Raziel stared at the glowing white text hovering in his vision.
The Forge recognized the tenth bell and offered access to Level -7.
He clenched his fists because four days remained and had zero time to explore a hidden dungeon beneath the academy, so he swiped his scarred hand through the air and dismissed the notification to lock the mental door and walk away.
The next four days dragged by and buried everyone inside St. Celeste under a suffocating tension.
Raziel trained his new Gifts until his muscles gave out.
He practiced Anchor Blood in the empty storage room by cutting his own palms with his iron dagger, and he burned the spilled blood to feel the massive power spike.
He practiced the Devourer by standing next to Lucian to sense the stealth magic humming inside the noble's core.
He pushed his physical limits and ignored the exhaustion.
Zorya locked herself in the East Basement to memorize every geometric angle of the counter-shield, refusing to eat or sleep.
