Chapter 33
It took three weeks to level up my Carpenter and Blacksmith skills to 250. Another three weeks went into raising my Artificer skill to 250. But today, I can finally focus on what I started all this for. All the materials I had crafted before were destroyed—only the stakes remained. I needed metal, a lot of it, and a heap of stakes.
The strongest Blood Ritual Magic seal available to me was a three-tiered seal requiring 85 sacrifices. The outer circle held 50, the second ring 25, and the innermost circle 10. At the center lay the object to be enchanted, which the caster had to hold onto. The resulting artifact would become personal—useless in anyone else’s hands. It would fully adapt to its wielder, becoming a semi-living extension of them, a satellite. The item would scale with the owner’s levels until it reached the limits of its material, at which point it would shatter.
That’s why I needed the most valuable material available. Every item in my inventory that glowed silver was made of mithril—something I realized after the first ring shattered. Forty-seven rings, two swords, a chainmail, ten necklaces—from all of that, I forged eight rings and a chain.
I removed the gemstones from the rings—I didn’t want to look like a girl. Plus, they drew unwanted attention. The only exception was the blood malachite, which I crushed and mixed into the molten metal. The specks barely peeked through, but the metal itself shimmered with a cold, pale glow. If this worked, I’d need gloves—I didn’t want to glow. I spent another hour crafting glove linings from the leather of a Cerberus-hide cloak. Now, I was ready.
The seal would last four hours before vanishing, so I had to find sacrifices.
After gathering and arranging them in the outer circle, I moved on to the rest. I had to pin them all to the ground with stakes engraved with a Stun rune. One stake would keep them dazed for an hour; four stakes would last six. Now came the hardest yet simplest part: killing the sacrifices in a specific order, gradually channeling energy into the ring. The ritual was designed for at least two people, but I had to hold the first ring with one hand while using magic to kill with the other. The entire seal burned crimson, a deep hum rising as the space inside filled with blood.
Once the first phase ended, the Concentration and Astral Transfer runes activated. It was supposed to teleport me and my sacrifices to a pocket of calm in the Astral Plane. The danger here was the unknown—would I still be as strong? As durable? But everything worked out. I appeared in my normal body, even with my gear intact.
Running from a mob of enraged men was tough. And considering they were level 280, it was twice as terrifying. But combined magical damage and Rupture stakes quickly thinned their numbers. The moment I killed the last one, I was ejected back into reality.
Forced transfer to personal virtual space initiated.
Initiator: Eliza Donovan.
Transfer in: 10…9…8…7…3…2…1 second.