Leylin stood in his shadowed room at Abyssal Bone Forest Academy, the stone walls looming around him, their cold surfaces etched with the faint scars of time.
A single oil lamp flickered on his desk, its warm glow casting dancing shadows across the cracked leather of the Branded Swordsman manual that now rested in his hands—a prize wrested from the chaos of the bloodbath, a key to his ambitions.
The air was thick with the musty scent of parchment and the sharp bite of potion's pungent smell, a heady mix that fueled the restless energy thrumming through him.
Inside his mind, the A.I. Chip buzzed in overdrive, tirelessly sorting through the components of Grine Water and other potions, its mechanical precision a comforting hum against his racing thoughts. He'd also secured advanced potion formulas from Kroft, their intricate secrets swelling his potion bank, and the thought brought a flicker of pride to his chest, warm and steady like the lamp's flame.
"Now that all this is sorted out, I should work wholeheartedly on Blood Purification now," Leylin murmured, his voice low but brimming with resolve, a steely determination hardening his tone as he leaned against the desk, fingers brushing the manual's edge.
"The Abyssal Bone Forest Academy has the best resources and experiment labs. I should purify the ancient bloodline and create a portion of Serenity Potion from ingredients I've gathered." The words carried a quiet fervor, his heart pounding with the promise of what lay ahead—unlocking the ancient power, distilled into a potion that gleamed with potential.
His gaze drifted to the corner, where vials of shimmering liquids and bundles of rare herbs lay stacked, their faint glow a testament to his relentless pursuit.
He could've built his own lab—his wealth was a deep well, brimming with rare herbs which can sell for millions of magic crystals.
The idea teased at him, a vision of gleaming apparatus tailored to his every whim, but he brushed it aside with a faint, practical sigh.
Creating a lab will be a huge investment of time and resources meanwhile, he can easily carry out all research in the academy quickly and efficiently.
In the coming days, Leylin had haunted the resource counter, a shadowed figure exchanging a mountain of magic crystals for a trove of supplies. The clerk's eyes had widened at the haul—dragonscale fern, obsidian dust, roots pulsing faintly with life—but Leylin had met the stare with calm indifference, his focus unshakable.
"To brew the Serenity Potion and complete the experiment on bloodlines, the items required were a monstrous amount," he reflected, his voice a hushed marvel as he recalled the weight of those transactions, the clink of crystals a symphony of his ambition.
Many ingredients were so precious—tears of the midnight bloom, essence of shadow vine—that only Abyssal Bone Forest Academy's deep vaults could provide them, their rarity a siren call.
"What made me happier," he mused aloud, a grin tugging at his lips, his voice bright with a rare, bubbling joy, "is that under the current policies of the academy, I could purchase resources that are many times cheaper than the market price."
The lamplight caught the gleam in his obsidian eyes, reflecting his delight as he leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Even though I'm rich, the amount of resources needed as one advances is humongous," he admitted, a note of caution threading through his excitement, his fingers tracing a vial's cool surface.
"It's always good to exercise restraint now than to regret later." The words were a vow, spoken with a quiet gravity, a reminder of the discipline that had carried him this far, anchoring his soaring dreams in cold, calculated reality.
Leylin had reached the needed criteria for advancing, a feat that swelled his chest with a fierce, unspoken pride.
He has reached this state without any spiritual force enhancement potion but with his special skill saving a lot of expenses on resources.
Usually, acolytes would be hard-pressed to achieve this level in a lifetime—the elementary meditation technique from the academy would have been obsolete, a feeble crutch against the towering demands of advancement.
"In fact, many Magus were in such a situation," he reflected, his voice dropping to a murmur, heavy with understanding. "Without the high-grade meditation technique, every improvement or advancement required a huge amount of precious resources. Moreover, due to the tolerance of the physical body, the demand on its strength was even higher the next time round. Hence, this formed a vicious cycle." The words painted a grim picture, one he'd seen in the hollow eyes of stunted Magi, trapped by their own limitations.
"Adding on to the fact that they did not choose their innate spell model correctly, and the spell model needed for the next advancement was also difficult to find," he continued, a faint scoff escaping as he shook his head, "it was such a huge factor that it halted the footsteps of many official Magi."
The south coast's hierarchy flashed in his mind—Rank 1 Magi, newly advanced are common; Rank 2s like Siley, towering figures; Rank 3s, like Anya rare and fearsome peaks.
"However, with the high-grade meditation technique," he said, his voice rising with a fierce conviction, "I will absolutely surpass them."
The promise burned in his gut, a fire that drove his steps faster as he paced the room, restless with purpose.
His eyes blazing with a fiery passion, a wild intensity that lit the dim space. "The next to my plan is to change the meditation technique and purify the ancient bloodline and try to advance into a Rank 1 Warlock!" The words spilled out, urgent and alive, his pulse quickening as he hurried his pace, boots echoing faintly against the stone floor.
After settling the resources, Leylin didn't visit Kroft, a secrecy tugging at him as he scrawled a message instead.
"I'm entering a very important experiment—seclusion for cultivation," he'd written, his voice steady but tinged with apology as he recalled Kroft's dimmed eyes. Then, he poured all his heart into the experiment lab, a cavernous space of gleaming apparatus and shadowed corners.
