as Wind Blade, but with practice I should drop it under a second."
He shook his head, half in wonder. The Elven Wand had transformed everything. A magician without a wand was only pretending.
He set to work immediately, drilling the form of Gale Rend, smoothing every motion, trimming every fraction of delay—burning its pattern into reflex.
…
Two days later, their little ship slid into the Zeal Sea.
They didn't know the exact location of the weapons deal or Krieg's timetable, but a fleet of more than a thousand men spread over twenty ships could not hide its wake for long. Add the Marines and the underworld's jackals, and the entire sea would soon be seething.
Ron stepped to the rail, eyes half-lidded against the glinting water. The wind curled around his wand tip, eager, obedient.
A second-tier spell thrummed at his command.
The hunt was about to begin.
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