After returning to the academy, I immediately locked myself in my room and began studying techniques. The first one I decided to examine was Seven Tormentors.
If Keyrin's words were true, this technique had no fixed form and could change depending on its owner's will. Each tormentor could be tailored for a specific purpose: defense, offense, or support.
Opening the notes, I carefully began studying the formation diagrams.
At first, everything came with difficulty. The images refused to stay in my mind, constantly blurring and seeming to resist every attempt to give them a stable shape. However, after some time, I finally managed to secure three stable constructs.
Three tormentors.
Each of them had its own role.
The first was meant to take the main damage upon itself and serve as a shield.
The second was responsible for close combat and dealing damage.
The third supported the other two, restoring their life force.
Closing my eyes, I focused and began transferring the constructed images from my mind into reality.
The air before me trembled faintly, and after a few seconds, the first outlines of figures began to appear. When I opened my eyes, three fully formed shadows were already standing before me: an orc and two elves.
At first glance, they didn't look particularly impressive.
But appearance meant very little in this technique.
I had deliberately altered the very concept of the tormentors. In the original version, when they took damage, they gradually weakened, lost form, and became less powerful. My version, however, was meant to work differently.
The orc grew stronger with every blow it received.
The elf became faster each time it dealt damage to an opponent.
The third tormentor acted as support, draining the enemy's life force and redistributing it between the other two.
I observed the result for a while before canceling the spell.
The figures slowly began dissolving, returning to emptiness.
For now, I could only stably maintain three tormentors, and that remained the technique's main limitation.
Next, I opened the book Call of Blood.
From the very first seconds, it gave off a strange sensation.
The text inside wasn't written with ink, nor with magical script.
The pages had been covered in blood.
Dry, darkened blood, soaked so deeply into the paper that it felt as though it had become part of the pages themselves.
Judging by the author's notes, he had managed to alter the technique by roughly seventy percent from its original form, and that had been enough for him to fight entire hordes of monsters alone.
One particular detail caught my attention.
The author created shields from monster blood that could not only block attacks but also redirect them back at the attacker.
I found myself wondering.
What would happen if I combined Seven Tormentors and Call of Blood?
Was it even possible in principle?
Or would the two techniques begin to conflict with each other?
The longer I thought about it, the stronger my desire to test the idea became, steadily pushing aside caution.
In the end, I summoned the three tormentors once more, took out a knife, and sliced my palm.
Sharp pain was quickly replaced by a familiar burning sensation.
Three drops of blood fell to the floor.
After swallowing a recovery pill, I closed my eyes and focused, imagining the blood gradually changing shape.
One drop was meant to become a shield.
The other two—weapons.
The first attempts failed.
Every time I tried to directly force the blood into the desired shape, it behaved unstably, as though rejecting my will.
Only on the fifth attempt did I decide to change my approach and direct the blood not toward forming weapons, but directly into the tormentors themselves.
For the first few seconds, nothing happened.
Then, the changes finally began.
The orc and elf gradually became denser, losing their hazy outlines. Their silhouettes turned increasingly solid, while the shadows completely vanished, giving way to fully formed bodies.
Crimson lines began appearing across their figures, resembling blood vessels. Blood flowed through their bodies in thin streams from top to bottom, becoming part of the very structure of the technique itself.
Now, the tormentors looked far more complete.
And noticeably more dangerous.
Focusing harder, I moved on to the next stage.
Weapon formation.
At first, the technique resisted again, as if unwilling to accept a new form, but gradually the resistance weakened.
The first thing to appear was a tower shield.
Massive and blood-red, it almost completely covered the orc's figure.
Next came a long two-handed sword, perfectly suited for maintaining distance.
The last to form was a curved blade in the elf's hand.
Its shape looked predatory and perfectly complemented the tormentor's agile fighting style.
For a while, I simply observed the result before deciding to test the most important thing.
Canceling the spell, I waited for the figures to dissolve, then summoned the tormentors again a few seconds later—this time without using blood.
They appeared almost instantly.
The shield and weapons remained, but it was immediately obvious that their condition had changed. Their surfaces had dulled, the shine was gone, and their overall structure had become less dense and stable.
So blood served not only as a catalyst for change, but also as a source of nourishment.
Sooner or later, the supply would need to be replenished.
How often—practice would reveal.
