Lucius grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment from his desk and began writing furiously.
Step 1: Deep meditation—Empty the mind, let mana flow freely.
Step 2: Separation of the soul—Focus on detaching from the physical body.
Step 3: Maintaining awareness—Even if mana is imperceptible, the mind must remain stable.
Step 4: Attempt to form the third circle within the soul’s detached state.
He stared at the words, knowing that this was a dangerous path. No records in history spoke of someone achieving this method.
But he had no time for caution.
He sat back down, controlled his breathing, and closed his eyes.
The first night, he concentrated for hours.
Nothing.
The second night, he pushed harder, attempting to will his soul out of his body.
Still nothing.
By the third attempt, exhaustion hit him like a wave, leaving his body trembling. His head pounded, his mana reserves fluctuated wildly, but he refused to stop.
Each failure led to new observations, which he meticulously recorded.
"I can feel a pull… that means it's possible. I just need to understand how to control it."
By the fifth night, he could sense something tugging at his soul, a faint pull that felt like a thread unraveling from his existence. It was small progress, but progress nonetheless.
By the end of the first week, he knew one thing: This wasn’t something he could brute-force. He had to let go.
On the tenth night, he changed his approach.
Rather than forcing separation, he focused on releasing his awareness, surrendering himself to the void. His breathing slowed, his mind drifted.
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Then—
His vision blurred.
For a brief moment, he saw himself from the outside. His body sat cross-legged, eyes closed, completely still.
Shock hit him, and he snapped back into his body, gasping.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. Cold sweat dripped down his back. But he had done it—even if only for a second.
That night, he made more notes than ever before. He was close.
By the fourteenth night, Lucius sat motionless, the candlelight flickering beside him.
He took a deep breath.
His heart slowed. His breath became shallow. His thoughts emptied.
Then—
He was free.
His body sat lifeless, but his consciousness floated above it.
Lucius felt weightless, unchained from his physical limitations. His mana no longer felt bound by flesh. Power surged through him, wild and untamed.
Then—
Pain.
Memories came flooding back.
His past life unfolded before his eyes.
He saw his rise as an 8th Circle Archmage, the halls of the Imperial Academy, the admiration of scholars, the whispered praise of nobles.
Then—
The accusations.
The betrayal.
The execution.
The Emperor had not even looked him in the eye. His disciples, his allies—they had all abandoned him.
Then, he saw him.
Regent Aldric Valstane.
Once his closest friend. Now his executioner.
Lucius watched as his past self stood, bound in chains, before the empire’s highest court. The nobles he once protected sat in silence.
Then, the final blow.
The cold steel of an enchanted blade piercing his heart.
Pain unlike anything he had ever known shot through his soul. His consciousness shook violently.
Instinct told him to flee, to escape.
But then he realized—
"I have to endure it."
His mind screamed at him to retreat, to break free from the torment.
But he clenched his fists—no, his very soul—and forced himself to stay.
He let the memories drown him. He let the betrayal sink in.
He endured the searing agony of death once more.
And as he endured—
Something shifted within him.
His mana swirled violently, forming something new.
His very essence expanded, the once rigid structure of his second circle beginning to warp and transform.
Then—
His vision snapped back.
He gasped, air flooding his lungs. His eyes shot open, and he found himself staring at the ceiling of his chamber, drenched in sweat.
He had returned.
But now he understood.
"If I want to reach the third circle…"
"I must endure it all—till the very end."
