Shattering the Wall
“Ahem, your words are a bit harsh……”
Yoahim cleared his throat, but Jeron spoke in a firm voice.
“No, they're not harsh at all. At this rate, Apostle, you're at a dead end. You can't get any stronger.”
Jeron's harsh words were ultimately for Yoahim's sake. Knowing that, Yoahim still tilted his head skeptically and asked,
“Why?”
“Just now, I showed you my magic. And you said you couldn't imitate it.”
“So what? There's a level gap between you and me. Isn't it natural I can't copy a spell I've never seen before?”
“No. With your talent, Apostle, it was well within your ability to mimic it. But you said you couldn't—that means something.”
Jeron's voice dropped even lower.
“You're up against a wall right now, Apostle. An irrational wall you can't overcome with effort or talent alone.”
Yoahim knew that all too well. A Dark Knight could only level up magic skills to 5. So it was only natural he couldn't replicate Jeron's level 6 spell.
Normally, witnessing a realm beyond your own would spark a major epiphany. But not for Yoahim. The game system flat-out prevented him from learning level 6 magic.
No matter how closely he observed Jeron's spell, he couldn't comprehend or imitate it.
Surprising.
He'd long known he couldn't learn level 6 magic, so there was no shock or disappointment. Jeron, his mentor, looked gravely serious, but Yoahim felt nothing.
If anything, he was more surprised that Jeron had figured it out.
I've got the game system to tell me outright, but Jeron deduced it purely through reasoning.
Gauging someone else's talent limits precisely was no easy feat. And Jeron hadn't just pegged Yoahim's potential—he'd pinpointed the issue elsewhere.
Truly impressive insight.
“So?”
“So? I'm not joking here. If things stay like this, you'll lose the drive to push further and stagnate helplessly. Doesn't that bother you?”
Well… It was regrettable, sure, but Yoahim's identity wasn't that of a mage—it was a Dark Knight. Magic was just a survival tool, not some destiny he had to master.
Besides, what could he do about it? Unless he stumbled on something like Kakarri's relic by chance.
“Sure, it's a shame. But like you said, it's a wall effort and talent can't breach. And I'm not gunning to be some grand archmage anyway……”
“Then what if there was a way?”
“Huh?”
What'd he say?
Yoahim thought he'd misheard. Jeron repeated clearly,
“What if I could help you?”
“Help me? With what? My magic?”
“Yes. I'd help you tear down that wall.”
Was that even possible? He'd broken Necromancy's level cap thanks to Kakarri's relic. Could he bypass the system without divine power?
Honestly, it seemed unlikely. The system was, in a way, like a god in this game world. Could Jeron defy a god's will?
“I'd be grateful if you could, but… is it really doable?”
“It is. Though not perfectly. The walls blocking you… probably four. No, five of them.”
Considering Dark Knights capped at level 5 magic while the pinnacle was 10, Jeron's assessment was spot-on.
Yoahim eyed him, half skeptical, half hopeful.
“If I help, I can shatter at least one. The rest? I don't know. But the first step's always the hardest—what follows gets easier. I believe you'll reach magic's peak, Apostle.”
“So how exactly are you gonna help me?”
“Sit cross-legged in the center of the clearing first.”
Jeron snapped his fingers, and the scarecrow vanished downward. Yoahim complied, settling in the middle. Jeron snapped again.
The space nearby warped, a black hole opening. Jeron rummaged inside his subspace, pulling out two heavy pouches.
“We'll use a magic circle and mana stones to stimulate your heart. Mana entering via breath gets refined in the heart before flowing through the body. If something's hindering your magic training, it's definitely the heart.”
“My heart? That sounds kinda dangerous……”
Jeron sprinkled finely ground powder around Yoahim from one pouch, tracing a circle like a magic array and scrawling indecipherable runes.
From the other, he took fist-sized stones gleaming with iridescent jade light—clearly no ordinary items.
“No need to worry. Direct heart stimulation is extreme, but not overly dangerous.”
“Not 'safe,' but 'not overly dangerous' still means it's a little dangerous, right?”
“Apostle! Don't act like a coward! For the greater cause, sometimes you must risk your life!”
See? Talking big 'cause it's not his ass on the line.
I said I'm fine capping at 5—what's the big deal?
Yoahim was dumbfounded, but Jeron took his silence as resolve hardened by the rebuke.
Jeron placed mana stones at the cardinal points on the powder circle, handing the largest to Yoahim.
“Grip it tight,” he instructed. “This stone holds far more mana than usual. It's amenite mined from a mana spring.”
Amenite formed mana springs. Buried deposits kept gates open with massive mana reserves.
“Not supposed to export it from springs, but I prepared this at my own expense for you. You know it's insanely expensive and rare.”
“How expensive?”
“Enough to buy a small castle.”
“……”
“This won't mess up the stone after, right? Like, the mana suddenly evaporating into plain rocks?”
Even as Kakarri's apostle, wasting a small castle's worth was embarrassing. He still hadn't compensated for shattering the crystal orb two months back—ruining this would be too much.
“Hahaha, no chance. Amenite holds more mana than regular stones. Your body couldn't absorb it all anyway.”
Yeah, what's the worst that could happen?
Yoahim decided to trust Jeron.
“Close your eyes and focus. Keep your posture perfect. Grip the stone tight.”
With that, Yoahim straightened his back and shut his eyes.
Even in the darkness, he felt light emanating from the stone. Pale green glow swirled around him like wind, probing, seeking an entrance. It tickled his skin.
A gentle breeze at first, then fiercer gusts shaking his body—but not harshly.
The mana found its path and burst in. A flood poured through, yet it felt oddly gentle. Rushing like wild horses across plains through his veins, Yoahim floated as if rocked in a cradle.
He vividly sensed the mana surging from limbs to heart, a smooth invasion.
Seemed like no danger after all. He relaxed into a faint smile.
“Guhk!”
Sudden agony gripped his heart like a vise.
“Kuh-euuk!”
His heart pounded wildly, resisting the intruder. The massive influx strained it. Veins bulged, eyes swelled like they might pop. His throat burned, nausea rising—but the crushing pain left no strength to retch.
Yoahim felt death's threat.
Fuck, 'not overly dangerous' my ass… This is fucking lethal…
He couldn't scream properly. Couldn't open his eyes to beg Jeron. His body wouldn't respond—limbs, organs, nothing.
The mana squeezing his heart stole all control.
Am I dying here? Just to break a skill cap?
All that sword training and black magic practice for nothing?
This is bullshit—I can't die pissed like this… But I don't see surviving either…
What the hell's Jeron doing? Just watching his apostle die? Or did that bastard lie to kill me?
Thoughts spiraled endlessly—his only freedom left.
Fine, savor my last liberty.
As delusions swirled—
Endure.
In his most private sanctum, untouchable by any—bare feet intruded.
Grasping Yoahim's fading mind firmly.
Bear the weight of power.
Firm voice. Cruel yet somehow tender. He knew whose.
And the scars shall become your crown.
Kakarri's apostle finally opened his eyes.
“No way?”
Jeron, watching intently, sensed something off and stepped back.
BOOOOOOM!
Bursting light shook the tower.
“……Ngh.”
The blinded world regained color. The deafening roar faded.
Yoahim seized his reeling mind and stood. He instinctively felt a change in his body.
But first, he turned to survey the surroundings—another instinct.
“……”
The magic circle was gone without trace. Jeron flung far away. The clearing wrecked.
And.
“……Huh?”
Five stones rolling on the ground. Light, mystery, mana—all lost, just worthless rocks.
“Oh… oh no……”
Yoahim instinctively knew he was fucked.