And I would have the chance to test that tomorrow.
The experiment had been more successful than I expected.
Satisfied with the result, I began gathering the necessary supplies and only then noticed how unnoticed the time had passed. Outside, dawn was already beginning to brighten the sky, and only a few hours remained before the trial began.
After checking my equipment one last time, I left my room and headed toward the arena.
As I approached, I caught the assessing gazes of the professors. It wasn't hard to tell from their expressions what kind of impression I was making: no backpack, no group, and no visible preparation—I already looked to them like one of those who wouldn't last long.
Not that I particularly cared.
Calmly enduring their stares, I stepped forward and entered the portal.
Space distorted for a brief moment, and in the very next second, I found myself in the middle of a forest. Damp morning air greeted me, thick with the scent of wet earth and leaves. Somewhere high overhead, birds were beginning to sing, while muted growls echoed from deeper within the woods.
This forest had long since begun living by its own rules.
Since Keyrin was now bound to me, and I would later have to bring her into the academy, sooner or later I would need to reveal some of my techniques. However, my current abilities should be enough even without using dark magic.
Cross-checking with Keyrin's memories, I headed toward a distant mountain barely visible through the trees. It was near that mountain that she had once fought C-rank monsters, which had allowed her to enter the top ten strongest.
The journey turned out longer than I expected.
Along the way, I encountered several three-eyed wolves. After the first battle, their tactics became fairly obvious to me, and before long, I stopped viewing such monsters as a serious threat.
The day gradually leaned toward evening.
And with the coming dusk, the spiders would begin hunting.
Unlike wolves, they rarely relied on direct attacks. Their main weapon was their webbing.
The prey would become trapped, entangled, and unable to escape, after which all the spider had to do was wait until its victim was fully weakened.
As I continued onward, I became more attentive to everything around me.
Now I had to watch not only the ground beneath my feet, but also the trees, branches, and the space above my head.
Thanks to dark elf vision, night had long ceased to be impenetrable darkness for me.
That was why I noticed the massive silhouette ahead.
A spider stood motionless beside a tree.
Looking closer, I spotted an almost invisible web stretched between two trees.
A thin, durable trap, nearly impossible to notice in the dark.
Spiders were far more patient than wolves.
If wolves relied on numbers and aggression, spiders let their prey relax, instilled a false sense of security, and then left them with no chance of escape.
Slowly, I changed direction and began circling around the web in a wide arc, approaching the monster itself.
Step by step.
As quietly as possible.
Trying not to make a single unnecessary sound.
Stopping about ten steps away, I carefully examined my target.
The spider was the size of a small house. Its eight long legs were covered in dense chitin that extended toward its back, creating natural armor.
There were small gaps between the plates.
That was enough.
When only a few steps remained between us, I silently drew my sword and suddenly dashed forward.
Two swift slashing strikes landed on its rear legs.
The blade sank deep, but failed to sever them completely.
The legs remained hanging by shreds of tissue.
At that moment, I mentally cursed my own stinginess.
I should have bought a better weapon while I still had the chance.
Feeling pain, the spider spun sharply and hissed, striking its legs at the spot where I had been standing a moment earlier.
But I was no longer there.
Shifting to the right, I waited for the right opening and put more force into my next strike.
A dry crack rang out.
One of its legs fell to the ground.
The spider began moving chaotically, losing coordination from the pain.
Continuing to circle around it, I methodically delivered strike after strike, gradually depriving it of the ability to move properly. The battle dragged on longer than I would have liked, and only after roughly fifteen minutes did the monster finally collapse to the ground.
By then, nearly all of its legs were already scattered beside its massive body. Breathing heavily after the prolonged fight, I approached and, unwilling to take any risks, delivered another strike to its head. Then a second—more for reassurance than necessity. Only after confirming that the spider was truly dead did I allow myself to relax slightly.
This battle proved more useful than I had expected. It clearly exposed several of my weaknesses at once, and the main one was my weapon. My current sword was already beginning to limit me, and against more serious opponents, that flaw could become critical.
After the trial, I would have to solve that problem—either order a new blade from a blacksmith or buy a finished one. Leaving things as they were was far too risky.
Letting out a heavy breath, I shifted my gaze back toward the distant mountain.
By my estimate, the journey there should still take around another hour, perhaps two.