Grievous did just that. In his hand, the Cane quickly transformed into a halberd. Its body was made entirely of a sleek, black metal that appeared both polished and ominous. The blade of the halberd extended outward in a wide, triangular shape, with a sharp edge that glistened in the light.
Along the blade and rim, intricate patterns of crimson-red veins ran, creating an enchanting contrast against the dark metal. These veins seemed to pulse with a mystical energy, giving the halberd an otherworldly aura.
The weapon's pole extended from the base of the blade, providing both balance and reach, making it a formidable and visually striking weapon.
Grievous's fingers traced the cold metal, feeling its weight settle in his palm. It was heavier than it looked, but perfectly balanced.
The craftsmanship was exceptional. Every detail spoke of a master's touch, each line and curve designed not just for function but for intimidation. He flexed his wrist, testing the halberd's weight and swing.
He moved the weapon through a few simple motions, slow and deliberate, as he began to get used to its weight. The metal sang softly with each movement, as if alive and eager. The crimson veins flickered brighter, syncing with the rhythm of his motions. Grievous could almost feel the weapon's heart beating in tandem with his own.
Then, with a practiced flick, the halberd melded back into the form of a Cane. He tucked it under his arm. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, narrowed slightly as he reached into his ring and pulled out the rest of the money.
"Here you are," he said quietly. "Thank you for the weapon and for your excellent craftsmanship."
The giant man behind the counter, his fiery hair catching the light from the forge, smiled slightly. His hands were scarred but steady as he accepted the payment.
"I hope it helps you in your quest," he said in a deep, rumbling voice.
Grievous inclined his head in acknowledgment. The mask gave a slight nod in front of him, expression unreadable. Without another word, he slipped into the shadows, his movements quick and silent until he disappeared from the scene altogether.
The fire-haired giant watched his disappearance with a keen eye. His lips curled into a slight smile as he muttered under his breath, "His movements are quite primitive, as if he were a recent mage who had just grabbed a halberd. Perhaps it was not for him in the first place, but for someone who follows him or his master."
He turned away slowly and whispered as he retreated to the back of the store, "I don't need to worry about it. After all, that is none of my business."
Grievous's footsteps echoed faintly as he returned to his room. The door shut softly behind him, sealing away the noise of the bustling house. He took a deep breath, the cool air inside the room welcoming against his skin.
Calmly, he removed his cloak. He set his belongings aside meticulously, then grabbed the Cane from the corner. Holding it firmly, he moved it in the air before him, testing its balance and feel once more.
"I will need time to start using it comfortably," he admitted to the quiet room.
The Cane, now a weapon in disguise, felt foreign in his hands. Its weight was a reminder of his limitations and his potential. He placed it carefully into his space ring, the device swallowing the weapon in a soft shimmer.
He dressed in a simple robe, the fabric plain but comfortable. Sitting down on the wooden chair by the window, Grievous leaned forward, eyes scanning the notes and scrolls Kaede had brought him. The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the parchment, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
His mind began to immerse itself in the information, absorbing every detail with a hunger that bordered on desperation. The first topic was fundamental: the parts of existence in humans.
There were five parts of existence, the notes explained: the Soul, the Mind Palace, the Consciousness, the Will, and the Physical Body. Each was a complex web of energy and essence, intertwined yet distinct.
The Soul held a certain rank and strength, a measure of its power in the magical realm. It was the core of one's being, the source of innate magical ability. The body, too, developed through natural magical empowerment, growing stronger and more resilient over time.
But the Consciousness and Will were different. Their strength did not grow through peaceful means or the passage of time. These parts required deliberate cultivation, often through methods that bore dangerous side effects.
Grievous frowned slightly, absorbing this truth. He wondered how many had tried and failed to strengthen these elusive parts of their existence. The risks were high, but the rewards even higher.
He thought of his own journey. How much had he already sacrificed? How far would he be willing to go?
The candle flickered again, shadows stretching long across the floor. Outside, the night was thick and still, as if the world itself held its breath.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. The weight of the halberd, the burden of knowledge, the pull of destiny—it all pressed down on him.
But beneath it all, a quiet resolve stirred.
He would master this weapon.
He would strengthen his will and consciousness.
He would become more than what he was.
And nothing would stand in his way.
For now, the night held secrets and silence. But soon, the storm would come.
Grievous opened his eyes, the mask hidden in the shadows beside him. The journey was only beginning.
Grievous began reading the things he had gotten through Kaede.
