Countless individuals have long been curious about the true stage standing of Ansel, or the Hydral clan.
To comprehend this matter… one must first grasp the significance of the various stages of extraordinary beings.
Is it determined by the amount of ether contained within their bodies; the level of ether they can manipulate; or simply the magnitude of their destructive power? No, none of these are accurate.
The essence of transcendent stages lies in the metamorphosis and ascension from the ordinary to the extraordinary.
According to the most prevalent classification, the Heavenly Road, the first stage involves using rituals and extraordinary artifacts to transform oneself, enabling the once feeble mortal body to adapt to ether from top to bottom, inside and out, laying the foundation for the journey to transcendence—the [Keystone].
The second stage involves ascending upon this transformed body, ceaselessly refining one's capacity to contain and control ether. In the final stage, the soul, once bound by the flesh, is liberated, achieving perfect unity with the body and reaching the [Crystal Staircase] of the Throne.
The third stage occurs when the transformed body and sublimated soul merge perfectly, allowing the being to truly transcend the mortal realm, freely commanding the ether in the atmosphere, land, and ocean without relying on rituals, thus becoming an extraordinary being who resides on the [Throne].
Subsequent stages, such as the [Scepter], [Crown], and the truly [Supreme] beings who are few and far between, are not distinguished by their power or energy levels, but rather by their essential nature—their ultimate ascension.
It is only through this fundamental transformation that extraordinary beings can attain unimaginable power, rather than merely accumulating power for self-elevation.
Thus, Ansel and all Hydrals are born with their stages predetermined. Even though they have now transformed from their original ferocious beast forms into beings indistinguishable from humans, their essence remains unchanged.
— From the very beginning, all Hydrals have reached the end of the transcendent stages—the abyssal [Endpoint].
Their "growth" simply involves effortlessly absorbing power until it matches their stage. Even if they do nothing and do not deliberately pursue strength, their every breath will bring them closer to a power comparable to the apocalypse.
There are very few creatures in this world with such characteristics—the dragon race dwelling in the Celestial Path Mountains, the Tidecallers hidden in the deepest depths of the Lost Sea, the eternal rulers of the Flamefeast Empire, and… the indestructible supreme calamity, the Hydrals.
The strongest among these four creatures, or races, are born capable of reaching the end of the Heavenly Road. However, the Hydrals are unique in that they do not form groups. Each generation of Hydrals will only give birth to a single offspring at the end of their lives.
Returning to the main topic, Ansel has always been at the unattainable Endpoint in terms of his transcendent nature, but his current power is, of course, not commensurate with his stage.
The strength of the Hydrals stems from the different powers brought by their nine heads, each of which possesses a "gift" that drives all extraordinary beings to envy and madness. Ansel, with only one main head and no pact heads, is considered the weakest Hydral in history from an external perspective.
So, just how weak is he?
"Shadow Leap and Shadow Transformation essentially involve using ether to protect oneself while entering the shadow plane."
Ansel explained, one hand behind his back and the other wielding a blade whip, effortlessly impaling an assassin leaping out of the shadows.
However, just as the Baron of Howling Wind's punch had not caused any actual harm, the assassin strangled by Gleipnir disintegrated into shadows and vanished eerily.
"But this is dangerous. Most shadow-related spells are taboo, not because they drive people mad, but because they are likely to cause death."
With a casual flick of his wrist, the golden-haired youth's sharp, black blade whip tore through the air with a piercing shriek.
"The essence of the Crystal Staircase stage cannot support frequent entry into the shadow plane, which means... this Mr.assassin, is entirely different from the real assassin I killed yesterday, because he is not human at all."
"He is merely a construct disguised as a living being."
Swish!
The whip's blade suddenly shattered, spinning and striking the ground, cutting through a patch of burning grass and extinguishing the flames.
"So, relying on him to exhaust his ether and physical strength, or attempting to kill him by force, are both incorrect options. He is merely a shadow construct created by the distant spellcaster, and under normal circumstances, it is impossible to eradicate him before the spellcaster's ether is depleted."
" — Seraphina," Ansel continued, still at ease as he glanced at the lone young wolf girl.
"How did you choose? Hehe... no need to answer, I can tell by your expression."
"You've dead once," the young Hydral turned his head, disregarding Seraphina's troubled expression, and continued his instruction.
"However, the threat of the shadow creature remains paramount. You see, with me restraining it, the Baron of Howling Wind, despite being severely injured, can still hold his own against a heavily armored warrior wielding a sword and shield."
