How come this arcanist is invincible?

Chapter 6 New Powers

Time flies, and almost two months have passed in the blink of an eye.

boom.

Footsteps echoed hurriedly through the corridors of the underground base.

Shar wore a black silk veil over her face, her exquisite features as cold as ice.

The dim candlelight flickered, casting her shadow on the wall in shifting sizes.

Wherever they went, the black-robed cultists bowed their heads and gave way.

She went straight back to her bedroom, locked the door, and quietly made sure it was safe before whispering a string of strange syllables.

"Squeak..."

A black rat crawled out from under the bed.

Shar handed it a few grains of rice, and after it finished eating, she tied a strip of paper the size of a fingertip to its back with a ribbon.

"Be careful, don't get caught."

The black rat nodded and quickly scurried back under the bed.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door.

"Who?"

Shar composed herself and opened the door.

A black-robed cultist stood outside the door, his head bowed respectfully.

"Your Excellency the Executor, your mentor requests your presence in the council chamber."

……

Council chamber.

The mentor sat in a high-backed chair, and Anjie, in a red dress, was kneeling at his feet.

The mentor's hand slowly stroked her long hair, the movement seemingly gentle.

Ange looked up, her eyes filled with longing:

"Mentor... after the thirteen rituals, will I... really be able to see my child?"

"certainly."

"thank you……"

Shar quietly took in the scene, a chill running down her spine, but she remained outwardly unmoved.

Anjie got up and left.

The instant she turned around.

Shar caught a glimpse of the fine, dark scales on the side of her neck, and her eyes, which had turned into vertical pupils.

Half-demonized.

She remembered that word.

"How is Kane?" the mentor asked slowly.

"Even after multiple Stigmata rituals, there is still no trace of demonization."

Shar replied with her head bowed.

"He frequently traveled between the study, the training ground, and the pharmacy, and the Silent Killers were very satisfied with his training progress."

"very good."

The tutor leaned back in his chair with satisfaction.

"It seems it's time to report this good news to the Patriarch."

I heard the word "patriarch".

Shar's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.

"besides."

The mentor's gaze fell on Shar.

"Protect Kane before the Patriarch arrives..."

Shar agreed.

After leaving the council chamber, the hand that was hanging by his side suddenly clenched tightly.

……

Pharmacy.

Kane watched as the apothecary Sean prepared the tonic, then took it and drank it all in one gulp.

A gentle warmth spread through my body.

A notification appeared on the panel, but he ignored it.

He put down the empty bottle, glanced at the pile of bottles and jars beside him, and suddenly spoke:

"Let me try."

"you?"

Sean shook his head as if he'd heard a joke.

"Kane, I know you have some talent in combat, but potions are another matter."

"It takes at least several years of study for a qualified pharmacist to go from beginner to my level..."

He tilted his head back, as if lost in memories:

"If it weren't for the lack of materials back then, I would have become a professional pharmacist long ago. Fortunately, now..."

"I will not fail."

Kane interrupted him, his tone calm.

Sean was taken aback by this insistence, then burst out laughing.

He stepped aside, looking on with a hint of amusement.

"Alright, come on, but only this once."

Kane said no more and stepped to the front of the stage.

With the system's assistance, he was able to accumulate learning progress each time he observed Sean making potions during this period.

Now, his potion-making skill has reached level 2.

Ignition, preheating the crucible, taking out the material, grinding, and adding it in sequence...

His movements were not flashy, even somewhat rigid, but they were exceptionally stable and precise, with each step timed exactly.

The smile on Shawn's face gradually froze.

The originally turbid liquid in the crucible gradually became clear under stable heat control and just the right amount of stirring, and finally turned into a uniform green color.

Filtering, bottling...

Kane handed over the finished product.

Sean took it, examined its color carefully, and then smelled it, muttering incredulously:

"This...how is this possible?"

"You'll get the hang of it after you do it a lot."

"Have you been watching...too much?"

Sean seemed to choke.

He stared intently at Kane, his expression shifting several times before finally settling into a complex sense of dejection.

"If you hadn't participated in the Stigmata Ritual... you might have truly become a remarkable apothecary, but..."

He didn't finish speaking, but just sighed heavily, a hint of pity in his eyes.

Kane frowned slightly.

During this period, he intentionally showcased some of his own value.

But whether it's training or medication, the reactions of those around them all subtly point to the same fact—

These talents seem insignificant in the face of the "Sacred Mark Ritual".

"It seems we still have to plan our escape after all... We need to speed up the preparations."

Ever since realizing that he might be under close scrutiny, he has been secretly accumulating strength.

The Stigmata Ritual has been performed for the tenth time.

The demonic projections they encountered, from Quassera to Fro, became increasingly troublesome with each encounter.

However, he managed to deflect the attacks using his dagger skills and "Mage's Hand," only resorting to his immortality trait twice.

"But where can we go after we escape...?"

He pondered silently.

"The original owner of this body was a madman who sacrificed his entire family; his identity still needs to be resolved..."

He snapped out of his thoughts and returned to his bedroom.

The room looked a bit messy.

This was intentionally arranged by him, both to facilitate his practice of "Mage's Hand" at any time and as a means of warning.

Each time he left, he would memorize the exact location of every item.

