The devil aggrievedly showed Adam its "body" with a chunk missing, then urged him on: "Great master, this stupid crawling beast actually dared to spit on your most loyal servant—it doesn't even see you as worth its notice. I think it should be put to the cruelest possible death!"
Adam did not believe a single word of it. He even suspected the devil had deliberately lured the serpent-type magical beast over to vent its resentment, so he punished it savagely through the contract and said, "Get lost."
The giant python coiled its huge body and sat motionless several dozen meters in front of Adam, transparent venom dripping ceaselessly from its mouth. A python was supposed to be non-venomous; either the one before Adam was a mutated python, or an ordinary venomous snake that had super-evolved.
In the giant snake's eyes, Adam gave off an irresistible, delicious scent. It had not attacked yet only because Adam's energy fluctuations left it uneasy, but as instinct swelled, its urge to attack grew stronger and stronger.
At last, at one slight movement of Adam's body, the giant snake could hold back no longer. Its body contracted and lashed out at Adam like a spring, venom spraying straight at him.
"Too low-level." Adam shook his head, unconcerned. A magical beast of this caliber might cost an ordinary apprentice dearly—might even get them swallowed whole—but to Adam, it was too easy.
There was no need to dwell on the fight: seconds later, a single strike of Adam's High-Pressure Water Line severed the beast's head.
A snake's nerve centers are spread through its entire body, and for a while after being cut off the head remains aggressive. Adam was not about to make such an amateur mistake; he pinned the head in place with psychokinesis, took a specially made corrosion-proof container from his personal storage space, pried open the giant snake's fangs, and collected every drop of the venom that surged through its body like a stream.
The devil came floating over eagerly, its missing chunk already restored. It shifted into a blurry human shape, landed on the snake's body, and said to Adam fawningly, "Master, the snake gall—don't forget the snake gall."
Adam silently slit the giant snake open, took out the human-head-sized gall bladder and put it into his personal storage space, then walked on into the rainforest.
Peter Om was hiding within the territory ruled by Mordo Elemental Tower, waiting for his chance.
The death mark on Adam shone as bright as a lighthouse in the night; Peter could track his position with ease. But he did not dare approach the tower, so he waited for an opening—if Adam ever dared to leave the tower, he would meet a blow meant to kill.
Full-fledged Mages had long lives and ample patience. Peter Om had prepared himself to lie low for years, even to abandon this body—but he had never expected the chance to come so soon.
Early that very morning, the death mark suddenly appeared at a place extremely far from the tower. Peter Om rose abruptly and sped toward where it was.
"You actually dared to leave the tower, to leave your greenhouse. You're asking to die."
Magefoes might lack the combat power to face mainstream Mages, but at least he prided himself on his ability to flee. So long as he killed the apprentice and plundered his soul before any full-fledged Mage arrived, he was confident he could get off the Mage Continent. As for whether Adam could fight back? That was not something he troubled himself to consider.
Two days later he reached the trial site. Before his eyes lay a vast rainforest cut off by a runic barrier. "This is the tower's trial?"
Peter Om cautiously extended his senses and found that every Mage-level energy signature was outside the runic barrier, not a single one within. He gave a cold laugh and said, "Poor little lamb. Looks like you're dead for certain."
In that case, as long as he could slip inside the barrier without alerting the Mages, he could do whatever he pleased.
"Corrupting a barrier? That's exactly what I'm good at."
Peter Om took several things from his personal storage space: a gray crystal ball, the body tissue of several unknown creatures, energy stones, and his own blood.
First he used the energy stones as a base and laid the unknown creatures' body tissue on top, then set the crystal ball at the very top to form an altar. He opened his right hand and let the blood pour down, chanting strange, sinister incantations whose meaning could not be made out.
Moments later the altar crumbled to pieces. Guided by the incantation, the energy settled gently onto the barrier; a hole about half a man's height opened, and Peter stepped through, entering the trial grounds without a sound.
Outside the runic barrier, in a mobile house, two full-fledged Mages of Mordo Elemental Tower were leisurely enjoying themselves. They felt it the moment Peter intruded. One said, "A rat got in. There really are a lot of rats lately—I heard the academy just dealt with a few little rats the other day, and now a big rat sneaks in today?"
The other chimed in, "Heh, seems their defeat in the last tower war has those rats thinking Mordo Tower is a place they can come and go as they please."
"A bit of a hassle. Rats are too good at hiding."
