In the following days, Ronan's routine consisted of meditation, viewing the torrent scenes within the All-Seeing Orb, practicing spells, pushing his limits through [Ascetic Body] training, and studying the two runes related to space and mirror spell legacies.
With the Seventh Ring's duel selection approaching, many Ring wizards became "diligent and hardworking."
The entire Ring felt tense with a "pre-exam" atmosphere akin to the end-of-term school rush from his past life.
This tension barely affected Ronan, as his routine was always rigorous.
Ronan found it amusing.
In his past life, he was a lifelong "underachiever," but in this life, on the path of a wizard, he had become what he once despised, envied, and respected—a "top student."
"Is this the potion you mentioned?"
In Benigo's micro-secret realm, Ronan examined a tiny vial, only as large as a fingernail, and inquired.
"What's it called?"
"The Kiss of Mephetira."
Benigo replied, "Mephetira is the legendary goddess of wisdom. Her lips are said to be covered in sharp spikes, coated with a toxin that brings endless pain, but enduring it grants the wisdom of the sun, moon, and stars."
"A fitting name."
Ronan observed the purple-black liquid in the crystal vial, speaking softly.
"I've only prepared one bottle for now. If one reaches your limit, we'll save the remaining materials."
Benigo turned to his cluttered alchemy bench, "I've also prepared another potion. If you can't endure the pain, take this to alleviate it, though it will interrupt 'The Kiss of Mephetira's' effects."
Ronan interrupted calmly, "No need."
"I excel at enduring pain."
He said, then drank the potion in one go.
It was indeed painful.
Even with ample mental preparation, Ronan felt as if his skull was forcibly pried open, hot oil poured onto his brain, seasoned with cumin and chili, followed by an ice spear's freeze.
The pain spread from his head, down his face, neck, and chest, coursing through his body.
The sensation of needles turned to electric shocks, alternating between cold and heat.
Benigo watched Ronan quietly.
The youth went from standing to collapsing, clutching his head, body curled like a shrimp.
Ronan trembled violently, his expression twisted with pain.
Veins bulged across his forehead, face, ruining his handsome features.
His lips were bitten raw, sweat poured off him, eyes wide but unfocused, lost in a haze.
Despite the agony, he remained silent.
Benigo watched, a faint nostalgia on his face.
He, too, had endured "The Kiss of Mephetira," knowing the excruciating pain.
During his ordeal, he wished countless times for death, for release.
He didn't know how he survived.
If not for unshakeable resolve, he might have succumbed to the pain.
Benigo frowned, seeing Ronan's eyes bleed slightly.
The pain was nearing his limit.
Benigo checked the time, sensing the potion's effects were nearly complete, and turned to retrieve a potion from his bench.
On the cluttered bench sat an orange gemstone-like potion, conspicuous.
It was the "Pain Blocker" he'd prepared.
But as Benigo turned with the potion, he saw—
The youth who had been writhing in pain now stood upright, back straight like a sword.
Ronan looked at Benigo, hair matted with sweat.
His eyes were clear, sapphire blue, with a hint of blood red, washed clean, unprecedentedly lucid.
Ronan exhaled, speaking slowly, "What a passionate and intense kiss, almost overwhelming.
Benigo, please prepare more potions."
"Uh..."
Benigo stared at Ronan, momentarily dazed.
After a moment, he regained composure.
He placed the orange potion back on the bench and nodded.
"Alright."
On a floating island shrouded in rune arrays, sunlight seemed blocked out, casting a dim, oppressive atmosphere despite clear skies.
In the gloom, a pale-skinned young man with black diamond earrings studied a rune stone on the gray lawn before a large black house.
The rune stone was a recording device, and the young man absorbed its contents.
Several wizards stood a few meters away, respectfully awaiting his orders.
After some time, the young man withdrew his mental energy from the stone, taking a communication stone.
"Thank you, Lanny. This information is quite useful.
I'll express my gratitude once I reside in the tower."
A raspy, indifferent voice replied from the stone.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Travis.
Even knowing these guys' strengths and weaknesses, you're still a bit short of securing a top ten spot."
"I know."
The young man's eyes glinted with a peculiar light.
"I know what I'm missing...
I'll soon make up for it."
He placed the stone down.
The young man looked through the island's arrays at the nearby majestic silver tower, its base surrounded by ten glowing gray meditation towers, shadows expanding around him.
