The words pulsed in his mind, throwing his thoughts into chaos.
Three simulations. Three deaths.
Surviving this predicament is a suicide mission.
As the thought crossed his mind, a new system notification appeared.
[Simulation Complete]
[Evaluation: Sometimes, luck is a pretty big factor.]
[Based on the simulation, you may choose one of the following rewards:]
[1. View a first-person recording of the simulated life.]
[2. The rank of a Level 7 Magic Apprentice.]
Alaric's mouth twitched. "I choose 2."
The moment he spoke, an unprecedented torrent of scorching mana, far beyond anything he'd felt before, surged into his body. His own mana resonated with it, and after a moment, the new power began to course through his entire being.
Every place it touched filled with a pleasant warmth, but this was no simple purification. Alaric could feel his very being undergoing a fundamental transformation.
This was the Mana Awakening.
Legend said that when an apprentice's mana reached a critical point, their mortal shell could no longer contain such transcendent power. The body would spontaneously optimize itself, shedding its mortal frailty to become a more perfect conduit for mana. It was a metamorphosis from "mortal" to "transcendent being."
Sounds grand, but it's actually pretty common, he thought. In this world, anything touched by magic is considered 'transcendent.' I'm still a long way from the real thing.
After the Awakening, he would no longer be bound by the framework of low-level spells. The power in his every move was now enough to crush any ordinary mortal warrior. He threw a test punch. The force of it created a powerful gust, and the air boomed with a dull explosion.
This was the path of the Magic Warrior. After the Mana Awakening, all mages underwent a fundamental physical transformation, instantly surpassing years of a normal warrior's training. Some mages chose to abandon deeper magical research at this point, instead using their new bodies to fuse magic with close-quarters combat. They were known as Magic Warriors.
Feeling the transformation within himself, Alaric felt a fresh wave of joy.
With this kind of power, crushing Rob will be effortless.
But he didn't act rashly. His body still felt strange, unaccustomed to this transcendent state. He needed to use the next two days to master his new power.
At the same time, he took out the blank magic scrolls he had bought. His previous rank had been too low to inscribe anything but the most basic cantrips. Now, with his explosive growth, he could finally attempt to etch higher-level spells.
Two days passed in a flash.
Early on the third day, his door was kicked off its hinges. Rob stormed in, flanked by several goons brandishing sharp blades. The last one in slammed the door shut, cutting them off from the outside world.
Rob swaggered up to Alaric. He glanced at the half-finished scroll on the table and sneered, "Tsk, tsk. Staring death in the face and you've got time to scribble? Did I beat you stupid?"
Alaric slowly raised his eyes. "Get out now," he said calmly, "and I'll forget what happened before."
Rob froze for a second, then his face contorted with rage. "You're fucking asking to die! I'll show you the methods of the Cult of Bones!"
With a wave of his hand, three reeking corpses shambled out from the shadows. Their skin was like bronze, their bones like steel. They had been mortal warriors in life, and the Cult's dark arts had only made them stronger. The three corpses roared and lunged at Alaric in unison, a terrifying sight.
Yet Alaric's expression didn't even flicker. He brought two fingers together and snapped, "Get lost!"
In an instant, blades of pure mana erupted around him, dicing the nigh-indestructible corpses into pieces in the blink of an eye.
Rob's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his face a mask of terror. "You..."
Before he could finish, a single mana blade sliced through his neck, sending his head flying. Blood geysered from the stump, showering the nearby thugs. The goons, who had seen Alaric as helpless just days ago, were frozen in sheer terror.
One of them, quicker-witted than the rest, turned to bolt for the door.
But Alaric had already made his move. There would be no half-measures. Another flash of mana blades, and the thugs were all cut down where they stood.
Alaric looked at the carnage, at the limbs and torsos littering his floor, and frowned slightly. He'd been in this world for over a decade. He'd seen people killed, but this was the first time he had done it himself.
He quickly steadied his mind and began searching for loot amidst the gore.
The first thing he found was Rob's dimensional pouch. To his delight, it had no complex restrictions. With a simple shake, he emptied its contents onto the floor. He did a quick count. Over one hundred and eighty Lesser Mana Crystals.
Besides the crystals, there was also a small vial of Potent Mana Potion. Both could be used for training, but potions allowed for much faster mana absorption than raw crystals. The vial contained twelve doses, worth at least sixty or seventy crystals.
Alaric kept searching and found various alchemy ingredients and trinkets. Together, they were worth another thirty or forty crystals, though they'd be harder to sell than the potion.
After securing the loot, he searched Rob's minions. They were far poorer. He only found a dozen crystals and some low-quality herbs.
So this is it, he thought. Murder and robbery really are the fastest way to get rich.
He stored all the spoils and walked out of his small house.
The moment Alaric stepped outside, he saw several stunned gazes from the other vendors in the market. They had been watching ever since Rob and his men had stormed in.
They clearly hadn't expected Alaric to be the one to walk out. One of them, sharp-eyed, spotted the blood-stained dimensional pouch at Alaric's waist. His jaw dropped.
Alaric ignored them, heading straight for the hills behind the market and disappearing from sight.
He found a hidden spot and summoned the system interface once more. His rank was now Level 7. The next simulation required a staggering 64 Points.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen that number, but it still made his heart ache. Sixty-four Lesser Mana Crystals. It was a fortune he'd never possessed before.
But he didn't hesitate. He grabbed the crystals. "Recharge!"
He repeated the process several times until he had 64 Points. Then, without a moment's delay, he started the next simulation.
[Day 1: You know that staying in the lands of the chaotic factions is a death sentence. You decide to head for the territory of an orderly faction to seek better opportunities. You once overheard at the market that the domain of the Sunfire Knights lies a few hundred miles south. You decide to try your luck there.]
[Day 2: After running a hundred miles, you come across an abandoned temple and decide to rest. A hunter carrying a dead deer on his back arrives shortly after, also looking for shelter. Upon seeing you, he wisely decides to leave.]