The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 367: Chapter 362 — Week

”Protege, try not to shit your pants when I tell you this, alright? You’re not advancing to mark two until you finish reforging your body.”

”...why?”

The ancestor grinned mysteriously.

”Secret.”

”....”

Zephyrion had proceeded to employ every torture and threatening method he knew in an attempt to get Demorian to talk.

”Alright, alright! Fucking hell, protege, you’re a tyrant!” Demorian finally cried. ”At mark one, you’re strong enough to survive the reforging, but if you get any stronger, there’s a chance the whole thing goes to shit. Besides, trust your ancestor for once. If you finish the reforging first, the growth afterward will be fucking glorious. Just think about it. What’s mark two about?”

Zephyrion thought about it for a moment before his eyes widened slightly. He immediately chided himself for not realizing it sooner. Demorian had been completely right in his judgment, and now that Zephyrion understood the reason behind it, he couldn’t help but anticipate his advancement even more.

Unfortunately, that meant he had to finish reforging his entire body before he could advance. Worse still, after every reforging, he had to give his body time to recover while Demorian prepared the next part for the process.

After the first week, Zephyrion felt he was ready for his next reforging and locked himself in his room, sealing the door with metal-engraved runes to ensure no screams escaped, before finally giving Demorian the go-ahead to begin the process.

Then he was plunged into a world of pain.

The next reforging targeted his cardiovascular system: heart, arteries, veins, capillaries. Compared to his previous reforgings, the pain was truly immense, far beyond anything he’d anticipated.

Zephyrion spent hours on the ground, writhing in a pool of his own blood with every trace of dignity long forgotten as he was torn apart and rebuilt piece by piece.

By the time the torturous process finally ended, several hours had passed. Zephyrion dragged himself upright from the pool of blood and slumped against the metal door.

’Fuck...’

The pain had been so intense he’d genuinely thought he was going to die. If it was already this bad, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what reforging his nervous system would feel like.

”Fucking hell, protege. You look like someone chewed you up, shat you out, then changed their mind and chewed you again.”

”...you would’ve cried.”

”What?!” Demorian slapped a hand against his chest, looking genuinely offended. ”You rotten little bastard! I’ll have you know this ancestor has endured pains you couldn’t even comprehend. I once had two beautiful women pinch both my nipples at the same time. Hard! I didn’t shed a single tear!”

”....”

’Ignore him. Life is easier that way.’

Exhaling slowly, Zephyrion shut his eyes and focused inward. Colors filled his mind as he examined the changes to his body, and they were quite substantial.

In addition to his now grey muscles and bones, his veins, arteries, even his heart, everything responsible for circulating blood throughout his body, had been reforged into metal. They appeared hard, sturdy and almost unnaturally pristine.

More importantly, Zephyrion could feel the difference immediately.

He felt brimming with energy and power, almost as though he could run forever without tiring. The reforging had pushed his circulatory system far beyond what normal humans were capable of, even most ascendants.

Blood, nutrients and energy now moved through his body at astonishing speeds, allowing them to reach every part of him far faster and making his energy distribution vastly more efficient.

Despite still sitting in a pool of his own blood, Zephyrion smiled.

’Definitely worth it.’

Now, he just had to wait another week for the next reforging.

...

Soon after that, he received news from Garrick about another unfortunate delay with the elixirs, courtesy of, in his words, ’that pussy Severin.’

It was annoying, and apparently, he would have to wait another week, potentially even longer. Still, Zephyrion didn’t see much harm in it, considering he already had his hands full with other matters.

In the meantime, he decided to focus on the rune art the academy had awarded him.

”Protege, you look like you’re about to cream your pants.” Demorian frowned. ”Over this? This mediocre little thing? Yet you witnessed my magnificence for months and barely even blinked!”

”This ’mediocre little thing’ is a Origin art. Do you have any idea how valuable these are? Besides, if it’s so mediocre, why haven’t I seen you cough up a single rune art since we met? You talk a lot for someone with nothing to show for it.”

”N-nothing to show for it?!” Demorian recoiled as though Zephyrion had just spat on his grave.

”Protege, watch your fucking mouth! The only reason this ancestor hasn’t imparted his divine wisdom is because you haven’t needed it! You already have more arts than you know what to do with. Besides, I was the fucking peak of my generation! You expect me to remember every piss-poor art I used as a Vessel? Herald and Dominion, protege. That’s where the real treasures are.”

”Of course.”

”What the fuck does ’of course’ mean?!” Demorian’s face twitched. ”Y-you don’t believe me! Fine! I’ll show you. Give me some time to remember and I’ll pull out an art so ridiculous you’ll kneel and thank your ancestors for putting me in that rod!”

”I doubt it’ll be better than this Origin art.”

”It fucking will!”

Demorian fell silent after that, his expression scrunching up as he sank into deep thought. Zephyrion held back a smile.

’Too easy.’

While, in a twisted way, he enjoyed riling up the perverted ancestor like this, it was true that Demorian had barely contributed when it came to rune arts.

For someone hailed as the greatest of his generation, there was no chance he didn’t have some truly broken arts buried somewhere in that ridiculous head of his, and Zephyrion intended to pry every useful one out of him, regardless of the means.

’Now, let’s see what we have here.’

Zephyrion turned his attention back to the scroll in his grasp, carefully going over the information within. The more he read, the more his interest grew, until eventually, a smile crept onto his face.

’Perfect.’