Reyn knew all too well how tough gold-devouring ants were. That day in the shop, the owner had smashed them with an iron hammer like he was pounding an anvil—it took several hard blows to finish one.
The shopkeeper was an ordinary human, and after a few ants, he was out of strength.
Reyn's physical training and strength were, of course, far superior to a normal person's, but at home, he had no tools. He'd never cooked before, so he didn't even have a kitchen knife.
You couldn't kill a gold-devouring ant barehanded.
In desperation, Reyn decided to go out and buy some tool anyway.
What if Hogan showed up right then? If he was that unlucky, oh well—he'd have to deal with it!
He remembered a forge on the next street over, not far from his apartment. Recently, it'd been turned into a mechanic's workshop selling various tools. They should have something suitable.
Hiding the gold-devouring ants, Reyn hurried downstairs, crossed the street, and found the workshop.
It was late, so there were no customers. Just a man who looked like the owner sat at the counter, guarding the goods. From his appearance—canvas apron stained with oil, broad shoulders, burly build, unkempt—this was the mechanic.
A mechanic wasn't a supernatural profession—just a regular human skilled in mechanical tech, something between a repair tech and a blacksmith from his old world.
Of course, most imperial craftsmen were tied to the Mechanics' Guild one way or another.
This mechanic looked exhausted. When Reyn entered, he just glanced at him briefly, with no intention of getting up to serve.
Reyn scanned the workshop and saw a wide selection of weapons. All sorts of longswords and shortswords, greatswords, sabers, rapiers, epees, bastard swords—over a dozen types of swords alone. Axes, daggers, shields, bows, brass knuckles, protective armor, chainmail. And everyday tools too: kitchen knives, hammers, shears, and the like—plenty covering the walls and even piled on tables for customers to test.
Reyn didn't want to waste time and headed straight for the hammers.
Against heavily armored bugs like gold-devouring ants, swords and blades were ineffective. Blunt weapons were needed, and a hammer was perfect.
Ironically, in his past life, Reyn had been called "Hammer."
His name, Shi Jingchui, was given by his grandfather, a war veteran, and it meant "border pacifier." Because it sounded like "shizijin chui" (hammer hard), he'd been nicknamed Hammer since childhood. Friends and classmates called him that, and he'd gotten used to it.
In university, during metalworking practice, Reyn had even forged a hammer himself, which he never let out of his hands after.
His dorm mates, seeing how he treasured that hammer and even brought it to the room as a collectible, often joked, thanking him for not killing them with it...
For a moment, Reyn felt nostalgia for those friends, but he knew he'd never see them again.
Shaking off the sad thoughts, he picked up an iron hammer, swung it a few times, and felt it didn't sit right in his hand.
"Too light."
This hammer wasn't a combat weapon but a regular tool, maybe two or three pounds. It felt like a straw in his hand, weightless.
Combat hammers were there too, but Reyn shook his head after a glance. These few were too heavy—their heads alone were head-sized. Clearly for berserkers or Iron Guards. He could lift them, but swinging? Doubtful.
He was in a hurry to get home, so he grabbed a random octagonal hammer.
This hammer was just like those used on construction sites in his old world—what's usually called a sledgehammer. Only heavier, about thirty pounds, with a meter-long handle fully forged from iron and wrapped in shock-absorbing leather.
Reyn took the sledgehammer in hand, and it was like an insistent voice rang in his ears: "Eighty! Eighty! Eighty..."
The hammer was cheap, just three silver crowns.
Reyn paid and left, returning to the apartment with the hammer. Nothing happened.
He figured smashing gold-devouring ants in the apartment would be too noisy and disturb others. So, taking two glass jars, he went downstairs and, guided by the Voice of All Things, under cover of night, avoiding everyone, slipped to a secluded corner behind the house. There, on a stone, he spread a thick cloth and shook out one gold-devouring ant.
This ant had no elements and was just for practice.
The gold-devouring ant had been in the solution a long time without food, so it was half-dead.
Reyn raised the hammer with both hands, aimed, and brought it down with full force. Thanks to perfect coordination, all his body's power concentrated in his arms, transferred to the sledgehammer, and it struck the gold-devouring ant heavily and precisely.
There was a dull thud, and the gold-devouring ant turned to mush.
Reyn took out a soul stone and pressed it to the corpse. The soul flew out quickly and entered the stone. Even in the dark, he clearly saw the demonic soul in the stone was just a dark clump, without any elements.
He set aside that soul stone, thinking: "Now for the moment of truth."
Carefully shaking out the gold-devouring ant with three elements, he noticed it was noticeably livelier than the last and immediately started crawling, though slowly.
Reyn got a bit nervous: this gold-devouring ant really was different.
He spat on his palms, rubbed them together, raised the hammer, and struck hard again.
Boom!