There were methods where power could be increased by absorbing the power of Consciousness and Will from a person of the opposite sex by having intercours and at the same time using a technique to absorb part of their power.
The disadvantage of that technique was that the force that was simply increased would be unstable and would be in conflict with the person absorbing it, which might lead them to lose control.
Of course, the other party would die once the absorption ended.
Grievous completely ruled out that method, as for him it was high risk and low results.
He had seen men who tried and failed, their minds shattered, their bodies twisted by the backlash of uncontrolled energies.
It was not a path he was willing to gamble on.
As for the second method, it was to take a small portion of the Consciousness power and Will power of the people nearby.
But the problem with that was: it was only a temporary increase.
So Grievous ruled it out as well.
The fleeting nature of such power boosts meant they were no more than a momentary spark in an endless darkness.
He needed something lasting.
All that remained for him now was to go to an area called The Altar of Suvira.
Once enough sacrifices had been made, all of their Consciousness and Will power would be transferred to the person who made the sacrifices.
The legend said the altar hummed with a power older than kingdoms, a power that could bend fate itself.
According to information, that altar was a relic from an ancient civilization, and a mysterious type of energy was used to do so.
It could be considered a sixth-rank magical tool.
Such tools were almost unheard of in this era.
The greatest dilemma facing Grievous at that moment was that the location of the altar only appeared every hundred years.
And only 64 years had passed since the last appearance.
He felt the weight of time pressing down on him.
'It seems like it will be too late,' he thought as he realized that the use of his currently strongest ability would be restricted for 36 years until he could develop it.
The race for that altar was extremely intense.
All the kingdoms of the continent gathered to fight over it.
As the area of appearance was not restricted to a specific rank, all kingdoms directly sent people from the fifth rank to carry out these tasks.
The air was thick with tension as rival factions prepared their champions for the coming battle.
He let out a long sigh, leaned his back on the chair, and whispered, "This is simply going to be incredibly difficult."
"Reaching the second rank will take half a year to an entire year."
"And then reaching the third rank will take at least five years."
"Reaching the fourth rank will take approximately 20 years."
"Reaching the top of the fifth rank will take at least 45 years."
"That takes into account that I have a steady flow of magical fruits and the absence of any interruptions in my magical empowerment."
"That is simply impossible with all-natural methods."
Each word weighed heavily, a reminder of the long journey ahead.
He thought about the countless nights spent training, the injuries endured, and the relentless grind.
Suddenly a thought flashed through his mind, and he quickly got up from his chair.
"That's right, I'm not normal in any way!"
"I have Edmund, or rather Edmund's luck."
"I will do it again!"
His heart quickened as a spark of hope ignited within him.
He moved swiftly, the creak of the wooden floor echoing in the silent room.
He ran to Edmund's room and quickly knocked on the door.
No one answered the door, so Grievous quietly opened it and entered.
The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.
He quietly approached the sleeping child.
Edmund lay peacefully, the gentle rise and fall of his chest a stark contrast to the turmoil in Grievous's mind.
He brought his hands and Will towards the aura surrounding the simple boy.
The aura was faint but unmistakable, a delicate shimmer that pulsed in rhythm with Edmund's breath.
Grievous could feel the subtle warmth of the boy's Will, fragile yet potent in its innocence.
'This luck… this blessing,' Grievous mused silently, 'it is a thread I can pull to weave my own fate.'
His fingers trembled slightly, a mix of anticipation and reverence.
He had seen what Edmund's luck had done before—how it bent chance to favor the improbable.
Could it truly be harnessed again?
He closed his eyes briefly, centering himself.
The room was silent except for the soft whispers of the night wind.
The tension in his chest loosened as he focused, threading his Will through the boy's aura.
Time seemed to slow, the boundaries between them blurring.
A faint glow began to emanate from Grievous's palms, the energy subtle but undeniable.
He could feel the surge of power, fragile yet exhilarating.
The sensation was unlike any he had experienced before, it was as if he were touching a hidden current beneath the world's surface.
Yet beneath the thrill, a shadow of doubt lingered.
But determination quickly welded doubt into resolve.
'No,' he told himself firmly.
'I will not falter. This is my chance.'
The connection deepened, and Grievous drew in the boy's Will like a tide pulling water to shore.
Each fragment of Edmund's essence mingled with his own, infusing him with a subtle but profound strength.
It was not a violent theft but a gentle siphoning, a dance of energies intertwined.
The room seemed to brighten imperceptibly as the exchange continued.