CHAPTER 155: BODY REFINEMENT 2

"Endure the fire, and you’ll emerge as steel." — Nero Adams

°°°°°

Nero did not immediately return to the dorm. Instead, he unfurled a simple mat upon the ground, the fabric brushing lightly against the earth, and lowered himself into a seated position. The quiet of the courtyard embraced him, a silence broken only by the faint whisper of wind against the trees.

From within his spatial ring, he drew out a small, elegant bottle—the prize of their first mission inside the pocket world, awarded for seizing first place: the Blood Revitalization Pill.

The pill was no ordinary treasure. Highly coveted even among nobles and veteran adventurers, it was a rarity said to embody condensed vitality itself. Its benefits were threefold: it cleansed the body of lingering impurities, enhanced one’s physique beyond its natural limits, and, most importantly, refined the inner channels, thereby expanding the core’s capacity. For cultivators like him, that last trait alone made it priceless. Both he and Khione had earned one as a reward for getting first place and slaying demonized humans, along with a hefty 500 credits. Nero had already spent nearly 400 of those credits to purchase a normal-grade spatial ring—a tool of great convenience, though its storage was limited compared to the higher-grade variants.

With steady hands, he popped the lid of the bottle open. Immediately, a wave of raw vitality surged out, thick and fragrant, almost tangible as it coiled in the air like a dragon of blood-red mist. Nero’s eyes narrowed slightly; the sheer energy radiating from a single pill was enough to make the heart pound.

Without hesitation, he tilted the bottle and let the pill roll into his mouth. The Blood Revitalization Pill dissolved the instant it touched his tongue, flooding down his throat like liquid fire. Within seconds, that fire exploded in his stomach, dispersing outward in violent currents that coursed through his veins. His body trembled faintly as the vitality invaded every fiber of his being.

His muscles tightened, bulging ever so slightly as they absorbed the medicinal power. His bones groaned like tempered steel under a hammer, reforging themselves anew. Even the smallest of his cells drank greedily from the torrent, swelling with fresh energy before compressing into denser, stronger forms. The change was visible—his frame grew subtly more defined, every muscle carved with sharper precision. If not for the refinement his body had already endured, the transformation would have been overwhelming, perhaps even unbearable.

Still, the progress was undeniable. His physical strength swelled, rising steadily until it neared the fabled threshold of the next stage.

But Nero was not one to squander power recklessly. His breathing slowed, deepened, his body entering the familiar rhythm of his cultivation technique. Each inhale drew the wild, rampaging energy inward; each exhale dispersed the impurities flushed from his system. Gradually, he began to redirect the excess vitality toward his second core—the one nestled deep within his heart, born of his Law of Darkness and his unyielding will.

The core pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat. Guiding the medicinal essence into it, Nero refined the chaotic vitality, condensing it into pure, stable prana. The core gleamed brighter, its structure hardening, its reservoir expanding. It grew denser, more resilient, capable of storing greater volumes of energy from the outside world.

Beads of sweat ran down his temple, but his expression never faltered. His focus was absolute, every movement of energy traced and mastered, until the once-violent vitality of the Blood Revitalization Pill had been completely tamed.

When at last he opened his eyes, a faint crimson light flickered within their depths, quickly fading back into his usual calm. His body felt lighter yet sturdier, his breath deeper, his inner reserves far greater than before.

The Blood Revitalization Pill was spent, but its effects lingered within him, he had gotten stronger again.

"Why not push it a little further and start another Body refinement?"

The thought surfaced as Nero sat drenched in sweat, breath ragged, body trembling from the agony of his first refinement session, he recalled it so vividly you could say it happened yesterday. His legs ached as though molten iron had been poured into his bones, but his eyes gleamed with cold determination.

He had already reforged the bones from his toes up to his knees, burning away impurities until they shone with hidden strength. Any sane man would have stopped here, let his body rest, allowed his prana to recover. But sanity had never forged greatness.

