"We don't have strong bodies, and we can't use arcane magic endlessly. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 info What we really rely on is our will. ”

This phrase was first heard by Sorovich when he was 8 years old. After that, this famous quote from his teacher accompanied him for the rest of his life.

People are fragile, and if given the right opportunity, a finger-long stick can kill people in an instant.

And people are not the same. The three-foot-long blade, if he slashed ten times on a seasoned warrior, he would not be able to change his face.

If it's a wanderer, it will prevent the blade from touching the clothes.

But the mage did not have the agility of a wanderer to dodge attacks, the muscular body of a warrior, or the divine protection of a priest. It doesn't have all the talent bloodlines of Warlocks.

All the mage has is the will.

Since childhood, Sorovich has been honing his will.

At first, he just swallowed the carrion carefully, and kept telling himself in his heart that it was a supreme delicacy. When he first did that, the foul smell and soft touch made him sick.

But how can a person who has honed his will be intimidated by this?

As time passes, the smell of the carrion becomes aromatic, and the taste of the carrion becomes moderately soft and hard, full of elasticity.

When he was finally able to comfortably eat carrion as his daily diet, Sorovich moved on to a higher level.

Rotten flesh is not inedible in itself.

How can this prove that his will cultivation is sufficient?

As a result, the object changed again and again

At first, it was grass and trees, and then it became rotten earth.

But that's not enough,

In the days when Sorovich was 14 years old, he finally achieved a small achievement.

Sand, the cleanest sand. Washed a hundred times in the clear water, it is a desert of all life.

Sorovich, on the other hand, has been sustained by it for a month.

Although, he was as pale and thin as the other mages.

In addition to honing his will, he never stopped learning in the arcane.

From the initial magic trick to the current fireball, Sorovich has mastered it very well.

The day of his departure was approaching, and Sorovich was as quiet as an iceberg.

Trials, how many cowards have been scared away, and how many characters have been refined.

But Sorovich took it in stride, as if it were just a daily lesson.

With serrated machetes and spiky arrows, eighteen squads of weapons took turns attacking him. And the hired guards were already lying on the ground.

But Sorovich kept his composure, even though his chest had been pierced by a sword.

Looking at each other's clinging faces, ignoring each other's sinister smiles. Sorovich still chanted his incantation, intending to unleash the power of the arcane.

The puzzled bandit twisted the hilt with all his might, causing the cold blade to stir inside Sorovich's body. He longed to hear the skinny mage's plea.

But the spell still came out of Sorovich's lips with precision, without the slightest trill. Although blood had already flowed from the corners of the mage's mouth. Under the influence of the will, unless it has been successfully cast, otherwise, the spell will never stop.

In this way, with his own will, Sorovich, who broke thirty-eight bones and broke three arteries, walked towards victory step by step.

At the end of the trial, whether it was the innocent and kind white robe, or the red robe who adhered to neutrality and pursued knowledge, and even the black robe that had always been indifferent, they all trembled with excitement because of success.

And Sorovich just stared calmly at a clay vase, trying to see it through with his will.

The days are turning like the pages of a book, and Sorovich has more of a routine.

He was seen blindfolded and walking from the edge of the cliff.

Without any magic, Sorovich just walked through the air like he was walking in his own garden.

No, it's not enough!

Amid the amazement of the people, Sorovich admonished himself.

"When I close my eyes, all the cliffs of the world do not exist. ”

How can this be.

The true will is to see the cliffs and see that there is only air under your feet.

But he can, moving forward safely, as if there is a bluestone road below.

Sorovich's daily routine continues day by day, and so does the daily routine of the devil.

Eventually, Sorovich noticed that the number of refugees around him was increasing day by day.

Food prices are also rising day by day.

As the maple leaves fell, refugees with empty bellies stretched out their palms to the sky in despair.

Sorovich shared his secrets with them, and they found nothing.

Needless to say, the sand and soil have no life, and even the grass and trees cannot bear it.

Looking at the body that fell from time to time, Sorovich felt a little touched.

So he went against the flow of people towards the flames of war.

At the front, the clash of fire and sword has long ended.

Now it's an army of demons hunting.

Or rather, it is sweeping away pests.

Like ants under a magnifying glass, the human army shrunk into a ball piece by piece.

Like mosquitoes swatted by flies, human armies are crushed to pulp.

But Sorovich ignored them, and he still strolled forward, as if he were walking on campus.

There was a wicked laugh from the sky. A demon spotted him. So, like a heron that found a fish.

But Sorovich calmly recited the incantation, just as he had in the trial.

As the green rays turn the demons to ashes, more demons spread their wings and fly.

Bat-like wings shield the sky, and then they hover down like crows.

But Sorovich still chanted his mantra as if to banish a swarm of summer mosquitoes.

Streams of light shot into the sky, and groups of demons fell from the sky. Like, the mallard duck in that hunting season.

With a light-hearted mood, Sorovich cleared the first hurdle.

The earth began to tremble. Grains of sand, trembling on the ground.

In the distance, the dust was flying, and it was an army of demons coming.

Sorovich is certainly not lazy, but he has also set his feet. In front of a hundred thousand hideous demons, even he couldn't take a step forward.

But the will that prevailed over all metal made him stand there, like a cliff waiting for the waves to crash.

Colorful magic shoots out, and Sorovich puts what he's learned to good use.

But like a stone thrown in a huge wave, even if it splashes a little water, it is powerless to stop the progress of the other party.

But Sorovich still calmly cast his magic, as if he was admiring the moon with his lover.

Close, close. After giving thousands of his compatriots, a demon stretched out its giant palm to Sorovich.

With just one blow, Sorovich's head splattered like a tomato.

But the spells continued to pop up.

Hands, still calmly gesturing. There is no intention of stopping.

And the precise spells are still popping up. Purely by the action of the will, there is no need for the maintenance of the voice and tongue.

If you don't have eyes, you can see with your will.

If you don't have ears, you listen with your will.

Spells, still accurately blasted in dense enemy areas.

The demon with an iron heart is not afraid of everything in front of him. The attack continued, as if the water droplets in the cavern were undisturbed by the outside world.

Hands, feet...... One by one, the organs left Sorovich, but he didn't care.

The cold incantation was still pronounced in a cold voice, making the demons who braved the fire and brimstone tremble.

A giant claw slammed open the mage's chest and crushed his heart.

But the spell continued as always, blasting hordes of demons to pieces.

I deny, I deny, I deny that I can't continue to fight. In the mage Sorovich's consciousness, apart from casting spells, there was only this voice left.

The helpless demon chopped the mage into pulp, but the sound of the incantation still came out of the air under the influence of the will. Then the magic that came out destroyed them mercilessly.

As precise as an atomic clock, every six seconds, a massive destruction occurs in the demon horde.

In this way, the archmage Sorovich, relying on his will, defeated 100,000 enemy troops

And he was dissatisfied with all that.

Time passes like the pages of a book.

A giant hand formed by consciousness turns the pages of the book upside down.

The 8-year-old mage apprentice, Sorovich, stood patiently in the dark mage tower.

Listen to the teachings of his mentor:

"You, remember, how useful the will is!"

Well, this article is actually a red skull smashing Su Xiu's tortoise shell - consciousness triumphs over matter.

In the premise of this article, the mage relies on the will - not the intellect or anything. There are many people with high intelligence, but not all of them can perform magic. Only those who can fully trust their own will can change reality with spells and gestures. For example, fireballs out of thin air. And people with high intelligence can only make fireballs out of oil or something.