Nystagmus Syndrome, Flesh Hyperplasia Syndrome

After returning to the dormitory, Ron did not rest immediately. Instead, he began that day's meditation training at once.

Ever since becoming a Potion Apprentice, he had found his perception of mental power had grown sharper.

And the insight into "Rhythm" he had gained during body tempering today seemed to offer an entirely new line of thought.

"If the Corona Breathing Technique imitates the laws of the sun..."

Ron opened the tattered Basic Meditation Method. "Then might mental power also have its own specific pattern of operation?"

He carefully studied the basic rune in the book, which consisted of three arcs.

Before, he had merely copied it mechanically. But now, he suddenly realized—the arrangement of those three arcs seemed to contain a certain rhythm as well.

With that thought in mind, he began trying to trace the rune at different tempos.

Basic Meditation begins

When the first arc took shape in his mind, he no longer rushed to complete it as he had before. Instead, he carefully sensed the flow of his mental power.

Strangely enough, whenever some part of the rune resonated with the fluctuations of his mental power, that arc became exceptionally stable.

"I see." Ron finally understood.

This rune was not merely a tool for guiding mental power. Its very shape imitated the most natural way mental power flowed.

Special effect triggered: Mental Rhythm—meditation effectiveness slightly increased this session

Basic Meditation experience +1

Basic Meditation experience +1

Basic Meditation experience +1

Today's training time has reached its limit. Rest is recommended.

The far greater increase in experience than usual confirmed that his idea had been correct.

Just as Ron was preparing to continue meditating, a sudden commotion erupted outside his door.

"Did someone advance again?" He got up and opened the door, just in time to see a familiar figure rush past.

It was Locke, who had arrived at Black Mist Forest at the same time as him. At that moment, Locke was racing toward the testing hall with an excited look on his face.

"Looks like a Candidate Apprentice has made a breakthrough."

Andre lived not far from him. Having clearly heard the noise, he stepped out of his room as well.

"This has been happening more and more lately. The closer the assessment deadline gets, the more likely people are to make desperate gambles."

Ron understood what he meant. As time passed, those who saw no hope often chose risky measures—

—either daring to attempt dangerous forbidden spells or buying "special potions" from unknown sources.

"Come on, let's take a look. Anyone's successful experience is worth learning from."

Andre waited for Ron to lock his door. "Maybe we'll be able to figure something out."

The testing hall was located at the center of the dormitory district. There was a specially made Crystal Ball there that could measure the strength of one's mental power.

By the time the two arrived, quite a few people had already gathered in the hall.

Locke stood before the Crystal Ball, his face pale but his eyes alight with excitement.

"It's starting," someone whispered.

Locke placed his hand on the Crystal Ball, and dark red mist immediately began churning within it.

A moment later, a fairly bright symbol condensed in the mist. But it looked extremely unstable, flickering on and off like a broken light bulb.

"He really met the standard!" A wave of exclamations rose from the crowd.

It was indeed surprising. Locke had originally been like Ron, someone barely on the edge of the Sixth-Rank Star standard.

Yet now, nearly three months early, he had already reached the Primary Apprentice mental power standard required for the assessment.

"What method did he use?" Discussions broke out all around them.

But Ron noticed that Andre's expression had turned grave. "Something's wrong."

"How so?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"Look at his pupils." With a stern expression, Andre half extended an arm to block the friend beside him as he slowly backed away. "They're far too unfocused, and..."

He pointed to Locke's hands touching the Crystal Ball. They were trembling faintly and uncontrollably. "This may be a sign that his mental power is about to lose control."

Sure enough, amid the crowd's astonished cries, Locke suddenly clutched his head and let out a painful groan.

His previously clear eyes became muddled, and the corners of his mouth began twitching uncontrollably.

"This is bad!" Andre grabbed Ron and quickly retreated. "Get farther away..."

Before he could finish, Locke suddenly let out a scream.

His eyes became bloodshot, and the fluctuations of his mental power turned violent.

The surrounding air seemed to solidify, and everyone felt a wave of suffocation.

"Judging by the symptoms, it should be the aftereffects of a forbidden drug." Andre gritted his teeth and muttered, "That idiot actually dared to try that kind of thing just to increase his mental power."

Ron noticed that the dark red mist within the Crystal Ball had suddenly thickened. The symbol inside began twisting and warping, clearly not a good sign.

Just as everyone who sensed danger began retreating, a white figure flashed into the center of the hall.

The surrounding Candidate Apprentices immediately scattered like a receding tide, their eyes filled with undisguised fear and reverence.

That instinctive dread was not without reason.

