"This… this feeling—"
Char's eyes widened, the veins on his arms and neck standing out in sharp relief. The [Improved Hematopoietic Ability] had only just reached the Gold level, but the sensation of power it gave him was unlike anything he had ever felt before. A raw, potent force began to flow through him, carried on the tide of his own blood. It felt as if a giant had squeezed into his body, infusing him with its strength.
His eyes shot to his system panel, and a jolt of pure excitement coursed through him. As his hematopoietic ability reached the Gold level, his two legendary abilities, [Legendary Life] and [Legendary Strength], suddenly began to shine with a new, brighter light, their power slowly but steadily increasing. The magnitude of the increase wasn't dramatic, but in just a few short moments, the improvement to these two abilities had already surpassed the total gains he had made from tirelessly training with the troll for so many days.
A terrifying, triumphant light burst from Char's eyes, and he couldn't help but let out a laugh. He had guessed that his blood was connected to his vitality and strength, and that improving his blood-forming ability might, in turn, enhance his legendary powers, pushing them toward the Mythical level. Now, his guess was confirmed. Just reaching the Gold level had caused his legendary abilities to react. This was the second piece of the puzzle he had confirmed, the key that, along with external training, would lead him to the Mythical level.
He took a deep breath, his eyes full of anticipation. "If I can increase my blood-forming ability to the Legendary level," he thought, "or perhaps acquire a few more legendary abilities related to strength and life, I might be able to elevate one of them to the Mythical level in one fell swoop."
Mythical-level abilities were on a completely different plane of existence from Legendary-level ones. It was like entering another dimension. With Mythical power, he could shake mountains like the Titans of old. What kind of magic could compare to that? Mythical life could grant a lifespan of thousands, even tens of thousands of years, with regenerative and defensive capabilities that few spells could overcome. Voldemort pursued immortality through all manner of dark and twisted means; a Mythical life could achieve it with ease. The thought of it made his heart tremble.
But a moment later, he forced himself to calm down. "Steady," he told himself. "From Legendary to Mythic may seem like just one step, but the journey is ten times longer than the journey from Iron to Legendary combined. Just raising my blood-forming ability to the Legendary level will take who knows how long. One step at a time."
His gaze fell back to the system panel, where another new line of text was gradually taking shape: [Blood Purification]. Compared to the rapid improvement of his hematopoietic ability, this one was moving at a turtle's pace, even with a steady stream of reward orbs flowing into it. The dull black iron luster slowly grew richer, but by the time it stopped, it hadn't even reached the Bronze level, only showing a few dim bronze specks.
Still, the sight filled Char with hope. This ability, however slight, had the potential to improve his innate talent. His magic strength and perception had already surpassed the limits of his original talent, making further progress incredibly difficult and diminishing the effect of the reward orbs. An improvement that once required a single orb might now need five, ten, or even more. But if he could purify his bloodline and raise his talent limit, even a little, the diminishing returns would be reduced, saving him an incalculable amount of time and resources.
After the growth of his [Blood Purification] ability stagnated, Char closed his eyes, carefully feeling for any changes in his body. But after a long moment, he felt nothing. There was no special sensation, no grand transformation like in the novels he had read in his past life. Even after casting a dozen familiar spells, he could only vaguely sense a tiny improvement in his magic perception.
He gave a wry smile. "This magnitude… it's barely better than nothing." He reasoned that the improvement of talent through blood purification was likely a slow, gradual process. With the ability not even at the Bronze level yet, it was too much to expect any major changes. "It seems I'll have to wait until it reaches Silver or Gold level to see a significant improvement." He didn't mind. There was no point in being anxious. He would just have to take his time.
Just then, he felt a strange itch in his throat. He couldn't help but cough. This stunned him. Ever since gaining his Legendary Life ability, he hadn't so much as coughed, or even felt sleepy. He was a perpetual motion machine of energy. What was happening?
The next moment, he coughed again, and this time, a string of sparks erupted from his mouth. He stared, his expression a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. "Wait a minute, this isn't—"
The last of the rewards from the Blood Jade were finalizing on his system panel. Two new abilities were taking shape. One of them was [Dragon Fire]. Though the rewards were all at the Black Iron level, this ability was improving much faster than his blood purification. By the time it stopped, it had steadily risen to the Bronze level, even showing tiny specks of silver light.
As the ability improved, the itch in his throat grew worse, and his coughs became more severe. A series of increasingly dense sparks spewed from his mouth and nose, until finally, he let out a loud sneeze. A thin ball of orange-red flame burst from his mouth, the scorching heat rolling through the air. For a moment, he looked like a young dragon breathing fire.
When the flames subsided, a look of pure fascination crossed Char's face. The Dragon Fire ability, it seemed, was quite literal. It allowed him to spit fire like a dragon. After the initial strangeness wore off, his eyes lit up. If used well, this could be an incredible surprise attack. Who would ever expect a wizard to breathe dragon fire? It was a perfect trump card, requiring no wand and no incantation. His mood immediately improved.
His gaze then fell to the last ability: [Poison]. Like the Dragon Fire, it had also reached the cusp of the Silver level. But after a few experimental attempts, he was quite disappointed. He had thought it might allow him to poison enemies on contact, or even imbue his spells with a toxic effect. Who would ever suspect a Lumos charm of being poisonous? But the reality was far different.
"I can use this ability to freely control the intensity and onset time of the poison," he discovered, "but the toxin can only exist in my blood."
He was speechless for a moment. What's the use of that? Do I have to bleed on my enemies? The poison would only take effect if an enemy ingested his blood. It seemed utterly useless.
He shook his head in disappointment. "Except for vampires, who would be crazy enough to drink my blood?"
Right at that moment, outside the small greenhouse, Quirrell's figure was approaching. Voldemort's voice suddenly rang in his mind, filled with a raw, passionate greed, like a starving man before a feast.
"Quirrell," Voldemort hissed impatiently, "in there… the smell of the boy is so fragrant. Why does he smell so good? His blood! His blood will have more effect on me than a unicorn ever did! Go! Do everything you can to get his blood!"
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