A week passed quickly.
Olivier still sat by the lake every day, staring into space, but his eyes were different now. During those first few days, they had been filled with confusion and emptiness, as though someone had torn out his soul. Over the past few days, however, something else had gradually filled that emptiness.
Loa left him alone and continued his daily training as usual.
Tempering his cervical vertebrae had become second nature now. Half an hour every day, without fail.
The second cervical vertebra was harder than the first.
That tingling ache shot straight from his spine to his head, as though someone were pricking his nerves with fine needles. But once he endured it, the feeling of clarity and refreshment was even stronger.
He found that his perception of his surroundings was growing increasingly keen-the fish swimming deep in the lake, the little creatures hibernating in tree hollows on the shore, the large magical beast hunting twenty li away. He could vaguely sense them all through the wind.
His spiritual force was growing steadily.
At this rate, once he finished tempering all seven cervical vertebrae, his spiritual force should reach the level of a Level 9 Great Mage, approaching that of a Saint Magus. For a warrior, that was already inconceivable.
Moreover, Loa himself had found his own unique method of improving his spirit: painting that blended with nature, using his artwork to connect people with the natural elements of the world.
In the future, if an enemy treated Loa as an ordinary Saint Warrior and tried to win through a soul attack, they would experience a counterattack from someone without a Saint Magus's magical power but with a Saint Magus's spiritual force.
That afternoon, the sunshine was just right.
Loa sat on the wooden board