After the dull impact, Reyn felt recoil in his hands, his thumb joint went numb a bit, and the hammer bounced back. The gold-devouring ant, taking such a heavy blow, didn't die—its carapace just cracked slightly. Its six iron legs scraped the stone, sparking occasionally.
"Damn, it's so tough!"
Reyn couldn't believe his eyes. Seeing the gold-devouring ant stir again, he hurriedly swung the sledgehammer once more, striking while mentally chanting: "Eighty, eighty, eighty..."
It seemed random, but thanks to honed coordination, every blow hit the gold-devouring ant precisely, without wasting an ounce of force. Its body gradually deformed, legs detached from the torso. After a dozen blows, it finally squelched into a flat pancake.
Reyn hastily dropped the hammer and used the soul stone to absorb the demonic soul.
Under his expectant gaze, the demonic soul emerged and quickly filled the white crystal in his hand, turning it into a deep black gem. Three elemental runes flickered faintly and vanished inside; without the Soul Eye, they'd be hard to spot.
"It worked!"
Reyn clenched his fist and pumped it, nearly jumping with excitement.
This gold-devouring ant would be his first demonic soul, his first solid step toward Battle Mage!
Overjoyed, Reyn stowed the soul stone and only then noticed the cloth on the ground was in tatters, and the stone beneath it cracked.
He quickly cleaned up, dumped the two gold-devouring ant corpses in the sewer, and returned upstairs with the hammer.
Gathering all his money, Reyn left the apartment that same night.
He didn't go back to the "Basilisk" tavern but found a small ordinary inn in the Honiton district, separated from Silverstar by just the river. He listened outside for half an hour first, confirming no superhumans inside, then rented a room.
Only as dawn broke and the sky lightened did Reyn finally sleep soundly.
He slept almost till noon, woke refreshed and rested, ate a hearty meal at some tavern, and boarded a carriage heading to the "Violet House."
Just get through today, become a superhuman, and he wouldn't have to tremble in fear anymore.
The carriage reached the place without issue.
As soon as Reyn stepped out and entered, he saw Tarini already waiting. She smiled and approached:
"Lord Reyn, good day."
"Lady Tarini, can we do the ritual today?"
"Of course."
Reyn nodded, handed over the prepared sixty-plus gold shields to the counter maid, and followed Tarini to the back of the "Violet House," into a spacious room.
To his surprise, the half-elf Viola was there too. She was still in a simple, elegant dress, her figure graceful.
Even just standing there, she seemed to emit a faint glow impossible to miss.
"Lady Viola," Reyn greeted, his gaze a bit odd.
The Soul Transformation ritual could be done solo, but it was better with an experienced guide—ideally a superhuman who could cast spells. Tarini was perfect. They'd agreed yesterday she'd lead his soul transformation. For a better guide, he'd have to pay extra.
Viola smiled like a spring breeze and said:
"Lord Reyn, Tarini will still lead the ritual today. I'm just here to observe—you don't mind?"
"No," Reyn replied, still a bit puzzled.
Viola, as owner of the "Violet House," must have seen countless soul transformation rituals. What was so interesting here?
Considering he needed to discuss buying World Tree seed with her after, he suppressed his curiosity.
This room was specially for soul transformation rituals. In the center was a platform like an operating table, covered in runes forming a complete magic circle.
Beside the rune platform stood a table with several items: a syringe, a vial of Soul Devouring Potion, and a white scroll.
"Lord Reyn, if you're ready, lie down," Tarini said calmly, trying to create a relaxed atmosphere to ease Reyn's tension.
"Alright."
Reyn took off his outer clothes and, pretending to toss them aside casually, placed them on a chair. In reality, that was all his belongings, including all his money and the gold-devouring ant's demonic soul.
Left in just his shirt, he lay on the rune platform. As Tarini secured his hands, feet, and waist with sturdy leather straps, she explained:
"Since the ritual is very painful, to keep you from resisting or wasting energy, or falling off the rune platform, we need to restrain you."
Reyn hesitated for a moment. He'd thought he wouldn't need restraining, and tied up, he'd be completely at their mercy.
He almost refused, but the Soul Eye showed no malice from Tarini or Viola, so he agreed.
Once secured, he couldn't move, only turn his head side to side.
Tarini took the scroll, chanted a short spell, and it unfurled. Pale golden symbols flew out and entered Reyn's forehead.
Receiving "Mental Protection," Reyn felt his mind calm, a special sense of security emerging, though nothing seemed changed.
Then Tarini activated the rune platform with a magic crystal.
A hum sounded, and Reyn felt warmth beneath him. Indescribable energy enveloped his body, sharpening his perception of the outside world.
Tarini drew Soul Devouring Potion into the syringe and said gravely:
"Lord Reyn, we begin."
Reyn nodded slightly.
Tarini plunged the needle into his carotid artery on his neck. Her hand was steady. She didn't inject all at once but pressed the plunger slowly, injecting a third of the potion, then stopped.