The battered Baron of Howling Wind seemed to be fighting desperately, his frenzied punches pounding against the warrior's shield, forcing the opponent to retreat step by step.
"So, eliminating him is still the top priority, but the question is... how can we annihilate a lifeless shadow creature?"
"Kill the sorcerer? They are prepared for Gleipnir, and if we miss, even if I could kill the [Crown] with a single shot, it would be meaningless. Moreover... as a teaching subject, you wouldn't be able to hit him anyway."
"So, keep exhausting and delaying until his ether runs out? Can you be sure how long it will take? Can you guarantee he hasn't brought any recovery potions? In the meantime... what if the sniper returns?"
Ansel, not hearing the voice behind him and not looking back, raised two fingers: "The second death, Seraphina."
"Think about it... there are indeed powerful sorcerers in this world who can cast spells to kill people from thousands of miles away, but if this assassin had such abilities, why would he need to get so close?"
The silent Seraphina finally spoke, her eyes fixed on the unmoving sorcerer standing high above, whispering, "Casting... distance!"
"That's right, distance. So, do you choose to change the battlefield and extend the distance?" Ansel raised an eyebrow slightly, and another blade burst from his blade whip, flying to an unknown destination.
"I..."
"Hesitating, faltering, unable to move forward, the third death," Ansel interrupted Seraphina's words.
"See? The warrior entangled with the Baron of Howling Wind is being suppressed but has been specializing in defense, keeping him restrained in the vicinity. Are you sure you can break free from his control?"
The young man sighed, and as his blade whip danced, he effortlessly killed the leaping assassin once again, turning him into a shadow of nothingness: "Distance, distance. He's not casting fireballs from a distance; he's manipulating creatures from afar. Manipulating puppets requires threads, and if this shadow assassin's body lacks a control core, there must be—"
"Other casting mediums!"
Breaking free from the strange sensation, Seraphina shouted, finally realizing the true strangeness of this battle. She scanned the chaotic fishing grounds, where the ground had been torn apart by the fierce battle, and scattered flames still burned around her, remnants of the massive fireball's explosion.
...Flames?
"Flames are light, and with light comes..."
With a hiss, Gleipnir's densely arranged blades scattered more than a dozen pieces, their unparalleled sharpness rotating and cutting through the burning grass.
"...shadows." As Seraphina weakly murmured her answer, Ansel had already cleared all the flames from the field.
From the beginning, when the first blade flew out, Hydral had seen through everything.
This insight made Seraphina feel both false and absurd.
He was just a guy who drank all day and talked nonsense with nobles. Why would he—
Wait...
Seraphina suddenly realized that her workload these past few days seemed... not much.
Apart from going out, Ansel never took her with him but provided resources for her to train on her own.
At that time, Seraphina had secretly mocked Ansel, despising his laziness, and confidently believed that it wouldn't take long for her to astonish him.
But Seraphina never thought about what Ansel was doing when she couldn't see him.
Or rather, she thought about it, but only thought of things that would make her look down on Ansel. She never considered the possibility that Ansel was also learning and honing himself.
"You're daydreaming, Seraphina, your fourth death."
Ansel shook his head, "Reflect on things after class; now is the time for practical combat, and it's not over yet."
The blade whip nimbly swept across the lawn, absorbing dozens of sharp edges back into its body.
"This heavily armored warrior was teleported here by the sorcerer, which means that the sorcerer must have mastered at least fire, space, and shadow magic, with shadow being their specialty."
Ansel casually approached the fierce battle between the Baron of Howling Wind and the heavily armored warrior, speaking at the same volume, but as the distance grew, Seraphina had no choice but to follow... or rather, there was no "no choice," only to actively follow.
The bewildered young wolf, who had never seen such a fight, willingly followed in Hydral's footsteps.
"While keeping this information in mind, what should we do next? Try to kill the enemy with all our might when it's isolated and helpless?"
"…Shouldn't we?" Seraphina hesitated for a moment, asking somewhat unwillingly.
In her eyes, the armored warrior was clearly in a state of decline, with the shield and armor being bombarded by the Baron of Howling Wind's fists, creating numerous cracks. It was estimated that it wouldn't last long before being shattered by the enraged Baron.
"From the perspective of the battle situation and the balance of power, it is indeed the right choice, but... have you ever thought about one thing, Seraphina?"
"A pawn used to keep the Baron of Howling Wind tied to the battlefield, making it easier for the sorcerer and sniper to assassinate him, bearing the brunt of the frontal firepower, and almost certainly doomed to die..."
