Chapter 23: Seven treasures

As I walked through the academy mall, the quiet hum of the students' chatter faded into the background of my thoughts. My mind was already running at full speed, calculating, planning, and overanalyzing every possible path ahead. The students' questions had gotten under my skin more than I wanted to admit, not because they were anything remarkable, but because their naivety reminded me of how far I still had to go to reach the kind of strength I needed.

My first goal was clear—become stronger. But how? The answer wasn't as simple as hitting the gym or mastering a few more techniques. No, the true strength I needed went beyond that. It was about power, power beyond the mortal realm, and strength that transcended even the limitations of my own mind. To do that, I had to figure out what I needed, and that, in turn, led me to the second part of my plan—knowledge.

I needed to understand everything. Everything that could give me an edge, everything that could help me surpass the boundaries that had been placed on me. And then, there was the third goal: make sure this generation, my students, were stronger than the last. They were weak, soft, and inexperienced. They had no understanding of true combat, of what it meant to fight for survival. It was laughable, really, the way they squabbled over trivial things while not understanding the stakes that came with true power.

But I couldn't change that overnight. They needed time, training, and experiences. They needed to understand what it meant to face real danger. But first, I had to reach the level I needed to be at. The I.S.S. had already attained their power—most likely through more than one generation's worth of blood, sweat, and politics. If I were to catch up to them, or better yet, surpass them, I would need something more. I needed the seven treasures.

The seven treasures were legendary artifacts, each said to grant its possessor unimaginable power. They were spoken of in hushed tones, in ancient texts that I had barely begun to understand. I had heard rumors—old whispers of a time when these treasures were brought together. Some said they held the key to unlocking the very essence of existence, others said they were the physical manifestation of the universe's will. No one truly knew. But what I did know was that they were scattered across the multiverse, hidden in places where only the most dangerous and capable of beings could even hope to reach them.

Each treasure had its own unique power. I had spent countless hours trying to piece together the truth about them.

The first treasure, the Crown of the Fallen, was said to grant dominion over life and death. It could raise the dead, manipulate souls, and control the flow of time to some extent. The legends spoke of a king who wore the crown, ruling over an army of the dead. It was a terrifying concept.

The second, the Ring of Fate, could alter the course of destiny itself. A single thought while wearing it could change the future in unimaginable ways. The ring could reshape the very fabric of reality, bending it to the will of its bearer. A dangerous power, if ever there was one.

The third was the Sword of Eternity, a blade that could cut through any barrier, be it physical or metaphysical. The sword was said to be indestructible, capable of severing ties to both time and space. Its wielder would be able to transcend any realm, striking down gods and monsters alike.

Next was the Amulet of Infinity, an object that could manipulate the very laws of nature. Space, gravity, and time were nothing before it. Those who wielded it could bend the universe to their will, shaping it as easily as clay. It was said that whoever possessed it would hold the power to create entire worlds from nothing.

The Orb of Knowledge was the fifth treasure, an artifact that contained the collective wisdom of the universe. The one who held it would gain access to the secrets of creation, able to understand and unravel the deepest mysteries of existence. It was rumored that the orb could grant perfect understanding, eliminating all ignorance.

The sixth treasure, the Wheel of Fate, were said to bestow upon their wearer the power to redirect the fate of an attack. Instead of allowing an incoming strike to connect, the wearer of the Wheel could make it so the attack would miss them—no matter how sure the enemy was that their blow would land. It was a way of weaving fate to protect oneself from even the most certain of attacks. A weapon of ultimate defense, turning the enemy's own fate against them.

Finally, the seventh treasure, the Lotus of Sacred Probability, could manipulate the flow of probability itself. It could increase the chances of something occurring—or drastically decrease the likelihood of something happening. A single thought while holding the Lotus could make the impossible seem possible, or the inevitable miss its mark. It was a treasure of incredible subtlety and power, allowing its user to sway the odds in their favor in ways others would never understand.

The problem was, I didn't have the time to travel across the multiverse to collect these artifacts. I couldn't risk it. The I.S.S. most likely already had them in their possession, locked away in some secure vault or dimension I couldn't even begin to fathom. And even if I could find them, there was no guarantee that I could take them from those who already possessed them.

