The Tree of Ascension: A LitRPG Apocalypse (Peril's Prodigy Book 2) Craig Kobayashi (top 5 books to read TXT) 📖

Instead of a subtle, almost incomprehensible and definitely indescribable feeling of his Mana ‘darkening’ to form a Death Bolt, pooling his Mana into a Felfire Bolt burned like hot acid through his veins. Instead of the sapphire Mana growing darker as it moved through his arms, Garath felt like his core as a whole turned briefly to a neon green when he began to cast. By the time the necessary 282 Mana was taken from his core to move through his body and create the spell, his Mana pool returned to a brilliant sapphire, yet at the same time, it was changed. His Mana pool still ‘felt’ blue, just like it had when he’d first felt it upon choosing his Class, but now it felt somehow… dirty. Tainted.

Garath canceled his cast of Felfire Bolt and was shocked to feel the Mana rush back up his arms and then, somehow filtered by a pure white presence in the upper part of his chest, returned to his core an untarnished sapphire. After explaining what the experience of casting Felfire Bolt had been like to Daisy, the little Archmage gave the Necrologist her two cents.

“You could feel it in your veins?” she asked curiously. “Like blood?”

“That’s what it felt like, yeah. It wasn’t like that with Death Bolt though,” Garath told her.

“Then I think you should either try to push Mana through your veins while casting Death Bolt, or maybe try to make your Mana pool turn green before casting Death Bolt,” Daisy suggested. Garath could see her gears turning as she considered her own advice, she didn’t look entirely convinced, but nodded assuringly. “Yeah. Try that and see what happens.”

Garath was not inspired by her ‘throw shit at the wall and see what sticks’ advice, but the little girl’s approach had resulted in the title of Archmage. He shrugged and then tried to pull in his focus with a deep breath as Daisy moved past him to check on her other students.

Trying to push Mana through his veins while casting Death Bolt didn’t have any tangible result as far as Garath could tell. He tried to force the Mana into his heart through sheer strength of will, hoping that it would then be forced to move through his veins, but in the end, the Mana just followed the predetermined path up to his shoulders and unhindered down his arms to form a Death Bolt between his hands. Frustrated, Garath released the black orb of magic into the sky and watched it fly.

Discouraged, he decided to try Daisy’s second suggestion. He spent long minutes meditating and focusing on his Mana core in order to will it into the neon green color he was going for. After a few minutes of trying and failing, Garath sighed dramatically. When he opened his eyes and reoriented himself, he heard Maimon exclaiming that he’d just unlocked Spell Design. Garath almost screamed in frustration. Forcing himself to calm with deep breathing and a maturity that was frankly beyond himself, the Necrologist closed his eyes and continued his efforts.

Instead of focusing on the color or route of his Mana, Garath took a few seconds to simply clear his mind of the frustration of his repeated failures and jealousy. It was there, in the deliberate quiet of his mind, that Handsome’s terrible voice scratched a silent word of advice into Garath’s thick skull.

*Hate.*

Garath’s eyes sprang open. The unexpected and horrible sound of Handsome’s voice in his mind shredded his focus to ribbons. For only a second, Garath was furious with the winged demon. Then he realized that Handsome was trying to help him, and he felt his Mana pool slowly returning from a bright neon green to its regular sapphire tint. The anger he’d felt when the demon had so rudely interrupted his focus must have been exactly what he’d needed!

Thrilled to bits, Garath closed his eyes again and fixed a portrait of Maimon’s smug-ass face in his mind. He imagined the Rabbi taunting him with deeply personal insults. It only took a second or two before he felt the rage swelling within himself, and then, success! Garath’s Mana pool brightened, intensifying into neon green. Again, Handsome offered a word of advice within his mind.

*More.*

Garath let himself dwell on the growing hatred, feeling it build like indigestion after a night of tequila and enchiladas. As his hatred grew, Garath’s Mana pool churned and bubbled at his center. Within a few seconds, Garath felt the burning-acid sensation he was now correlating with Felfire Bolt as it spread throughout his chest. It hurt, but it was bearable.

*More,* came Handsome’s terrible voice once again into Garath’s rage-filled mind.

Garath didn’t know how much more hatred he was capable of generating, but there was only one way to find out. He wiped away the image of Maimon hurling insults at him in his mind and replaced it with one of Athios telling him that she could never be with someone like him, a murderer and a monster that didn’t care about anything or anyone except fulfilling his own lust for greater power. Warrion joined the self-imposed, made-up mental-abuse by telling Garath he wasn’t a leader worth following. Just another piece of shit with delusions of grandeur that was going to get everyone killed.

The once calm, blue Mana pool at Garath’s center was now blindingly green and pounding in time with the furious rhythm of his heart when Maimon made his second appearance in Garath’s masochistic fantasy. This time, the Rabbi was taking a baseball bat to the bloodied forms of Athios, Auto, Warrion, and even Sharon, mercilessly killing all of Garath’s closest friends. That last bit put the Necrologist over the edge, but it seemed to do the trick.

The wildly churning neon-green Mana pool in Garath’s center condensed in a flash, coming together to form an insanely concentrated ball of boiling green Mana. Instead of staying in his center as his Mana pool always had before, the concentrated orb