Chapter 122: The Body Tempering Technique 1

Hearing those words, Kent could no longer think of any argument that might convince the old fellow otherwise. It was obvious that what had caught this powerful being’s attention was Kent himself—and, more importantly, his body.

Kent was now filled with bitter regret. If only he had known what awaited him, he would have left the vicinity of this temple long ago. He had originally assumed that the kobolds worshipped nothing more than a dilapidated, forgotten temple. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that such a formidable being was lurking beneath the earth.

The countless undead creatures that had emerged in the surrounding region were clearly connected to the old fellow’s presence. According to the creature itself, it had been on the verge of cultivating the power of the Origin and had even fought against a god. That meant it must possess a domain of its own.

A domain was an ability that allowed its master to alter the magical elements within a certain area. Over time, such an influence could fundamentally change the environment, causing undead creatures to emerge and thrive in the region.

This also explained why the old fellow had been able to subdue Mandar so effortlessly.

“But my body is so weak. How could it possibly withstand your soul?”

At last, Kent managed to come up with a counterargument. Strangely enough, it was an argument made out of concern for the old fellow himself. Even Kent could not quite explain what he was feeling.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

The mask-like face burst into laughter, its booming voice echoing repeatedly throughout the enormous hall.

“You needn’t worry about that. Before I devour your soul and take possession of your body, I’ll make sure to condition it properly. For someone like me, this is a trivial matter.”

Kent’s face had grown deathly pale. His heart was heavy with emotions he could scarcely put into words.

He turned to look at Daphne, who lay unconscious beside him. She had passed out not long after they entered the chamber. Clearly, the mask-like face had no intention of allowing her to hear what had just been discussed.

If Daphne ever woke up again, Kent was certain that he would no longer be himself.

With that thought weighing on his mind, Kent turned toward the altar and spoke.

“I’d like to ask you for one favor. Would that be possible?”

“Go ahead. In consideration of your body, I’ll grant you this request.”

The mask-like face hovering at the center of the altar answered in an especially haughty tone.

Kent bent down and embraced Daphne one last time.

Now that his mind had finally settled, he noticed the faint fragrance emanating from her body and the softness of her slender frame. After spending so many days together, he was only now beginning to realize how mistaken he had been to treat her like a little girl.

He gently laid Daphne aside and placed his staff in her hand. The mask-like face would presumably consider such a humble weapon beneath its notice.

Then Kent leaned down and placed a light kiss on Daphne’s forehead.

To tell the truth, he had always regarded Daphne as a younger sister, and even now, that had not changed.

“Thank you for your generosity. I’d like to ask you to send this dark elf back safely.”

Kent’s mind was remarkably calm now.

If death was inevitable, what was the point of struggling against it any longer? The gap in their levels of power was simply too enormous. Any attempt at resistance would only bring him further humiliation.

More importantly, there was Daphne to consider.

If Kent’s soul were completely annihilated, there was a very real possibility that Daphne might eventually become an undead creature herself—or transform into some other kind of undead being.

He could not allow that to happen to her.

And so, Kent chose to accept reality, even though a deep sense of unwillingness still lingered in his heart.

After all, what one wished for and what reality ultimately allowed were often two entirely different things.

“Very well. I agree. However, you may have to endure some suffering in what comes next.”

The mask-like face answered with an expression of bewilderment.

It simply could not understand why Kent would make such a request.

Nevertheless, seeing that the young mage had finally calmed down, the creature was rather pleased. At least now, the process that followed would likely proceed much more smoothly.

“I haven’t even asked your name yet,” Kent began. “My name is Kent. I’m a human, and I’m an officially registered mage of the Mage Guild of the Alliance Empire. When I registered, I listed Fire magic as my primary discipline. I also have a...”

“Enough, enough! There’s no need to tell me all that. Once I’ve devoured your soul, I’ll naturally inherit all your memories.”

The mask-like face interrupted him impatiently.