As the apex of Black Mist Forest's food chain, official wizards possessed near-unrestricted absolute authority.

But more frightening than authority itself was the invisible pressure that clung to official wizards.

Ron had heard from Andre that when mental power broke through a certain threshold and reached the standard of an official wizard, the magical power within the body underwent a strange activation, forming a special energy field known as a Domain.

This Domain continuously radiated highly penetrating energy outward, something even the wizard himself found difficult to completely restrain.

Although most wizards used special methods to confine that radiation to the smallest possible range,

even so, coming within two meters of an official wizard could cause all kinds of discomfort in those with ordinary constitutions—dizziness, nausea, fever, and, with prolonged exposure, even signs of organ failure.

It was said that people with especially weak constitutions could die within minutes from excessive radiation exposure.

That was also why wizards always preferred to live alone and placed layer upon layer of restrictions around their residences. It was both to protect their privacy and research results, and to prevent unnecessary "accidental casualties."

Ron could feel that as the white-robed figure approached, the air seemed to grow thicker, and breathing became increasingly difficult.

A strange prickling sensation began spreading across his skin, as though countless needle tips were gently stabbing him.

Even from more than ten meters away, the feeling was this obvious. There was no need to mention the apprentices forced to remain closer.

Several Candidate Apprentices standing near the White-Robed Wizard had already gone pale, and one of them even began bleeding faintly from his nostrils.

Yet no one dared complain, much less leave without permission—in a wizard's eyes, either could be considered disrespect, and the consequences were often unbearable.

That was the deterrence brought by the absolute disparity in power.

The apprentices revered wizards from the bottom of their hearts, not merely because they feared their power, but because everyone yearned to become such a powerful person themselves.

"Enough. If you can't take it, move farther away."

As the White-Robed Wizard's cold voice rang out, he waved his wand, and a ring of silver light spread outward.

Everyone was forced directly back to the corners of the hall, leaving only the out-of-control Locke convulsing in the center.

"Interesting." The wizard guessed, "Looks like he took a Mental Catalyst, and the dosage far exceeded his limit."

As he spoke, he took a crystal bottle from within his robes. It contained a strange black liquid.

"Perfect timing. I can use this chance to test this new formula."

Ron noticed Andre's face turn extremely ugly. As someone well-informed, he had clearly seen similar scenes before.

"Don't look, it'll..." Andre shouted in a low voice, but Ron knew he had to remember this scene.

This was the world of wizards—the strong regarded the weak as experimental materials, and life or death could be decided on a whim.

A shrill scream interrupted Ron's thoughts. The bottle of black liquid had already been forcibly poured into Locke's mouth by an invisible hand. His body began convulsing violently, and something seemed to squirm beneath his skin.

The White-Robed Wizard raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. A silver halo tightly bound the out-of-control Locke.

By then, Locke had completely lost his mind. His eyeballs shook incessantly, and some ever-changing geometric pattern was reflected in his pupils.

"Ah... classic Nystagmus Syndrome." The White-Robed Wizard's voice remained calm. "When mortals glimpse truths they were never meant to see, this is the most common reaction."

He paced slowly around Locke, like a researcher repeatedly observing a white mouse in a cage.

"In that case, the Mental Catalyst he took should have been made using the eyeballs of an Aberrant Creature."

At that moment, a strange, warped movement suddenly surged beneath Locke's skin, as if something were writhing through his flesh.

His right arm began swelling. The skin split apart, exposing squirming flesh.

"Flesh Hyperplasia Syndrome." The White-Robed Wizard chuckled softly. "That's rather rare. He actually contracted two forms of aberrant Contamination at once."

Suppressing his discomfort, Ron continued watching. He noticed that the White-Robed Wizard's eyes were trembling faintly too, traces left behind by long-term exposure to occult knowledge.

A nonhuman tone gradually entered Locke's screams. His flesh constantly rearranged itself, forming one grotesque mutated limb or organ after another before collapsing again.

"Stop looking. Let's go back!" Andre grabbed Ron and turned to leave, but those images had already been deeply branded into his mind.

On the way back to the dormitory, Ron remained silent.

Those grotesque scenes kept flashing through his mind—the strange patterns in Locke's eyes, the squirming flesh, the distortions in the air.

What exactly was going on? Why would taking a potion meant to increase mental power lead to such horrifying consequences?

"Andre..." Ron finally could not stop himself from asking. "Those symptoms... the shaking eyes and flesh growth... have you seen them before?"

The blond boy's expression instantly turned exceptionally grim. "Ron, this isn't something you should be worrying about right now!"