Immortal descent

The gates of Dusk Academy creaked open, revealing a sprawling expanse that could only be described as a city within a city. Towering spires pierced the sky, each adorned with intricate carvings that depicted the academy's storied history. Cobblestone streets wound their way through bustling squares, lush gardens, and grand halls. The air buzzed with anticipation as the newly admitted students, hailing from various races, stepped into the academy's heart.

Aeron's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. The academy wasn't merely a place of learning—it was a self-contained world. Each race had its designated quarters, tailored to their unique needs and cultures. The dragons had their grand, flame-lit halls, the elves resided in serene groves that seemed to pulse with life, while the humans were given modest yet comfortable accommodations.

Despite the disparity in luxury, there was a shared undercurrent of excitement. Many of the poorer students marveled at their rooms, which, although simple, were far better than anything they had ever experienced.

Aeron, however, felt a different kind of satisfaction. His room, though modest compared to his previous life, offered a sense of privacy and a sanctuary for his growing power. As he entered, he locked the door behind him, summoning the book with a practiced ease.

"Where would you say my progress on the Death Law stands?" Aeron inquired, his tone measured but laced with an undercurrent of impatience.

The book responded, its voice carrying a mix of admiration and cold calculation. "You're around level 15. For someone your age and experience, it's remarkable. Truly, you are a born genius in the art of death."

Aeron's lips curled into a smirk. The compliment was appreciated, but he craved more. "Let's shift focus for a moment. Show me the Poison Law. I know I've been given this path to immortality, and while I've made strides, I feel... restless. My scientific background drives me to experiment, to create. Dissecting that thug was a temporary salve, but I need more."

The book's response was chilling. "Then kill."

"What?" Aeron's eyes narrowed, the simplicity of the suggestion catching him off guard.

"You heard me," the book reiterated. "Every life you take not only brings you closer to mastering the Death Law but also satiates your inherent thirst for power. It's a symbiotic relationship—destruction begets growth."

Aeron stared at the book, his thoughts swirling. The logic was undeniable. His grin widened, taking on a predatory edge. "Let's delve into Poison Law, then."

The book's pages turned, revealing the arcane secrets of poison. "Poison is the most enigmatic of laws. At its basic level, it can induce sleep or paralysis—commonplace effects. However, as you progress, it can corrode the body, destroy the soul, and even warp the fabric of reality itself. Advanced poison can pierce through dimensions, killing even death."

Aeron's intrigue deepened. The concept of a force that could erode existence was intoxicating.

"To master poison, you must first become one with it," the book continued. "The essence of poison must corrode you, but only to the extent that you can harness its power without succumbing to its weaknesses. This process requires injecting various poisons into your system, allowing them to take root, and then mastering them. However, this isn't something you should attempt here. The academy is no place for such delicate experimentation. Find solitude—true solitude—and then embrace the chaos."

Aeron nodded, absorbing the information. "For now, I'll focus on the Death Law. What's this new skill you mentioned?"

The book shimmered, guiding Aeron into the Deathland—a realm where the boundaries between life and death blurred. In the center of the shadowy expanse floated a dark, crimson orb, pulsating with ominous energy.

Aeron approached, his heart pounding with anticipation. As he grasped the orb, a wave of soothing, almost pleasurable energy coursed through him. The sensation was fleeting, leaving a lingering sense of power.

He quickly opened the book, eager to uncover his new ability.

Soul Reaper's Scythe

Description: Summon a scythe forged from dark energy, capable of harvesting the souls of those it touches.

Effects:

Deals massive damage to all enemies within its range.

Harvested souls temporarily boost the user's mana and strength.

Surviving enemies are left weakened, their defenses shattered, and their will broken.

The scythe's energy lingers in the air, creating a zone of death that drains life from those who linger too long.

Aeron's excitement was palpable. This skill was a game-changer, a weapon that could turn the tide of any battle. He summoned the book once more, contemplating his next move.

"There's just one problem," Aeron mused. "I need souls to reap, and there are none at the moment."

The book's response was immediate. "Do not fret. This is a trial ground. There will always be opportunities to kill. Patience, Aeron. Your time will come."

Aeron's grin returned, darker and more determined than ever. The trials ahead were just the beginning, and he was ready to carve his path in blood and shadow.

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