“Now, we should prepare to strengthen your body. During the process, you’ll have the privilege of witnessing my exclusive secret art: the Body Tempering Technique. It is a form of alchemy that had all but vanished even in my era. In many respects, it bears a striking resemblance to the art of crafting magical puppets.

“Indeed, it was precisely this technique that allowed my soul to survive even after I was struck by a god. My soul was severely wounded, of course, but at least I managed to stay alive, didn’t I?”

The mask-like face spoke with evident pride.

Little did it realize that this very interruption would ultimately lead to its downfall.

“What makes this technique so special?” Kent asked curiously.

He was treating the mysterious creature as though it were an old acquaintance. After all, every additional second he remained alive was precious, so he might as well spend it chatting with someone who seemed willing to talk.

“It’s because my body had already become comparable to that of a god!

“You see, most mages make a fundamental mistake in their cultivation. They concentrate exclusively on strengthening their souls while neglecting their physical bodies. No matter how talented such a mage might be, this mistake will prevent them from breaking through the bottleneck that separates mortals from gods.

“Even those who manage to ascend to godhood through sheer luck will become nothing more than the lowest-ranking gods.

“The truth is that the physical body is the foundation of everything.

“This explains why there are still quite a respectable number of mages below the divine level, yet extraordinarily few above it. Although those who reach godhood have comprehended the power of the Origin, that doesn’t mean they can simply abandon their established ways of fighting.

“Imagine a mage who has spent a thousand years mastering the art of spellcasting. How could such a person suddenly change their entire fighting style and begin battling like a warrior? Comprehending the power of the Origin doesn’t automatically transform one’s approach to combat.

“Consequently, mages still enjoy a relatively high status among the gods. Nevertheless, the cultivation methods followed by mages in the mortal world have already led them down the wrong path.

“Only a sufficiently powerful body can accommodate an even more powerful soul. As for mental power, it is merely one manifestation of the soul itself.

“Even if you cultivate at an astonishing rate in the mortal world, it won’t necessarily bring you much closer to true greatness.

“My Body Tempering Technique, on the other hand, allows me to refine my physical body until it becomes extraordinarily powerful—at least one entire level stronger than my own cultivation realm.

“That was how my body managed to withstand most of the divine power when I was struck by that god. Otherwise, my soul would have been annihilated on the spot. If that had happened, do you think I would still be here talking to you?”

Perhaps the mask-like face had gone without a proper conversation for far too long. Once it began explaining its knowledge, it seemed unable to stop, pouring out one lengthy explanation after another.

“H-How is that even possible? What exactly are gods?”

Kent was so astonished that he could barely get the words out.

Until now, he had always assumed that the gods of this world were much like the gods of Earth—figures of mythology and legend. Although he had witnessed the wonders of magic with his own eyes, deep down, he had never entirely believed in the existence of genuine gods.

Now, however, he was hearing that the mysterious being before him had already reached the level of a demigod.

He could hardly contain his astonishment.

“Hmph! Gods? They’re nothing more than humans who cultivated their way to divinity.”

The mask-like face spoke with undisguised hatred.

Although it could no longer remember every detail of its past, it had certainly not forgotten that the gods were responsible for its current predicament. Whenever it spoke of them, an overwhelming hatred surged within it.

“How truly amazing...” Kent murmured.

Yet beneath his words of admiration lay a faint, unmistakable sadness.

This world was so vast and wondrous. With so much left to see and experience, who would willingly leave it behind?

“Very well. Restore your mana for now. Once your body has returned to its peak condition, we shall begin. As for the little girl, I will naturally send her out of here when the time comes. I also have a few things to prepare.”

Before Kent could react, he felt his body rise into the air and drift toward the altar. At the same time, Daphne vanished in the blink of an eye.

Kent had initially wanted to say something, but after hearing the threatening undertone in the mask-like face’s words, he decided against it.

All he could do was let out a quiet sigh to himself.