Grimm slowly turned his gaze back, the eerie eyes behind his pale mask fixed on the icebound monolith that had cracked open a narrow fissure. “This sensation… could it be a seal?” he murmured to himself, suspicion curling in his chest. Logically, an apprentice sorcerer should not be able to wield a sealing spell. The energy balance required was far too precise. Yet, if combined with certain innate manifestation talents and a concentrated mentorship from a master sorcerer, perhaps there was a faint chance. Crack… snap… snap… While Grimm pondered, two more fissures tore across the giant ice formation, as if a lurking monster within were stirring awake. The fragile ice could no longer contain the terrifying creature within. “What a coincidence… the battle is unfolding right above the Hidden Rift I inhabit. Could it be… that I inadvertently broke the seal when I emerged? No wonder ev

Grimm forced himself to remain completely still, every ounce of his focus trained on the unstable forces gathering in his hands. It was as though he were trying to merge two fundamentally repelling elements into a single coherent form. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the raw strain of casting the Undying Flame Sorcery for the first time in reality after years of simulation in his mind. A single miscalculation in the mental projection of the Inferno Convergence could have ended him outright. Gradually, as the repelling elements coalesced, a small, stable orb of deep crimson energy formed between his palms. Relief surged through Grimm. The fusion had held—at least for the moment. No catastrophic misfire had occurred, and even the minor instabilities that remained were within his capacity to control. He allowed himself a confident smile, pressing his hands together with deliberate force as the crimson sphere expanded rapidly, soon reaching the size of an

The crimson-crowned, one-eyed creature of BlackstoneSpire vanished into the Secret Realm with Hillwood’s death, carried away by a towering pillar of pure Arcane Energy that shot from the sky. In that fleeting instant, Grimm felt the surge within him as the mark upon his brow erupted with a torrent of points, flooding his consciousness. Four thousand seventy-seven digits flashed before him. “So much?” Grimm’s mind trembled at the sheer number. His thoughts raced. The way points accumulated during the Tower Qualification meant that the strongest apprentices would naturally gather them faster over time. Hillwood had amassed four thousand seventy-five points in only two days. That meant, if Grimm’s understanding was correct, such accumulation in the span of a single day was extraordinary—bordering on inconceivable. And yet, a theory solidified within him: should a wizard apprentice die during the Tower Qualification, all the

A day had passed. The sky blazed with a sinking crimson sun. A young sorcerer apprentice, panic etched across his features, crushed the badge in his hand with a despairing scream. As the firelight gradually receded, Grimm remained perched beneath his pale mask, feeling the surge of points from the badge imprint on his forehead. Yet there was no glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. Instead, a bloodshot fury burned within them, exhaustion mingling with a faint, terrifying malice. The Crying Branch had lost its effect, and at last Grimm understood the nature of the curse he now endured. Every time he closed his eyes, an invisible presence assaulted him—phantoms of attacks from behind, or hallucinations of Lafey, Binson, and others desperately calling for help. Yet the moment he opened his eyes, everything returned to normal, leaving no trace of the earlier disturbances. Perhaps Grim

Whistling through the blackened earth, two figures streaked toward yet another unfamiliar spire forest. They landed upon a stone platform at the forest’s periphery, the ground beneath them damp and lifeless. Kretia closed her eyes, tuning her senses to the ambient magic. Moments later, she opened them and turned to Grimm. “No trainees here possess over three hundred Badge Imprints. We’ll need to push deeper into the forest to find them.” Grimm’s eyes, sharp beneath the Blood-Eyed Pale Mask, flickered with agreement. “Understood.” With a nod, he led Kretia toward the forest’s heart. A massive battle axe now rested across his back—a top-tier Arcane Artifact suitable for a sorcerer apprentice. Though not perfectly wielded, Grimm made do, the instrument a silent testament to his adaptability. Scanning the sparse movement of sorcerers in the distance, Grimm’s brow furrowed. “We’ve flown this far and still no high-imprint trai