'Divided into grades just like True Magic,' Young Slime noted.

He asked, "How hard is it to reach the limit of growth?"

Then the lion-headed instructor explained—Crack!—throwing the empty beer bottle on the ground. "Let me tell you a story. A person fought a dragon… how long do you think it took him to hit the limit of combat style growth?"

"Since it's tough… maybe one day?" Slime#47 guessed.

"No, just an hour," Nobi cut in before Thomas could reply.

"Huh? Didn't the Instructor say it's hard to hit the limit?" Young Slime asked with a light frown.

"It depends on the person. An ordinary one can't utilize a style's full power," Nobi replied quickly, glaring at Thomas before he could speak. "There was once a necromancer who chose the Arcane battle style."

She added, pausing to check Thomas's cold face playfully, "He overpowered the human armies of more than five billion soldiers. At the end, his power increased a thousand times, but still couldn't hit the limit—"

"Even Tier Two mastery doesn't grant more than a hundredfold boost," Slime#47 exclaimed, eyes widening.

Thomas grinned, pulling a new beer bottle. "Don't be surprised. They are just proper utilization of battle power while giving up something, and the major point—"

Multicolored Slime narrowed his eyes with a frown as Nobi cut in with a grin, "You haven't seen the actual power of mastery."

"Actual power?" he asked.

"At Tier Three, mastery's actual power starts to show. One and Two are easy to train," the instructor replied, emphasizing Tier Three.

"Typically, an ordinary person takes ten years to get to mastery Tier One. Tier Two takes fifty years. But Tier Three takes five hundred years—and that's why, from three, a mastery's actual power begins to show," Nobi explained the growth time.

"Battle style is how you adapt all your abilities—skills and spells—during combat. Meanwhile, mastery is the actual power you can possess," Thomas said, clarifying. "Of course, mastery is going to be stronger."

Young Slime nodded, musing, 'Even Elder Slime told me to focus on mastery. It was stronger from the start.'

He felt bitter as he realized, 'I took almost ten years to get Tier One mastery—combining the days from the fourteen or so loops.'

'As for Tier Two… It's even tougher.' He didn't know the exact count, but it was due to Vael's spell—edict of yesterday, which allowed him to get many Tier Two masteries.

'Tier Three… five hundred years—since I'm ordinary.' He felt anxious. A lot of things were going on with him.

He had to speed up training masteries. He couldn't wait that long, and he decided to stop using loops as grinds. He had to give every loop his all.

'I have to acquire a trait…trial of Demon King's heir… don't let me down.' He could only bet on another method of speeding up mastery training.

"So, have you decided?" Thomas asked, folding his hands. "Should I give you more time?"

"No," Multicolored Slime replied. "I've decided—Ancient style."

Only sixteen days remained to clear this trial. He had to get the combat style quickly and withstand that white dragon for a few minutes.

"How… how did you decide?" Nobi asked sharply.

She didn't want Young Slime to make mistakes and regret his decision.

Battle style was very important—it redefined how one fights and helped in getting more powerful in combat.

Thomas also fixed his eyes on Slime#47 for confirmation.

"I'd like to change my tactics based on the opponent," Young Slime replied confidently, "Second—I don't like sacrificial-type powers. All the styles have some restrictions for combat increase, except for the Ancient style."

Sacrifice alone was enough for him to pick it over the others. After experiencing everything he had, he started to hate anything sacrificial.

"Very well," Thomas noted. "I'll teach you the mechanics of Ancient combat style."

Nobi sat cross-legged, meditating, uninterested in listening to the training methods.

The instructor explained slowly, "The mark of the Ancient battle style must be embedded into the soul."

"Mark on soul?" Young Slime questioned, frowning.

He didn't want to touch his soul. His soul essence was already leaking. If he made an error, he might fall dead on the spot.

"Don't worry," Nobi said reassuringly, with her eyes still closed. "It's very easy and won't affect anything."

Thomas spread his right hand, opening his palm.

Blue mana spread out from his palm as a mark formed—a parchment scroll with two wooden-like rods from condensed mana at the two ends.