Reyn already knew one serving of Soul Devouring Potion was about thirty milliliters.
In the world of Ellunes, one milliliter equaled one "jilun." Just ten jiluns of potion were enough for initial soul transformation, unlocking demonic soul fusion and making one a superhuman.
But that was the bare minimum. To become a spellcaster able to meditate, one had to keep injecting after initial transformation.
Every extra five jiluns advanced soul transformation to the next level.
Fifteen jiluns was the spellcaster threshold; twenty jiluns qualified one as a mage or any other supernatural profession rep.
Beyond that, each extra jilun was agony.
Twenty-five jiluns was genius-level even among mages, one per decade.
The more potion injected, the fuller the soul transformation and higher the talent.
Of course, assuming no loss of consciousness during the ritual. Continuing after blackout, even a tiny dose, meant death.
In truth, there was a potion limit—thirty jiluns max, the human limit. More reversed the effect, turning it to poison.
Thus, each serving was thirty jiluns, but almost no one used a full one.
Following procedure, Tarini first injected Reyn with ten jiluns.
The next second, icy cold hit his head, and unimaginable pain flared. He instinctively clenched his teeth, silent. At the same time, it felt like something dissolved his brain, slowly corroding it with strange sensations.
"Damn, this hurts like hell!"
Reyn endured for minutes, then, deciding pointless suffering, focused on his inner melody. Beautiful music filled his mind: "The wide river covered in waves, wind sways the rice fields, fragrance wafts along the banks..." The pain immediately eased.
In Viola and Tarini's eyes, Reyn's expression softened, as if growing accustomed to the pain.
They exchanged surprised glances but said nothing, fearing to disturb him.
Unnoticed, twenty minutes passed. Normally, initial soul transformation would've ended. An average superhuman would've hit their limit, unable to continue.
But Reyn looked perfectly calm. He opened his eyes and said:
"Another five jiluns."
Tarini complied at once.
After yesterday's soul test, she knew Reyn could handle at least twenty jiluns, so no surprise.
Reyn's face paled slightly, but he stayed calm.
Ten minutes later, he said again:
"Another five jiluns."
Tarini obeyed.
She watched his condition closely. Twenty jiluns of Soul Devouring Potion total. If he endured, he'd be a mage.
Yet Reyn seemed quite comfortable still, incredibly astonishing her.
Another ten minutes passed, and Reyn said for the third time:
"Continue—another five jiluns."
This time, Tarini hesitated. After twenty, each extra jilun was hugely risky. Better to go slow.
But Reyn insisted, leaving her no choice.
Viola nearby couldn't hold back and approached the rune platform, watching Reyn's ritual intently.
Normally, at this stage, Reyn should've been in unimaginable torment, on the brink, mind fogged, body convulsing uncontrollably.
But Reyn lay utterly calm, and aside from slightly quickened breathing, he seemed merely dozing!
Viola's eyes filled with shock. She even closely inspected the Soul Devouring Potion in Tarini's hand, suspecting a mix-up or wrong dose.
But Tarini couldn't botch it that badly. The potion was fine.
Time ticked by. Reyn, in the ritual, looked relaxed, while observers Viola and Tarini were far more nervous.
Under their stunned gazes, Reyn opened his eyes and said clearly:
"Use all the potion."
Viola couldn't hold back and asked:
"Reyn, are you sure?"
The ability to withstand thirty jiluns and fully complete the soul transformation ritual was called Perfect Soul Transformation.
Such people existed only in legends, each one a genius born once every hundred years. Without exception, they all became renowned figures, and some of them were Holy Soul Mages from the Kemitis High Council!
If Reyn also achieved Perfect Soul Transformation, and word of it got out, the news would spread across the entire empire!
Reyn knew what that meant. He looked perfectly calm and replied:
"I'm fine, Lady Tarini. Proceed."
Tarini's hand, usually steady, trembled with excitement upon hearing Reyn's request.
She had conducted hundreds of soul transformation rituals and seen a few geniuses, but she never imagined she would personally witness the birth of someone with Perfect Soul Transformation.
"Let me."
Viola, seeing Tarini's hand shaking, took the syringe from her and firmly injected the final five jiluns of the potion into Reyn's carotid artery.
Then both women, holding their breath, stared at Reyn. Their hands clenched involuntarily, palms sweating. They feared that in the next second, Reyn would die on the runic platform.
That would be too tragic.
The last ten minutes felt like torture to Viola and Tarini, as if they themselves were undergoing the soul transformation ritual. Time dragged on agonizingly.
Reyn's condition, on the other hand, was quite good. Only his limbs twitched slightly, and his chest rose and fell evenly.
Finally, under their tense, expectant gazes, Reyn completed the soul transformation ritual. He opened his eyes, a smile appeared on his face, and he said quietly:
"You can untie me now?"