I ran my hand through my hair, frustration creeping up on me. I needed something more—something that didn't require me to cross the vast distances between worlds or fight tooth and nail against organizations that had far more resources than I did.

As I thought about it, I realized something unsettling. The only way I could realistically attain the kind of power I needed—be it through the treasures or something else—was to get involved in the very systems that held those powers. Politics, manipulation, alliances. I would have to outwit the I.S.S., outplay them at their own game, all while training my students to be stronger than they ever imagined.

But for now, I had to keep my head down. I couldn't risk exposing myself, not yet. I had to get stronger, find more knowledge, and when the time was right, I would make my move.

But I had to keep in mind that the treasures were not the only path to power. And maybe that was the key—finding a way to unlock my own potential without relying on ancient artifacts and otherworldly objects. But… the thought of those treasures… how could i resist?

I perished the thought. Rationality was key here. Chasing after the Seven Treasures, no matter how tempting, would be too reckless. The treasures were scattered across the multiverse, locked away in places only the most powerful beings could even dream of reaching. Even if I could get my hands on one, there was no guarantee it would provide the kind of power I needed—or that I could control it once I had it. Besides, the I.S.S. was likely already in possession of these artifacts, and if I tried to take them, I would be signing my own death warrant. No. Going after the treasures was not the answer.

I had to be smarter about this.

Training, as much as I hated to admit it, was too time-consuming. Sure, there were ways to increase my strength through rigorous combat practice and honing my abilities, but that would take years. And right now, time was something I didn't have. I wasn't just facing a battle against physical enemies; I was facing the systems and powers that controlled this entire existence. And they had centuries of experience. I couldn't afford to waste time.

Power itself was a double-edged sword. Gaining more would inevitably come with its own set of problems. The last thing I wanted was to keep adding layer after layer of strength to myself, constantly burdening my body with excess power that I couldn't properly manage. That would create instability, vulnerability even. It was inefficient. I needed a way to gain power without overwhelming my systems.

Then it hit me: Absorbing.

It wasn't a new concept, but I had been too focused on the wrong methods. Absorbing the powers of those weaker than me was the way forward. Instead of training endlessly or seeking out dangerous artifacts that could either break me or trap me, I could simply consume the powers of others.

I thought about the lower-level enemies I had faced—beings far weaker than I was. In fact, almost everyone in the academy and the people I had crossed paths with had powers I could absorb. The mana from their attacks, the abilities they wielded, the very essence of their existence—it was all raw material for me to take and use. It made perfect sense.

The White Mana Core within me was already strong, yes. But I wasn't about to start layering mana core after mana core on top of each other—that was dangerous. The last thing I wanted was to make my body a ticking time bomb of unstable magic. However, absorbing things, whether it was energy, power, or even the life force of others, would give me a cleaner, more efficient path to strength. There was no need for the complexities of multiple cores when I could directly enhance my own with what I consumed.

The concept was simple: Take what I need, and keep what serves me. I didn't need to cling to the complicated idea of endlessly accumulating power. I didn't need external sources that could betray me, like the Seven Treasures. I could forge my own strength from the inside out.

Absorption had its risks, of course. There was always the possibility of taking in something that was too much for me to handle, of overloading my core. But I wasn't foolish. I had control. I knew how to manage my own limits, to gauge what was beneficial and what was harmful. It wasn't about blindly absorbing everything in sight—it was about carefully picking and choosing.

There were also other possibilities. Absorbing specific powers would allow me to diversify my abilities. I could absorb different forms of magic, different fighting techniques, different strategic mindsets. It wasn't just about raw strength; it was about becoming more versatile, more unpredictable. The more powers I took in, the more I could adapt to any situation.

It wasn't about becoming a god through a single leap; it was about creating the right foundation. Strength should be built, piece by piece, absorbed and refined into a better version of myself. It was clean, efficient, and, most importantly, rational.

If I could continue absorbing power at the right moments, without pushing myself too far, I would eventually reach a level where I could dominate. Not just on the battlefield, but in the very systems that governed this world and beyond. The I.S.S. wouldn't be a threat anymore. The power structures would no longer hold the same weight.

And if they thought they could control me or use me, well, that would be their mistake.

The real question now was where to begin. Who would be my first target? The opportunities were endless..