Grimm hefted the Hydra Greatsword, a low growl escaping his throat as he swung it with all his strength toward the corroded mass of crystal and metal before him. A resonant hum filled the air. The sword’s vibration echoed in his ears, yet the jagged combination of crystal and metal remained unscathed, impervious to his attack. Grimm’s eyes narrowed, a mix of frustration and intrigue stirring within him. Whatever ancient alchemical technique had forged this structure, it had defied decay to the point of mockery. Still, Grimm’s heart surged with excitement. The faint reverberation hinted at something beneath—an empty space, and judging by the echoes, a vast one at that. He circled the towering protrusion, searching for weaknesses, and soon a jagged tear in a corner caught his eye. Channeling his magic, Grimm cast a cleansing water sphere over the fissure, washing away centuries of dust and revealing a narrow opening. Time

Grimm’s small cabin glowed with the soft radiance of suspended magical lamps, forming a shadowless sanctuary around the central workbench. On the bench, three vials contained dark green elixirs, their surfaces swirling faintly with latent arcane energy. Grimm uncorked each one, inhaling cautiously. A trace of disappointment flickered across his face as he muttered, “Even at this concentration, they barely qualify as weak sorcerous poisons. At most, one could perform a single mixed-toxin refinement before the body becomes fully immune to this toxicity.” A sigh escaped him. He glanced at the severed branches and the mottled insects, green and crimson, that lay beside the vials. With a shake of his head, he swept them all into the bin designated for waste. “Well, 108 Constitution. Even a single mixed-toxin refinement counts as a gain,” he reasoned. Grimm carefully gathered the dark green elixirs into a small collection for future use. For a sor

The Face of Truth project was a lifelong endeavor for Grimm, a sprawling undertaking that stretched far beyond the immediate horizon of the Sanctum Trials. Naturally, he would not squander precious time in the months leading up to the critical qualification battles, delving into such a protracted experiment. Yet, the knowledge of the Undying Eye was non-negotiable. After mastering the fundamental structure of the human eye and familiarizing himself with other human-derived methods of external perception, more than four months had quietly passed. During this time, Grimm’s daily life had settled into a disciplined rhythm. Mornings were reserved for lessons under Mentor Peranos on the seventy-ninth floor of Blackstone Spire. Afternoons and evenings were dedicated to studying Undying Flame Sorcery in his modest quarters. Occasionally, he allowed himself the luxury of gathering with Binson, Lafey, and other companions—a rare indulgence in laughter and light conversat

Grimm strode along the wide stone avenue that led from Blackstone Spire Academy toward the looming gates of Bramblethorn Forest, yet his mind was far from the forested horizon. He was turning over the details of the biennial mandatory assignments that Peranos had recently issued to the Academy. Beneath his pale mask, his eyes held a depth of calculation. The pupils seemed to drift without focus as he delved into thought. “The assignment site is located on the boundary between Blackstone Spire Academy and Labyrinth Academy,” he mused internally. “It’s a low-grade magic stone mine with an annual yield of a million units. While a million units sounds substantial, when converted into high-grade stones, it’s merely a hundred—an insignificant amount for the Academy’s broader interests. Thus, this task is designated as apprentice-level work, and Peranos, seeing the travel distance involved, conveniently assigned it to me.” The

Grimm was no one to be passively cowed. By attempting to test him, to break the equilibrium and extract advantage, the opposition had abandoned both mystery and parity. Peaceful resolution was no longer possible. Once friction existed, and once the disparity in power was clear, the stronger party could afford no sympathy for the weaker. Without hesitation, Grimm twisted the air before him. In the next heartbeat, he appeared before the giant who had just been thrown back. As he prepared to strike, the same mysterious force that had flung the giant previously activated again, sending him blinking over ten meters. Yet Grimm was ready. Beneath his pale mask, his eyes narrowed. One hand extended, conjuring a massive gravitational pull. The giant, barely blinked away, was yanked back instantly. Grimm’s fist shot forward in a blur, colliding with the giant’s abdomen. A wet, crushing sound echoed. The giant’