"Hah, I can smell their stupid magic aura right through the barrier. He'll get exactly one chance to use magic above rank one—the moment he exposes himself, I'll go kill him. A rat of full-fledged level is worth quite a few ether crystals."
But neither of them had ever considered this: if a Magefoe never used full-fledged-level magic and simply relied on rank suppression to kill, how many apprentices would survive?
Fall behind and you get beaten—that saying holds true anywhere. Peter Om had no idea that the infiltration he thought flawless had already been exposed; he was still nursing the plan to strike once and flee at once.
He knew too that he would have few chances to act—or rather, it was fortunate he was only a rank-one Magefoe; otherwise he would have been cut down by the Guardians the instant he set foot on the Mage Continent. At the thought, his heart filled with hatred and resentment. Magefoes lived forever in past glory; in their hearts the Mage Plane belonged to them, they were the ones most qualified to rule the world, and even now, reduced to playthings, they could not change their arrogant nature.
Still, he was not overly worried. As long as he did not use full-fledged-level magic, no other Mage would sense him—and yet in the hands of a full-fledged Mage, even apprentice-level magic carried unimaginable power.
Over these two days Adam had wandered the rainforest aimlessly, casually killing whatever magical beast attacked him. He had no idea how big the grounds were, but he had yet to catch sight of a single other apprentice.
Pfft.
A crimson light flashed, and the twisted beast face hanging from a branch ahead and to Adam's left was punched through. It was an ape-shaped magical beast that had been hiding in the dark, hoping to ambush him—but Adam had sensed it first and struck it down.
Adam was just about to step over and collect the valuable body tissue when the devil—listless after its punishment and hidden away in Adam's mind—erupted in a frenzy. Adam lifted the restriction, and the devil's voice rang out in his head: "Master, danger!"
Adam instantly triggered his emergency thread; psychokinesis blazed at full power and five layers of barriers went up in succession, his body hurled backward with the help of his psychokinesis. Right then, from deep in the forest, a bolt of dark light struck the spot where he had just been standing, at a speed the naked eye could never catch.
Where the dark light fell there was no flash, no sound, no explosion—every bit of matter was broken down into nothingness. Adam's pupils contracted sharply and his wariness climbed another level; the power of that spell exceeded his imagination.
Adam raised a hand and sent up a flare to light the darkness. Where his eyes reached, a figure shrouded head to toe in a black robe hovered ahead, energy fluctuations leaking from him unchecked, faintly twisting the surroundings.
It was Peter Om. He looked at Adam with bloodthirsty eyes and said, "Only apprentice-level magic, and cast by me—yet you actually dodged. Clark's death was no injustice after all."
Adam said not a word. He knew he was no match; this had nothing to do with knowledge, or with whether the magic was advanced. This was pure, crushing energy—the man before him could reduce him to nothingness on mana alone.
Peter Om pushed back his hood, revealing an old, pallid face, and unexpectedly gave Adam a slight bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Peter Om, of the Om family, Clark's grandfather." He straightened up. "That death mark on you is my magic."
The words had barely landed when Adam sensed the death mark—which he had never been able to detect before—appear within his spirit, giving off an evil aura.
Adam threw all his psychokinesis into motion, the runes in every thread beginning to touch his mana. He needed to kick up an enormous commotion to draw attention from outside; he did not believe the tower would fail to post full-fledged Mages as overseers.
Peter Om pressed down with one hand, and Adam felt his connection to the ether grow faint. Peter Om regarded him with some displeasure and said, "How rude. As a noble, when a superior extends you courtesy, first you should bow to the ground before him, and then introduce yourself."
The pressure around him surged abruptly, pressing Adam's body down inch by inch; his psychokinetic barriers shattered layer by layer like fragile glass.
Peter Om tapped his head, crushing a wisp of twisted soul in his grip, then said, "Oh, that's right—how careless of me. Getting old makes one forget things. I forgot that among today's Mages there are plenty of low-blooded mongrels and common trash: arrogant, savage, with no notion of courtesy at all. Don't tell me you're one of them too?"
Every joint and tissue in Adam's body groaned under the unbearable load, and the armor plates built by the Psychokinesis Meditation Method were on the verge of shattering.
Peter Om's face turned hideously savage. He raised a hand and slapped the empty air, sending Adam flying: "So you really are common trash. You must be hanged, burned, drowned! A filthy commoner daring to kill a noble's descendant—who gave you the nerve!"