His brows furrowed as his gaze swept over the scene.

Someone came in.

Despite handling it very carefully, the items were still slightly shifted.

Just then—

Bang, bang, bang.

Three knocks sounded on the door.

"Enter."

Kane responded, his vigilance rising sharply.

The door was pushed open, and a black-robed cultist with his head bowed walked in carrying a wooden tray.

"Put it on the ground," Kane said.

The other person acted as if they hadn't heard them and walked straight to the wooden table.

The door slowly closed behind him.

Kane's pupils contracted.

There were many mad cultists and strange individuals in the stronghold.

But this deliberate disregard and overly "natural" closing of the door...

Just as the black-robed cultist bent down, preparing to place the plate on the table—

The two figures crossed paths.

"Go to hell."

With a low shout, the cultist drew a dagger with his left hand and delivered a swift elbow strike to Kane's chest with his right.

Using this force, the dagger silently pierced his lower abdomen.

Kane's heart pounded, and he instinctively tried to use "Hand of the Mage" to recall the dagger, but then he instantly became alert.

You cannot reveal your magical abilities.

He blocked the elbow strike, then stretched out his left hand and grabbed directly at the dagger that was thrust at him!

scoff!

The sharp blade sliced ​​through the flesh, and blood gushed out, staining the palm red.

As the excruciating pain shot through him, Kane, who had been poised to strike, delivered a powerful kick to the knee of his opponent's supporting leg!

The assassin clearly hadn't expected him to retaliate in such a self-destructive way; he froze, staggering half a step.

"Who sent you?"

Kane's mind raced:

Internal strife within the sect? Or the arrival of outsiders?

The assassin glanced at his bleeding hand, then at his slightly rapid breathing, his eyes filled with suspicion and uncertainty.

"Such a reaction and skill in such a short time...you truly are the 'Child of the Devil'!"

Child of the Devil?

Kane frowned.

The assassin said no more, his dagger slicing out silver arcs, each move aimed straight for vital points.

Kane could only rely on his level 6 dagger skills to anticipate and dodge.

He grabbed a wooden chair to block the attack, and with a few tearing sounds, several more bloody marks appeared on the chair back and his arm.

The opponent's offensive was deadly, but he was restricted from revealing his own hand.

Just as Kane was pondering how to reasonably deal with his opponent.

boom!!

A scorching heatwave exploded with a deafening roar, shattering the wooden door and part of the wall into pieces with the raging flames!

Pebbles and wood chips flew everywhere, and the scorching heat instantly filled the entire room.

Amidst the firelight and smoke, a figure in a red dress appeared at the doorway.

It's Anjie.

She gazed at the two locked in combat inside the room, her face displaying arrogance and undisguised indifference.

"It's so noisy."

Her voice had an inhuman hollowness.

"A failed experiment... It can't even handle a level zero mortal, what a piece of trash."

Kane's heart sank when she appeared.

This woman's mental state is clearly not right!

He immediately let out a muffled groan, deliberately creating an opening, letting the dagger graze his shoulder, drawing blood, while simultaneously shouting:

"Help! He's an assassin!"

Anjie's gaze slowly shifted to him, her eyes not looking at someone of her own kind.

It's more like staring at an object, or a struggling insect.

Then she smiled.

His smile grew wider and wider, his mouth stretching almost to his ears, emitting hoarse, manic gasps.

"OK……"

She raised her pale hand, fingers spread, and recited rapidly in a distorted and eerie tone:

"Burning Hand"

Kane's alarm bells rang, and he immediately darted under the bed.

A hand made entirely of orange-red flames suddenly took shape.

Enveloped in flames and fire, it slammed down hard on the spot where the two had been standing!

The assassin only had time to let out a short, sharp scream.

It struggled and rolled wildly in the flames, but could not extinguish the flames on its body.

Immediately afterwards, another magical missile struck, sending him flying completely away.

On the ground, only a curled-up, charred, and smoking human figure remained.

Seeing this, Kane felt a chill run down his spine.

Two first-circle spells...

It's worth noting that she participated in one less Stigmata Ritual than him.

Anjie stood amidst the billowing smoke and heat, her red dress swaying slightly.

She looked at Kane, who was slowly rising from under the table, her eyes still haughty and indifferent.

Kane pressed his bleeding shoulder, pretending to grit his teeth as he said:

"You want to kill me too?"

Anjie tilted her head, the manic smile on her face not yet completely gone.

"Who knows..."

She spoke softly, as if discussing the weather.

Anyway, it's quiet now.

After saying that, she didn't look at Kane again, turned around and disappeared at the end of the dimly lit corridor...

The footsteps faded into the distance, and silence returned to the surroundings.

Only then did Kane release his hand that had been pressing on his wound and look down.

Beneath the cut flesh, tiny granulation tissues were quietly wriggling and intertwining, leaving only a seemingly gruesome wound on the surface.

Kane stretched his joints expressionlessly, then walked toward the charred corpse.

He forced himself to squat down despite the discomfort and carefully examined the items.

Finally, a faint sword and shield tattoo was discovered on the inside of the corpse's arm.

He frowned slightly, finally finding the origin of the tattoo in his memory.

"The Kingdom of Nord..."