The world beyond the capital faded behind him as Lencar stepped deeper into the Mana-Forbidden Zone. Immediately, the atmosphere changed—quiet, unnaturally quiet. The air here was thick with invisible pressure, like the land itself was exhaling a warning.
Soft ash-colored mist rolled over the desolate landscape. The trees here were pale, almost bleached. Mana did not flow in this place; it was devoured. Even experienced mages avoided stepping foot here.
For Lencar, this was exactly why he chose it.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his hood as he felt the first tug of the zone's "mana hunger" pulling at his skin.
"Good," he murmured. "Let's begin."
A normal mage would collapse within minutes in a place where the air ate mana like a starving beast.
But Lencar was not here as a normal mage.
He was here to strengthen the part of himself that was not supposed to exist.
His Heretic Mode.
The power that rejected the cycle of mana.
The power that inverted natural laws.
The power that made even mana tremble.
Lencar took a deep breath.
"Heretic Mode… activate."
His heart thudded once.
Twice.
And then—
Black mana erupted from his core.
Not mana.
Not magic.
Something older.
It wasn't mana that flowed through his veins when he entered Heretic Mode—it was an inverted, anti-structured energy, a polarity opposite of the natural world. His hair darkened slightly, strands drifting upward as if gravity loosened around him.
His eyes shifted into that unnatural silver-red gleam.
The black aura peeled off him like smoke, writhing, twisting, as though it was alive.
And the forbidden zone responded.
The air quivered. The ground shook in a dull pulse.
The zone tried to devour his mana—and the Heretic Mode mana responded by devouring it back.
A paradox of consumption.
Lencar closed his eyes, feeling the feedback loop become sharper, clearer.
Before, Heretic Mode was something he toggled through effort.
Now, it answered him instantly, smoothly.
But mastery required more.
He clenched his hand, and tendrils of dark force spiraled around his arm.
"Focus," he whispered. "Balance the inversion."
He pushed deeper into the zone. The trees cracked as he passed; pebbles lifted off the ground as his aura distorted the environment.
The forbidden zone kept draining.
His Heretic energy kept resisting.
It became a tug-of-war.
Exactly what he needed.
Lencar planted his feet and released a slow exhale.
"Heretic Body: First Layer—Manifest."
His skin darkened with subtle patterns—not tattoos, but shifting lines of inverted runic currents. His body temperature dropped sharply, the air frosting around his breath.
The world around him looked different.
Mana wasn't visible—but the absence of mana was.
A hollow darkness in the landscape, constantly collapsing inward.
He could see the zone's hunger.
And he challenged it.
He stepped forward again, letting the land's devouring force scrape against his heretic aura. For a second, his vision blurred as the black energy around him wavered.
"Increase output."
He pushed more power outward. Heretic energy surged in a violent pulse, spreading into a full exoskeleton—bones of shadow forming around his limbs, rib-like structures over his chest.
An incomplete armor.
Still unstable.
Still reactive, not obedient.
He gritted his teeth as the zone pushed back, rapidly draining the aura and threatening to tear his heretic shell apart.
"Hold…!"
Cracks spread through the skeletal armor.
"Not yet—"
The armor shattered in an explosion of black fragments.
Lencar dropped to one knee.
Cold sweat dripped down his forehead.
His breathing was heavy—Heretic Mode always demanded an immense mental toll. And the forbidden zone amplified that burden tenfold.
But his lips curled into a small, dangerous smile.
"Better than last time."
He wasn't here to brute-force control.
He was here to learn the rhythm of Heretic Mode—its pulses, its hunger, its flow.
He raised his hand again.
And the process started anew.
Days passed. The sun dipped. The zone darkened.
Lencar stood amidst shattered stone and deep gouges in the earth.
His cloak was torn.
His breath was slow, controlled.
Heretic Mode surrounded him in a stable, quiet shell. Not as armor—this was something more subtle.
An aura that did not waver.
The forbidden zone tried devouring him again—and this time, the aura adjusted automatically.
A perfect counterbalance.
Finally.
He opened his eyes.
"It syncs with my intent now. Not my exhaustion."
That was the core breakthrough.
Heretic Mode was no longer an unstable transformation.
It had become an extension of him—like a limb he had never used correctly until today.
He stretched his fingers and observed the thin, glass-smooth coating on his skin.
Black mana, condensed into a protective layer.
Not thick, but incredibly dense.
Moving with him.
Breathing with him.
Inside Heretic Mode, he whispered the next challenge:
"Anti-Magic Skin."
His heart hammered.
This part was risky.
Anti-Magic Skin didn't come naturally to him. It was the side-effect of Heretic Mode consuming mana and leaving the "reverse polarity" inside his body.
He lifted his hand.
Mana rushed toward him—then abruptly bent away at the last second.
Good. A reaction.
He pushed harder.
The void-like energy swirled around his arm, forming a thin film—the same principle as mana skin, except inverted. It didn't reinforce. It erased.
"Anti-Magic Skin—stabilize."
The surface crackled, flickering violently.
The forbidden zone's devouring force collided with the anti-magic energy—two voids clashing.
His muscles tensed as the feedback struck him like needles.
"Stay… together…"
The anti-magic tried to collapse inwards.
The heretic aura tried to spread outwards.
For control, he had to fuse them without either overpowering the other.
Minutes turned to an hour.
His veins glowed faintly red-black.
And finally—
The anti-magic film hardened like tempered glass over his arm.
Lencar looked down at it.
He flexed his fingers.
The coating didn't break.
It didn't flicker.
It responded like a second skin.
A slow breath escaped him.
"Anti-Magic Skin… achieved."
He raised both arms, letting the layer expand across his chest, shoulders, and neck.
Black energy crackled silently.
The ground beneath him bent inward, forming a small crater.
Now he was truly dangerous.
Heretic Mode gave him the anti-magic source.
The forbidden zone forced him to stabilize it.
And now, instead of passively consuming mana—
He could weaponize its absence.
He tested it by releasing a mana construct—a simple wind blade.
It entered the anti-magic aura.
And disintegrated instantly, not even reaching his skin.
"Perfect."
A predator smiled.
Heretic Mode was no longer merely a form.
It was a combat system.
The first layer: stability.
The second: anti-magic armor.
The third… he felt it, faintly, beneath the surface.
Something deeper.
More primal.
More dangerous.
Not yet.
He needed complete control first.
He shut down Heretic Mode slowly, layer by layer.
The dark aura folded inward, sinking into his veins until only his natural mana flow remained.
The forbidden zone felt colder now.
He stood alone in the silence of a starless forest, exhaling the last traces of inverted mana.
Tomorrow, he would train his mage-mode mana skin.
Then, his composite magic.
But tonight—
Heretic Mode had evolved.
Perfectly.