The switch was dead silent. One second, Edward Vistro was surrounded by the damp, blood filled air and gore of the monster pits after a bloodbath. The next, he stood in his Abyssal Cell. His teleportation caused only a slight ripple in the air, which the Null-Stone walls quickly absorbed.
Outside his high window, the first hints of dawn crept across the sky, marking his fourth day locked up. People thought Edward was just a kid rotting in silence. But inside, he felt like a fire that wouldn’t stop burning.
He’d spent over four hours in the estate’s depths, messing up the Marquis’s years of planning. He wasn’t new to this. He knew that everyone would notice the missing Warden and the dead goblins soon. So, before he left, Edward carved an Illusion Rune at the pits’ entrance.
It was tricky mental work. He used his Middle Adept powers to create a Perception Loop. Anyone who entered to drop off food would see the pits as they always were: goblins chattering and Kragthar snoring. It looked Normal, and only those stronger than an Adept could see through it.
Edward knew its limitations. A True Mage rank like his father, Marquis Vistro, would eventually sense the lack of raw mana resonance coming from the pit, or perhaps a curious captain of the guard would venture too far and notice the static nature of the illusion. Based on his previous regressions, Edward calculated he had precisely twenty days. On the twentieth day, the Marquis would finally descend, only to find a tomb of desiccated husks. By then, however, just like his previous regression, he would handle any outcome of the situation.
Edward sat cross-legged on the cold stone, his posture perfect, his breathing synchronized with the rotation of his core. He did not waste a single second. The Marrow Essence he had harvested already tempered his body, so he can now increase his cultivation speed and start his Ascension through the cultivation ranks.
He closed his eyes and began Cultivating. By absorbing the ambient mana of his surroundings, guiding it through his now widened mana channels, coursing through his now tempered body, and following through his refined medrians, he threaded them into a thin like circle ring within his core.
The Fifty-First Circle began to form. Before, making one circle took much time. His channels were weak, and his bones were fragile. Now, his body was stronger because of the marrow essence.
He pulled the energy. The Celestial Needle moved fast. He hammered the fifty-first circle into place. Then quickly began Inscribing another, then another.
Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four.
The circles clicked and aligned like interlocking clock gears, each rotation precise, deliberate, and unforgiving. A familiar rhythm settled into place, one he had once mastered and lost, now returning to him in full. The speed that had once felt natural, then distant, was finally back within his grasp.
Before, every motion had been constrained by the frailty of his body, his mind racing ahead while his flesh struggled to keep pace. Now, those limits were gone. His physique was perfectly built, his constitution refined and balanced, allowing his power to flow without resistance, as though his body had finally remembered what it was always meant to be.
Morning turned into afternoon. Edward didn’t move. The Null-Stones groaned as their enchantments struggled to keep up with him. He was taking all the mana, even the memory of it from the stone.
As the sun crossed the meridian and began its descent, Edward entered a state of Deep Cultivation.
He reflected on his progress. Previously, it had taken him three full days of absolute focus to inscribe thirty-nine circles. It was a pace that the world would call miraculous, but to him, it was a slog. But now, he’s inscribing in an impressive rate.
By sunset, he’d reached the Eightieth Circle.
His Sea of Consciousness vibrated, no longer calm. The Suppression Rune worked hard to hide that he was close to a higher level.
Night fell over the Luminaris Kingdom, and within the Abyssal Cell, the air grew cold enough to freeze water. Edward didn’t feel it. He was focused on the Eighty-Ninth Circle.
This ring was hard, with triangles and circles that finished the Middle Adept stage. It needed mana control that would kill a normal mage. Edward handled it easily. He tied the eighty-eight previous circles into a strong system.
Then came the Ninetieth Circle.
This was the anchor for the Late Stage. As he started it, the marrow essence finally peaked. Heat surged through him.
Click.
The ninetieth circle snapped into place, glowing brightly. The suppression rune barely contained it.
Ascension.
Suddenly, the mana within Edward began to churn and brew, gathering in dense waves as his cultivation base steadily rose. The energy surged through his body with growing intensity, responding to his will as each breath drew in more power, pushing him closer to a higher realm.
He’d done in one day what used to take three. He had inscribed forty circles: a rate that broke all the rules.
Edward opened his eyes as the night ended. He didn’t feel tired. Instead, he felt clear.
His Spiritual Sense expanded again, reaching far. He sensed the dew on the grass, the guards’ armor, and the earth itself.
He was now at the Late Stage of the Adept Rank.
Usually, someone at this level was a veteran in their thirties or forties, leading knights or advising the crown. Edward was fifteen. And he was just starting.
He looked at his hands, watching mana sparks dance between his fingers. The gap between him and his father was still big, but it was closing.
He knew that the most dangerous thing wasn’t power; it was growing faster than enemies could understand. To the Marquis, Edward was still the useless third son. To the world, he was a prisoner.
But to the Great Demon War, Edward was the only thing that mattered.
He adjusted his posture, ready to start toward the One Hundredth Circle—the doorway to the Peak Adept stage.