To him, the meditation towers represented not just status and prestige.
They were steps to greater heights.
He was about to take his first step.
He wouldn't let anyone ruin it.
"Lynch."
The young man spoke suddenly.
A noble-looking wizard stepped forward from the group behind him.
"Sir."
"Contact Biondini for me."
The young man said softly, "Tell him, no matter what, I want to face that kid in the first round, first match.
His Demon Tungsten is crucial to me."
"Yes."
Lynch replied respectfully, his expression darkening at the thought of someone or something.
Three months passed like sand through an hourglass, grain by grain.
The hourglass emptied, its last grain about to fall.
In the micro secret realm.
Amidst the lush alchemy garden, a youth squatted.
He appeared to be playing with something.
A closer look revealed a small sapling planted in moist soil.
Barely a finger's height, its slender stem bore two green leaves with crimson veins, delicately crafted like gemstones.
The youth gently touched the sapling's leaves, which seemed to respond, swaying slightly.
A voice called from outside the garden.
"Don't fuss with it. The Holy Blood Tree isn't as sturdy as a first-level potion plant yet."
"I know. I'm just talking to it; it understands me."
The youth replied.
His voice was clear and bright, like gems clinking softly.
Despite his words, he stood from the sapling.
Standing, he was tall, not as frail as his crouched form suggested.
He had a well-proportioned, sturdy build, evident even under his robe.
The youth turned, revealing a finely crafted, alabaster face.
His skin was flawless, smooth as if glowing, and his eyes were most captivating.
Clearer and bluer than the purest sky.
Within the blue were countless shimmering lights, deep, mysterious, exuding wisdom and intelligence.
The youth walked through the garden, white hair brushing colorful leaves.
He stepped into the light, seemingly merging with it.
Indistinguishable.
"When will the Holy Blood Tree grow to its full potential?"
He asked the middle-aged man pacing before him.
The man shook his head, "I don't know, I'm more anxious than you.
Even mature, you can't harness its power directly."
"Why?"
The youth was puzzled.
"Our bloodline is too mixed."
The man said, "People here have countless, diverse ancient bloodlines.
Noble or lowly, strong or weak.
The Holy Blood Tree won't know which to enhance.
You might be purified into a 'monster.'"
"Oh."
The youth nodded, understanding.
He ended his conversation and moved to a spot in the secret realm.
There was a rune lab and scattered books.
As he approached the lab, a voice called.
"Damien!"
He turned, confused, finding the man watching him intently.
The man's gaze was complex, indescribable.
"Are you really okay?"
The man paused, speaking softly, "I've never seen anyone survive six 'Kisses of Mephetira.'"
The youth smiled, bright as midday sun.
"I'm fine, never felt better."
He replied, "I finally understand why you were both a spell genius and so knowledgeable, Benigo."
**[Name: Ronan Damien]**
**[Age: 17]**
**[Talent: No Attribute Affinity, Immaculate Body (Active)]**
**[Power: First-Level Official Wizard (99%)]**
**[Skills: Basic Meditation - Void Realm (Master 465/1600)**
**Energy Missile - Particle Torrent (Master 440/1600)**
**Empowered Weapon - Power of Dispelling (Master 258/1600)**
**Ice Sphere - Despair Freeze (Master 328/1600)**
**Frost Ray - Ice Veins (Master 122/1600)**
**Ascetic Body (Master 450/1600)]**
Night.
The orange fire crackled quietly, a pot simmering above, releasing a rich aroma.
Ronan sat by the fire, examining his character panel.
The changes in his power and skills reflected three months of rigorous training.
The pain endured, the struggles, the blood and sweat shed...
Now transformed into clear numbers before him.
The most significant change was mastering a new skill—mid-level zero-degree ice spell: [Frost Ray].
The derived transcendent domain power was—[Ice Veins]!
As for its effect...
It's average, just an added angle to enhance cold.
"Damien."
Benigo approached, holding two silver bottles with narrow necks.
The bottles were open, releasing a rich fragrance.
Benigo handed one to Ronan, then sat by the fire, his black pipe morphing into metal chopsticks, stirring the pot.
Ronan frowned, "Benigo, you always have that pipe. Are you trying to feed me your saliva?"
Benigo glanced at him, "You can skip it if you're squeamish."
Ronan pursed his lips, saying nothing.
Over three months, their relationship had grown closer.
Though still not quite like friends.
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