"Just one more step," he whispered into the air, summer breeze caressing his face.

Nero straightened his back, steadied his breath, and called upon his cores once again.

His crimson flame unfurled around his body like a cloak, a protective outer layer that wrapped him from head to toe in warmth. It flickered gently, shielding him from the backlash of what he was about to do. Inside, however, another fire awoke—a darker, hungrier blue flame, summoned from the depths of his second core. Unlike the crimson fire, this one did not comfort. It devoured.

And its target was clear.

His knees first. Then upward, bone by bone, until he reached his waist.

The moment the blue fire touched the first bone above his knee, the pain returned like an old enemy—only sharper.

His body convulsed as though struck by a hammer. The sensation was not merely heat; it was as though the marrow itself was being boiled alive, every nerve along his leg set aflame. He clenched his teeth so hard that a faint crack echoed in his jaw, but no sound escaped his throat. He refused to scream.

The flame gnawed deeper, stripping away imperfections, burning every hidden weakness to ash. It was merciless, a blacksmith’s forge that cared nothing for the metal it shaped—only the result. His bone cracked once, twice, then knit itself together under the flame’s tempering. The cycle repeated endlessly, each break sharper than the last, each reform a torment that blurred his vision.

Minutes stretched like eternities. Sweat rolled down his skin in torrents, only to hiss into steam as the crimson flame evaporated it instantly. His body shook violently, but his mind stayed sharp, clinging to one truth: this suffering was proof of growth.

’Knee bone, done,’ he thought grimly, though his vision swam.

Without pause, he pushed the fire higher. The femur. The longest, strongest bone of the human body—and now his next battlefield.

The blue fire bit into it like molten fangs. His pulse thundered in his ears as the pain multiplied tenfold. If the knees had been daggers stabbing into his nerves, this was a sword driven through the very core of him. His breath hitched, chest heaving, but still he uttered no cry.

Burn it. Break it. Reforge it.

He pictured himself as steel within a furnace. Every second of pain was the hammer’s strike. Every crack was weakness being shattered. Every reforging was strength being born.

The femur resisted longer than the smaller bones, but in time, it too submitted. Nero could feel the difference—denser, sharper, harder, as if his legs were slowly becoming weapons unto themselves.

He allowed himself no pause.

From femur to pelvis, the flames advanced. Each step a trial. Each bone a mountain of agony. His pelvis—the foundation of his body’s balance—felt as if it were being torn apart by invisible chains. At one point, his vision went dark entirely, his body swaying dangerously. Only his iron will anchored him in place, dragging him back from the brink of unconsciousness.

His hands trembled, nails digging into the mat beneath him until blood welled beneath his fingertips. Still, he endured.

The crimson flame held steady as his armor. The blue fire continued its merciless assault within. His second core pulsed erratically now, energy draining faster than it could recover, yet Nero refused to falter until the work was done.

By the time he reached his waist, the storm outside had begun to fade, leaving only the sound of rain. Inside the tent, however, the battle raged on. His skin steamed, his muscles quivered, and his entire lower body throbbed with pain so deep it seemed carved into his soul.

At last, the final bone gave way, reforged beneath the relentless fire.

Silence followed.

The flames receded, fading into sparks that dissipated in the air. Nero’s body slumped forward, drenched and trembling, every breath sharp and shallow. His prana core flickered weakly, dangerously close to depletion.

But his eyes—oh, his eyes still burned.

The agony had been endless, the torment unbearable. Yet beneath it all, he could feel it. His lower body was no longer the same. His legs and waist held a strength that thrummed like restrained thunder, a foundation worthy of what he intended to build.

"...Two stages in one day," he whispered hoarsely, a thin smile breaking through his exhaustion.

He let himself collapse onto the mat, body wracked with pain but spirit alight with grim satisfaction. Sleep would not come easily, but it did not matter.

As soon he finished his physical strength broke into the entry level of the next stage meaning while still an entry level Red Knight he possessed the physical strength of some above. Not many have achieved this.