Breaking Through, Elementary Mage!

In the stone chamber of the cave, rows of zombie puppets were arrayed, guarding the surroundings of the passage.

These low-level zombies were becoming less valuable, not only because of the birth of the Black Knight but also because their master's soul was growing stronger.

A resonant tremor echoed through the soul, and the zombie puppets all prostrated themselves on the ground, an emotion they couldn't comprehend forcing them to kiss the earth in submission.

Sensing this fluctuation, the Black Knight outside the stone chamber slowly rose and walked in.

"How long have I slept?"

Lowett was in a deep sleep while repairing his soul, so he couldn't accurately judge the passage of time.

The Black Knight handed him a set of tailored formal wear and paused before grunting.

"Five days?"

Lowett took off his sleepwear, tidied his hair in front of the mirror, and then his lips curled into a smile.

"Not bad."

After a month of hunting pirates and absorbing the souls of the Navy taken from Branch 153, hundreds of soul orbs had been consumed. Digesting them for only five days was an achievement Lowett was proud of.

Momonga's rush to the East Blue to suppress pirates gave Lowett a sense of urgency. He was weak, utterly defenseless against the monsters in his memories.

Strength!

He desperately needed strength!

To achieve his goals and protect himself.

Now, his efforts had paid off. After five days of adjusting his state and five days of digestion, the volume of his mental energy orbs in his soul sea had increased more than tenfold!

Five days ago, he was as weak as a firefly; now, he was at least as bright as an incandescent lamp.

The recovery speed of a Necromancer wielding the "Soul Devour" technique was evident.

As long as there were enough souls to devour, even soul fragments torn into thousands of pieces in the spatial turbulence could be restored and healed. Therefore, the recovery speed for ordinary soul injuries was unimaginable.

The surge in mental power was merely a superficial manifestation. Mental power was an evolution of the soul, a measurable unit of account. It truly represented the essence of a soul's continuous growth.

If Lowett's strength had remained at the threshold of a Mage Apprentice or an Elementary Mage five days ago, he had now crossed that threshold and advanced to become a formal...

Elementary Mage.

Even if no other Elementary Mage in the world was stronger than him, he was still an Elementary Mage.

To become a formal Mage, the soul must undergo a sublimation.

Besides "Spell Apprentice" and "Mage Apprentice," the familiar Mage ranks were Elementary Mage (Apprentice Mage), Formal Mage (Scholar), and High Great Mage.

Titled Mage and Ten Saints were honorific titles and not counted in actual ranks.

Ordinary Mages could not use them at all.

A Lich, who might have lived for nearly a thousand years, might only be slightly stronger than the standard for a Formal Mage. The path of magical research was long and arduous, fraught with thorns; effort alone did not guarantee strength.

Only those who were truly gifted and possessed heaven-defying luck could step through the door to the new world beyond and be called a "Great Mage."

Such beings were rarely seen, appearing only once every few centuries.

Then, when they distinguished themselves in a particular aspect, becoming so powerful that the world feared them, unable to even muster the will to look up, they would receive a title.

And then!

When someone among the Titled Mages stood out above the rest, leading the pack, only then would they be qualified to join the Council of Ten Saints.

"Ten Saints" did not necessarily mean ten people; the founders were ten. Throughout the tens of thousands of years of Mage history, eras where ten people could be gathered were as rare as a single grain of sand in the vast ocean.

From this, it could be seen that "Formal Mage" was the first hurdle in the Mage world's strict ranking system, distinguishing geniuses from the mediocre.

Soul sublimation was also the sole criterion for a "Mage" to surpass "Human"!

"Not to mention... with my current mental energy, I can't even see where the door to becoming a Formal Mage is."

Lowett shook his head and stopped thinking.

After all, he had only been in this world for a few months, and he had already surpassed the achievements that most ordinary individuals would need a century of effort to attain. What was there to be dissatisfied about?

Rustle...

A mass of black, viscous smoke spread from the severed limb, writhing in the air before forming a dark, arm-like shape under the restraint of his mental power, extending from the severed limb.

Necromancy · Withered Black Sand!

Lowett, using this "arm" capable of poisoning an adult with a single grain of black sand, took the top hat handed to him by the Black Knight and gently placed it on his head.

"Hmm, nice! It really is more comfortable like this."

Looking at the man in the mirror – dressed in a black gentleman's suit, with black epaulets on his shoulders, black thorn gloves on his hands, a black top hat on his head, pale features, black hair falling to his cheeks, and a slender build – Lowett nodded with satisfaction.