"This set of apparatus was made with vulcanised glass and is the firmest!" Leylin said, his voice warm with admiration as he ran his hands over the sulphur-colored glass, its smooth, unyielding surface a marvel under his touch.
"There is also this!" he added, turning with a grin, his tone bright with excitement. "A machine that can generate negative energy 300 times faster!" His gaze settled on two large black instruments, their sleek forms glinting in the lab's dim light, a quiet hum of power emanating from them.

Beside them sat a microscope-like device, its lenses crude compared to the A.I. Chip's precision, but Leylin had rented this lab—normally reserved for official Magi.
"Survivor's privileges," he thought, a smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed the space, its privacy a shield forged by the academy's own rules. Even Siley couldn't pry here, not against the united might of the professors, each guarding their secrets like dragons over hoards.
"Let us begin!" Leylin said, his voice firm, a solemn resolve settling over him as he nodded. He drew a small box from his robes, its wood worn but sturdy, and opened it with care. Inside lay a dozen blood-red rocks, their surfaces pulsing with mystical energy that rippled through the air.
"Perfect," he breathed, awe threading his tone as the dispel formation he'd set absorbed the waves, not a whisper escaping. His expression grew solemn, reverence in his eyes as he picked up a purple potion, its liquid glinting like liquid dusk.
Days blurred into nights within the lab, Leylin's world shrinking to the hiss of flames and the clink of glass. Even nourishment came from potions, their bitter tang a small price for focus. With the A.I. Chip's microscopic might, the Book of Giant Serpent, and Kemoyin's Pupil as guides, bloodline purification flowed smoothly, a dance of science and magic that sang to his soul.
Three days later, he stood before a vulcanised crystal test-tube, his breath shallow with anticipation.
"This…" he whispered, his voice thick with wonder, eyes locked on the purple-red fluid filling half the tube. Tiny bubbles fizzed within, alive with effervescence.

"This is from all the essence from the Black Horrall Snake, adding on to the special blood purification apparatus using the heart as a primer," he said, excitement trembling in his words.
"After the microscopic abilities of the A.I. Chip coupled with magic spells to continuously purify it, I have finally obtained half a test-tube of this ancient bloodline!" The realization hit him, joy surging as he clutched the tube, its tremendous force radiating into his palm.
"Finally, I have achieved the bloodline of the ancient creature—Giant Kemoyin Serpent!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with triumph, eyes alight with a wild gleam.
"Giant Kemoyin Serpent are Ancient creature, reaching the length of 5000 meters in an adult phase," he recited, awe softening his tone. "It is known to have a powerful body and mysterious spellcasting abilities. In the adult phase, it can go against a Rank 4 Magus and is the destroyer of many cities in legends. Main elemental properties is Darkness, with secondary element of Fire!"
The lore unfurled in his mind, vivid and grand—legends of the Mother of Ten Thousand Snakes, her failed conquest, her fiery progeny.
"The Mother of Ten Thousand Snakes Snake Dowager had failed to gain control of the Shadow World, hence bringing her children to the Purgatory World. From then on, her descendants all have the element of Fire," he added, a quiet reverence in his voice.
"The properties of the Giant Kemoyin Serpent have acceptable compatibility with my affinity, although my best-suited affinity is soul," he mused, a faint smile playing on his lips as he set the tube down, its glow a beacon in the lab's gloom. His innate shadow and fire elements aligned well enough, but the soul's pull was a deeper call, a whisper of destiny he couldn't shake.
"Even after changing bloodlines, the original qualities of the magician's body were extremely important," he reflected, his tone sobering. "It was decided from the start of birth and was extremely difficult to change in the future."
Leylin immersed himself again, days bleeding into one another as he refined the bloodline and brewed the Serenity Potion.
His Potioneering skill sharpened with each batch, a craftsman's joy blooming amid the grind, as he awaited the A.I. Chip's analysis of the Knights' path.
"I've commanded the A.I. Chip to give priority to the completion of this task," he reminded himself, his voice firm with intent.
One day, as he trudged from his room to the Academy Restaurant, hunger gnawing at his stomach, a soft Pa! A white letter fluttered to the ground, its edges crisp against the stone.
Someone paid him a visit but, seeing him concentrate on an experiment, they dare intrude.
"Oh, is it that time already?" he said, surprise lacing his voice as he tore open the letter. As expected it was a letter for Jayden who invited him to meet, as for the reason it was obviously the Great Magus inheritance.
Due to some plan that Magus Serholm concocted to choose a worthy heir to his legendary path, various maps, information and clues would spread amongst acolytes who would go to search for the inheritance land in hopes of advancing but unknown to all, Leylin has already emptied the vaults.
Leylin raised his somewhat pale finger, tore away the white note without a reply. He had no interest in joining Jayden.
"It would be for his own benefit if he didn't go either. The way to Dylan Garden is filled with poisonous insects and many traps—without a potion master, it would be quite difficult to pass, even deadly." His voice dipped, cold, as he pictured the treacherous path he'd already plundered. "And now, in the whole academy, the most accomplished is me, who has already claimed the Dylan Garden inheritance." His next plan crystallized—leave, break through to Rank 1, test his theories on the Knight meditation technique.
"Those kids must have reached Knight level already," he thought, his eyes cold, a flicker of coldness chilling his gaze as he crumpled the note, its words irrelevant against the path he'd forged.