The scroll was unfurled, as a half-opened, single demonic eye formed in the center. The demonic eye was blue in color due to mana.

'What incredible control over mana,' Young Slime mused, impressed as he glanced at the floating mark.

"This scroll is a mark of Ancient combat style," the instructor said, pointing his other hand at the mark. "We have to form this mark on the soul."

"Hence it stays forever. Even reincarnation or rebirth cannot change it," Young Slime muttered, as he finally understood the reason behind why one can only pick one battle style for eternity.

The instructor nodded. "Yes. This mark stays on the soul forever."

"It's not that one can make only one mark on the soul," he continued, after a pause.

"But…" Slime#47 muttered with a frown, recalling Thomas stating only one style per person.

"The soul can endure multiple battle-style marks—but the marks themselves are prideful. Once two battle-style marks come into contact, they will try to devour each other," the instructor explained, spotting the multicolored slime's doubt.

"The soul cannot bear it, is it?" Young Slime questioned.

He had experienced a few soul attacks, so he personally understood the pain mechanics of the soul.

"Yes," Thomas confirmed, appreciative. "The stronger one gets, so does his soul—and with the soul, the battle-style mark."

"The two marks will definitely clash with each other due to pride," he explained. "They won't stop until only one remains, and since they are carved on the soul, they cannot be defended against."

"So, the soul is destroyed from their clash?" Young Slime asked sternly.

"Yes, and it's not an ordinary death," Thomas confirmed sharply. "A painful soul dispersal—a true death."

He warned sternly, "Don't try to inscribe a second combat style mark on your soul."

He explained all this as a warning—so Slime#47 wouldn't attempt to acquire a second battle style.

He'd seen how resilient and numb Slime#47 had been to pain.

'Something is wrong with this child's mind,' he thought. 'And there is no Demon King in his time.'

He already understood that Young Slime needed power—massive power.

He warned him, since he'd seen many demons dying in search of more power. He didn't want Slime#47 to suffer the same fate.

However, Young Slime knew how painful soul injuries could be. He'd taken a hit on his soul directly. So, he wouldn't try anything risky.

'I still have many lives dependent on me,' he mused, knowing he couldn't make silly choices.

"You understood why one can only choose one battle style," Thomas asked, wanting to reconfirm.

Young Slime nodded right away. "Yes."

He was instead itchy about something else. To find out how these marks were created, or who made them.

'I guess who created the magic runes might be the creator of the combat styles' marks as well,' he mused curiously.

----

After a few moments of explanation, Young Slime sat cross-legged, meditating, focusing on his soul.

Within just a few moments, he had memorized the Ancient battle style symbol.

He entered his soul dimension, guided by a ray of mana.

Thomas and Nobi fixed their gazes sharply on Young Slime.

The lion-headed instructor took a sip from his beer bottle. Nobi sat near Young Slime, with a flask of silver-colored potion.

'I want to see whether he can withstand the pain now without breaking a sweat,' Thomas mused with narrowed eyes.

He exchanged glances with Nobi, who was ready for any problem.

In Young Slime's soul dimension—

"How ugly," Slime#47 muttered, glancing at the two half-fused white spheres hanging in the void.

His soul was surrounded by the five white barriers, along with a cracked Will barrier on top of all.

Transparent white soul essence leaked out like fog.

"Only a Tier Three can master a battle style," he muttered. "It's because of True Magic. Mana and aura aren't enough to inscribe the mark on the soul."

He extended his two hands, sitting cross-legged on dry ground. Pulling demonic force from his body, he attempted to create the square in his palms with high focus.

He wasn't foolish enough to inscribe it directly onto his soul on the first attempt.

'The mark must be perfect,' he mused, as he tried to form a square.

He started from the beginning.

"It's too rough," he muttered, glancing at the weird-shaped box in his palms.

His control over demonic force was too poor.

[ Ding! Demonic Force Mastery proficiency +1! ]

A notification flashed in his vision, and a grin spread across his face.

"It increased mastery proficiency too—killing two birds with one stone," he said with a wide smile.

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