As the Baron of Howling Wind roared and punched the warrior's head, Ansel's blade whip had already reached the pawn warrior's neck first, then flung him high into the sky—
"As a sorcerer with decent fire magic, why wouldn't I add some extra ingredients to him, like, for example…"
As the blade whip mercilessly strangled the shattered armored warrior, Seraphina saw the crimson molten light gradually bursting from the cracks in the armor!
"—A sacrificial explosion?"
Boom!
A terrifying explosion, even more shocking than the castle's safety room blast, erupted in the sky, and Seraphina could even feel the scorching heat wave burning her cheeks.
The girl stared blankly at the flames and thick smoke dissipating in the air, and heard the voice of her "teacher."
"The fifth time."
Ansel looked at the pitiful young wolf with a helpless and tolerant gaze, "In this practical combat, even if all the previous choices were correct and you barely made it to the end, you still wouldn't have a chance to survive, Seraphina."
"…"
The silver-haired girl lost all her strength and slumped to the ground.
Her eyes were somewhat hollow, trembling, and mostly… disbelieving.
She couldn't believe she was so vulnerable.
But the fact was right in front of her, vividly and meticulously laid out by Ansel.
The fact was that she would die five times, or rather, if it weren't for Ansel's guidance, she would have died the moment she was surrounded by these assassins.
Even with such patience, almost being supported all the way, she would still have to pay the price of her life for her wrong choices in the end.
Seraphina didn't think about anything—she wasn't ready to participate in such high-level combat, or that her intuition would be useful in actual combat. She didn't think that way.
Because the person who easily saw through the assassins' actions, purposes, and methods, easily neutralized them, and even had the leisure to teach her what to do, was standing right beside her.
Caring, tolerant, and patient, looking at her without saying, "You disappoint me."
Instead… with a look that said, "Although you didn't do well, it's not your fault," he calmly and gently looked at her.
The young girl's body trembled, her sharp canine teeth piercing her lips, allowing the metallic sweetness of blood to flow into her mouth, yet it could not quench the burning indignation and humiliation within her chest.
Once so disdainful of the other, she who saw through him so clearly, how could she have the face to seek any excuse?
"You seem quite distressed, Seraphina," Ansel stood beside her, speaking softly and gently, "It's just a lesson, no need to take it to heart."
"…Mind your own business," she muttered.
The girl's bloodstained lips parted slightly, not lashing out rudely, but merely whispering hoarsely.
Somewhat fragile, somewhat helpless.
After Ansel shattered her pride, Seraphina once again faced indescribable agony—her once-proud talents and abilities were so easily defeated.
Just as Ansel had once told her.
["You are worthless."]
["No one cares about your talent, no one cares about your power. Seraphina, you must understand one thing, your existence, in the eyes of the Red Frost nobility, holds only one value."]
["—That is to win my favor."]
Ansel observed the girl for a while, then began to chuckle, his laughter growing louder without any attempt to conceal it, yet somehow… it lacked any hint of mockery or contempt.
"Seraphina, my dear Seraphina."
Ansel caressed the girl's snow-white hair, and she shivered slightly but did not resist.
"Do you know how much I've sacrificed to become who I am today?"
Effort.
Monsters like Hydral never needed to make any effort; they only had to find a suitable pact head and wait for the right moment to arrive, then they could look down upon all living beings.
But from birth until now, for sixteen years, Ansel had not chosen any pact head, so if he wanted to be powerful, he had to work hard like everyone else.
To make his effort.
"I began learning combat skills at the age of six, nine hours a day; I started learning magical knowledge at seven, six hours a day."
"From the age of ten, I spent twenty hours a day learning, learning everything I needed."
In Seraphina's incredulous gaze, Ansel's tone remained calm and gentle.
"―Until now. All the knowledge and training have forged me into who I am today."
"I trust your talent, Seraphina. What you lack is what I have gained through my efforts."
"And all of this, I will give to you."
He glanced at Seraphina's hand gripping the collar and chuckled, "So, do you want it?"
"…There's no such thing as a free lunch."
Seraphina followed Ansel's gaze, her eyes falling on the collar in her hand.
"You know the price."
"…"
The girl remained silent for a long time, then finally raised her hand, lowered her head, and slowly put on the collar she deeply loathed.
"You said…" she whispered softly, "You said you would be my sustenance, right, Hydral?"
"Of course," Ansel smiled, "I can provide you with everything you desire to devour."
"…Very well."
The young wolf raised her head once more, her eyes burning with an undying defiance.
With a snap―
She viciously fastened the collar, snarling, "Then just wait to be devoured by me!"
"I'm looking forward to it."
The triumphant Hydral laughed softly.