The attire was handmade by the Black Knight. As a modified being, he didn't need extensive tailoring experience; he just had to follow orders and weave the threads into the appearance shown in the picture.

The suit wasn't pure black; the epaulet buttons were a brilliant gold, adding a sense of depth.

However, under Lowett's inexplicably oppressive aura, these decorative colors were destined to be ignored.

When night falls, even the most beautiful crystal in the sunlight will eventually dim.

"Something's still missing..."

Lowett frowned slightly, then his eyes lit up with understanding after a moment.

A crisp tapping sound rang out, and a staff with a golden ring appeared in his right hand. Without dwelling on its material, the scene was like a magic trick.

Rustle...!

A faint gust of wind sounded, and a black raven flapped its wings, appearing on his shoulder. It had beautiful, ruby-like eyes that glittered crimson in the darkness.

"There, all set."

Looking at himself in the mirror, Lowett felt a pang of emotion.

The first time he had dressed so formally in his life was on the morning he declared war on the Saint Auckland Magic Empire.

At that time, seven Great Black Dragon Lords stood behind him, and outside the window stretched an endless army of Black Knights.

It was also from that day that the "Count Francis," a descendant of the empire's founding heroes and a hereditary noble, ceased to exist.

In the terrified eyes of the world, only the [Black Count], Lowett Francis, remained.

However, now...

A half-finished Black Knight, and a few hundred cannon fodder tools outside.

"Triangle Spellbreaker, what a ridiculous title!"

Lowett made no effort to hide his disdain for the Navy's aesthetic sense, declaring forcefully, "Even if I've fallen this far, I am still a Titled Mage, the Black Count!"

"Black Knight!"

He turned, his face stern.

"Roar!"

"I'm hungry."

"Roar?"

Having slept for five days without a drop of water, it was a miracle he hadn't starved to death, thanks to magic.

So...

Perhaps it wasn't the Ten Saints' twisted sense of humor.

Some pride doesn't change with the times; it's etched into a person's very bones, something that can't be altered even if their soul is erased.

East Blue, Branch 16.

"You mean to say your Captain is out hunting pirates and won't be back for a few days?"

In the spacious office, Momonga sat expressionlessly in the main seat, looking up at a Vice Captain standing below.

The Vice Captain's forehead was beaded with cold sweat, sticking his hair to his skin. Upon hearing the question, he snapped to attention and saluted.

"Yes!"

"The Captain is extremely anxious about the ghost ship incident and has been traveling at sea for many days without returning home. He received the notification and is rushing back as quickly as possible, but the exact time is undecided."

"I see. That must be very tiring."

A cold glint flashed in Momonga's eyes before he stood up.

"In that case, please accompany me on a stroll around this area."

"Understood!"

The Vice Captain breathed a sigh of relief and quickly ran off to make arrangements.

After he left, the adjutant sneered and said in a low voice.

"He definitely won't take us to any problematic waters."

The waters managed by Branch 16 were neither vast nor small. Without a local guide, they'd be completely lost. As the saying goes, a strong dragon cannot suppress a local snake. Once at sea, they wouldn't be able to discern right from wrong.

"Therefore, your mission is a heavy one."

Momonga unclenched his fist, and a dried fruit was crushed into powder, slipping from his palm.

"Even now, I hold a sliver of hope for them, unwilling to believe that they, as Navy personnel, could be so wicked."

"But..."

"If it is truly confirmed without a doubt."

His distinctive mustache twitched slightly. Without drawing his sword, a resonant hum pierced their eardrums.

"Kill!!"

Sengoku sent Momonga to the East Blue with a tacit understanding.

Back when they discussed the matter, Sengoku had already harbored the intent to kill, but the situation was still under control, so he remained inactive.

However, the subsequent mysterious massacre of Branch 153 shocked the East Blue, and the flames spread, breaking the balance.

At this point, pretending not to see would be foolish. Violence couldn't solve the problem, but it could solve the people causing the problem!

As Fleet Admiral, if he could sacrifice the innocent Lowett, he naturally wouldn't show mercy to these sources of chaos.

However, there was a degree that needed to be maintained.

This was why he had dispatched Momonga, an old general.

They couldn't kill them all, or the East Blue would fall into chaos.

But they couldn't not kill them either; they needed to make an example of them!

If you find this book to your liking, please remember to add it to your bookshelf to avoid losing it next time.