Chapter 476: The First Secret Technique

(An unknown training facility, Planet Vorthas)

While Leo found himself oddly nostalgic at the sight of all the twisted torture equipment scattered around the field, Veyr stood frozen, his brow furrowed with disbelief as he looked from one contraption to another, unable to understand what kind of place they had been brought to.

Unlike Leo, whose Assassin training had begun in a torture park not too different from this one, Veyr had grown up learning street combat, crude dueling routines, and simple body strengthening drills, none of which prepared him for what he now saw before him.

“What… is this place?” he asked slowly, voice laced with unease as he took a cautious step toward one of the larger metal rigs. “Why is there a contraption here that’s literally designed to hang someone to death?”

He gestured toward the rope-bound gallows-like structure beside him, eyes widening as he glanced towards the neck loop and adjustable crank at the base.

“Agh, that?” a deep voice cut through the silence, causing both him and Leo to snap their heads around.

The Twelfth Elder had appeared from seemingly nowhere, his robes fluttering slightly despite the still air.

“That is one of our more ‘refined’ tools,” the Elder said, voice calm and instructional, as though he were pointing out items in a museum. “It’s used to strengthen the neck muscles, decompress the spine, and improve overall lung capacity.”

He stepped closer and gave the contraption a light tap with his knuckles.

“You adjust the height so that you’re forced to balance on your toes, stretching upward just enough to catch a desperate breath. Then, you let yourself hang for a few minutes. Then up again. Then down. Over and over. Hours at a time.”

Veyr’s face contorted in horror. “You’re telling me… that’s training?”

“Yes,” the Twelfth Elder said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It teaches your brain to stay functional even under extreme oxygen deprivation. It trains your neck to handle trauma, and your spine to bear unnatural pressure without snapping.”

He walked past another metal frame, this one lined with thin spikes across its interior surface. “Each contraption you see around you has one purpose—pain. But not senseless pain. Calibrated pain. Focused pain. Pain that builds the kind of control you’ll need for what comes next.”

Veyr blinked rapidly, trying to piece together the logic behind this setup.

“So all these machines… all this stuff… is built for actual training?”

“Correct,” the Twelfth Elder said without hesitation. “Every last piece. Each is designed to isolate a particular muscle group or joint cluster and push it to its breaking point. If you want to learn the first of the Cult’s twelve secret techniques, then you must first reshape your body to obey your will—not your instincts.”

He turned slightly and gestured toward the older man standing quietly behind Veyr.

“Shield Of The Dragon, you’re dismissed. You’re not cleared to hear what I’m about to say next.”

Valterri, understanding the gravity of the situation, immediately gave a silent bow to Veyr, then turned on his heel and disappeared behind a metallic gate, his footsteps echoing away.

As only once he was gone did the Elder continue.

“The spell I’m about to introduce is known as [Shapeshift].”

Leo’s gaze sharpened at the name, while Veyr’s expression shifted from concern to curiosity.

“As you’ve likely guessed, its main purpose is disguise and infiltration,” the Elder continued. “But this isn’t something as simple as illusion magic. It’s something far deeper.”

Without further warning, the Elder’s form began to distort. His shoulders curved downward, his chest receded, and his skin shifted tone. Within moments, he stood as an almost-perfect mirror image of Veyr…. down to the angular jawline and the faint scar under his left eye.

Only the hair color and beard tone remained slightly off.

But that, too, changed moments later, with a second wave of refinement smoothing out the remaining differences.

“So, Skyshard,” the Elder said, now fully wearing Veyr’s appearance, “can you tell which of us is real?”

Leo narrowed his eyes. The only clear giveaway was the robe: Veyr’s garments were maroon, while the Elder was wearing white.

But everything else, from the way their chests rose and fell as they breathed to the way their aura felt in the air, was nearly indistinguishable.

‘If I ran into him in public like this, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Not unless I was watching for something extremely specific,’ Leo thought, as he stepped forward, scanning them both again.

“No… not really,” he admitted. “You’re not wearing the frown Veyr always carries when he’s overthinking, but that’s the only real tell. Aside from that… it’s a flawless disguise.”

The Elder gave a small, satisfied smile, then transformed back into his original form.

“The brilliance of [Shapeshift] lies not just in how well it mimics someone’s look, but in its stability. Once you shift into a form, it doesn’t require active mana flow to maintain. It becomes your default state until you will yourself back into your true form.”

He gave them both a pointed look.

“That means you can fight, sleep, eat, and carry out your mission without fear of accidentally breaking the disguise. Unlike illusion spells that can be shattered by perception, this one is practically untouchable—unless someone knows you intimately enough to spot behavioral patterns.”

Leo nodded slowly, already understanding how powerful that made the technique.

“And the reason this is your first assignment,” the Elder continued, “is because you’ll need to use this skill in nearly every major operation inside the righteous faction’s borders. Whether it’s sneaking into a raid party to recover a forbidden relic, carrying out an assassination in broad daylight, or stealing intel from the Universal Government’s restricted databases… [Shapeshift] will be your first line of defense and your greatest advantage.”

Veyr took a slow breath, glancing around once more at the dozens of brutal training tools surrounding them.

“And all this,” he asked quietly, “is just so we can learn that one skill?”

The Elder smiled faintly.

“This skill, Veyr, is not merely about disguise. It’s about learning how to control every bone, every joint, every muscle and tendon in your body with surgical precision. The pain you will feel here will teach your nerves to obey your will. The strain will forge discipline into your flesh. And the control you gain will become the foundation upon which every technique after this one shall rest.”

He folded his arms behind his back.

“If you cannot learn [Shapeshift], you have no right to learn what comes next.”

Leo let out a soft breath, eyes scanning the rusted metal again.

‘Looks like it’s going to be one of those months,’ he thought, already preparing himself for what came next.