While Hion was recovering, Greg was training hard in the training room. The homeless boy had been in a deep coma from his injuries for a week.
Greg began to train his body physically. Push-ups, prone and bench presses, squats and several other exercises became part of the boy's daily routine. His mana control training consumed more than four hours a day for him.
Tharmin asked him not to exaggerate, but in vain. If he wanted to become a three-star silver mage at age ten, he should try harder.
An eight-year-old's body is too small to handle so much mana flowing through his body, which would eventually lead to an involuntary overdose of magic.
In order not to accidentally kill himself, Gregorios would use a potion seen in Pitavius' book. That's where the boy's sudden interest in potions came from.
Luckily for Greg, the old man bought exactly what he wanted, as he didn't get a chance to actually look at any merchandise because of the fight.
Turns out he told Felicia about the materials he needed and the maid made Tharmin buy them.
The mana vessel expansion potion, to get the mana control silver level in advance. A potion that expanded the channels responsible for transporting mana throughout the body, thus allowing the user to receive more mana passage through their physical structure without causing extreme fatigue or death.
The potion's effects lasted twenty-four hours. Excessive drinking can also cause death.
Unlike other potions, this one didn't need a cauldron. All he had to do was knead the materials and scrape them out, then mix them in a cup of boiling water at a temperature where Greg couldn't even hold the cup in his hand without getting burned.
After that, it was simply drinking the hot and sour drink. It was like drinking straight from hell.
There was another potion that served to soothe the sting of the drink and its discomfort right after it hit his stomach, but Greg had forgotten to ask Felicia for the materials for that particular potion. He would feel some pangs of pain, unfortunately.
Leaves of yellow hell, celestial herbs, nails of demonic beasts known as wyverns dragon-like creatures but with two legs, earth collected directly from Segular, the continent of demons, and red-hot orchids.
These were the materials he needed to make his potion. In all, they cost more than two hundred pieces of silver and fourteen of gold.
Greg chopped the yellow hell leaves with a knife and crushed them with a wooden kneader inside a metal container. He scraped and crushed the celestial herbs and broke the wyvern nails to pieces.
The red-hot orchids, flowers that burned to the touch, had their petals torn and their stalks cut. The water had been boiling for at least thirty minutes, bubbling continuously.
He then took the earth from the demonic realm, which unlike the earth of Vigiland was purple and pink. Greg then mixed the ingredients with a metal spoon and, when he stopped stirring, kneaded the ingredients a few more times. Finally, it was time to mix the ingredients in the boiling water.
He slowly poured, mixing with the same spoon as before, until the water was completely dark.
There was no need to use up all the sticky dough Greg had made in one gulp, so he decided to save the leftovers for reuse next time. The drink was ready, it had an unpleasant appearance and an even nastier smell that Greg couldn't stand.
With his eyes closed and his nose, he drank the drink from hell that managed to taste worse than he imagined, it was as if they had mixed feces and urine in water and waited a year to serve someone brave enough to drink it.
After he finished drinking, Greg felt the burning sensation go down his throat and into his stomach. A terrible, bitter taste seized his tongue. After suffering from the awful taste of the drink, he began to train his magical control.
It was fantastic! Gregorios could feel the mana coursing through his body like never before. Even golden mages couldn't allow mana to travel so freely through their bodies.
He took a deep breath, feeling the air around him. Greg controlled the mana with such precision that he would be able to impress even the most powerful of mages.
Three hours had passed and he was still focused. Greg's small muscles were bulging and trembling. Sweat and tears mixed with the pain of controlling the mana for the next steps.
Leona practiced fencing with her mother and grandfather right behind Greg. Elluani knew that Greg had reached copper level, but she had never seen the boy train before.
How did a child who lived in the isolated countryside of society a short time ago evolve so much? Not even she was so talented at his age, not even old Tharmin.
Another hour had passed, in addition to the four hours a day, enough time for Greg to be able to break through one of the barriers to the next stage of his evolution.
Five barriers to reach the level of the copper mage and fifteen barriers to reach the level of the silver mage. With each new classification, five more barriers were added, removing the previous barriers and reimplementing them in the next classification, making it difficult to pass between the next barriers.
It was the way of nature or the gods to prevent the unbridled magical growth of living beings.
Greg was completely exhausted, practically falling apart. He was leaving the training room, dripping with sweat, when Tharmin interrupted him.
The old man held Greg's sword in his hands. No longer rusty and stained, but remodeled, completely whole as it should have been. A thin gray blade with a black and gold handle with a green jewel in the middle. The gem wasn't there before, Tharmin must have asked the smith to put it.
It was fantastic. Even the hem looked new.
In fact, Greg no longer remembered asking Tharmin to fix the sword. He was so focused on achieving the three stars that he couldn't remember asking the old man to do it.
"Here's the sword, little brat. Marcus reformed everything he could, even the writings present in it. Even though neither he nor I know what is actually written on that sword." The old man said, handing the sword to Greg and stepping back a few inches.
"What do you mean you don't know what's written on the sword?" Greg asked curiously.
"It's not a language I've ever seen in my life. It is not from the realm of Vigiland, much less Segular. I know the language of demons, I have been in their kingdom like any other soldier in our country's army." He stopped for a moment.
"Even so, there is no third continent. Or at least we don't know of the existence of one. I have no idea where this came from." He finished.
Greg unsheathed his sword and held it in one hand, pointed at the white ceiling. Torch light reflected off the highly polished blade. He finally took it in both hands, careful to read whatever was written on that blade.
He was panting, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Tharmin and Elluani noticed the boy's posture and Leona approached to try to read what was written on the sword.
Greg knew what was written on his sword. In fact, he knew very well that language so unknown to the Dernovs.
It was Greg's old language, from his old country. The English language.