"Is this the famous Hila Cave?" Merka was brought by Mammon to a small room at a corner of Erisburg.

But Merka didn't expect that this "small room" only looked small from the outside. It turned out to be a whole new world once he stepped inside.

"You're right, Hila Cave is another name for this training room."

"Just like how hotels claim to be Shangri-La, and inns are named Heaven on Earth." Mammon explained carefully.

Inside Hila Cave, not only was the space surprisingly vast, but it was also filled with mechanical and electronic devices that even the knowledgeable Merka didn't recognize.

Countless twisted iron bars forcefully pierced through a metal sphere hanging in the sky.

They were connected like blood vessels and a heart, as if they would start beating in the next second, filled with a strange vitality and ominous signs of impending doom.

Merka was stunned, his mouth wide open. He thought he had a relatively deep understanding of Acadia's nobles, but now it seemed like he had only scratched the surface.

"Merka, do you know about the Volcano Mode?"

"That's a secret among advanced magicians."

Mammon smiled faintly and approached a huge device, starting to manipulate the machinery.

"Everyone is born as a dormant volcano."

"To become an active volcano, one needs to undergo the torturous refinement of magma and intense flames."

"In Acadia's Monaroya Volcano, countless magicians sink into the endless magma river every year."

"Do you know why?"

"Because they are all martyrs, sacrificing themselves for the magic bestowed upon them by the gods."

"That's right."

Under Mammon's continuous manipulation, the grand machine emitted a loud hissing sound, and the violent pistons performed dazzling strokes under the pressure of the valves.

"Volcano Mode is not just a theory, it turns a person into a true volcano."

"After even the cheapest soil goes through baptism by fire, it can transform into exquisite porcelain. Who says humans cannot be the same?"

"The secret to practicing the Volcano Mode is to immerse yourself in the most terrifying, survival-challenging, indescribable environment in the world—let yourself deeply experience every bursting bubble inside the scorching hell; every drop of lava that can melt earth and char rocks; every strand of steam that can extinguish all life in the world."

"They will teach you how to create an environment within yourself that is similar to theirs."

"Gaining insight into nature, that is the shortcut to magic."

"This process may take a lifetime for some, several years for others, or maybe just a few months for certain individuals."

"Opportunity and danger go hand in hand. The longer you stay in the magma, the more likely you are to gain enlightenment."

"But if you can't muster up the courage to jump into the volcano, the learning process will never begin."

Mammon pressed a button, and the gigantic iron sphere in the sky opened its gluttonous mouth, lowering an iron retractable ladder.

"But now, there is a simpler method."

"This device is one of the achievements of the laboratory from the beginning."

"It can simulate the painful sensation of being immersed in magma on your body without actually harming you."

"Turing also learned the Volcano Mode without leaving his home, using this device in just one year."

"Give it a try. If you can master the volcano mode, you won't have to worry about the lack of magic for a while, and I'll even give you an ace in the hole," Mammon said, gesturing towards the staircase that led to the iron ball.

"Please, if anything unexpected happens, I'll immediately pull you out," Mammon assured Merka.

Seeing the ambiguous smile on Mammon's face, Merka's mind went blank for a moment. He felt as if a dazzling tomorrow was hanging above his head. Merka raised his hand to block the sunlight, but found that there was nothing there.

In the center of the pale ceiling, there was only a monotonous and frightening iron ball.

"Alright... I understand," Merka's face turned pale. With a heavy heart, he finally stepped onto the staircase.

Has Turing ever touched such a handrail?

Has Turing ever experienced such anxiety?

As Merka stepped on the silent steel, a sense of empathy comforted him -

Supporting him as he ascended the last step.

Merka was just one step away from entering the iron ball.

His naturally drooping arm trembled slightly.

Stay calm... Why can't I stay calm?

Merka thought to himself that Mammon wouldn't harm him.

Intuitively, it felt like this iron ball wasn't dangerous either.

"It's alright, I've experienced pain before."

"Compared to my time in the orphanage, no matter how painful..." Merka composed himself and took the final step.

"Poof..."

Severe pain caused Merka to bite his own tongue.

A surge of intense magic enveloped the entire space inside the iron ball.

Merka's blood gushed out from his mouth, mixing with the viscous magic in the air, forming a blood-like substance resembling magma.

Merka collapsed into the pool of blood.

Annoyance and anguish felt like the most precise surgical knives, pulling Merka's nerves one by one, torturing them in order.

The punishment of being bathed in magma seemed to turn one into a raging fire, becoming a scorching sun.

Merka had the illusion that all the bones in his body had been crushed and flattened, before being spread evenly like a pancake in every corner inside the iron ball, sizzling and grilling like a meat patty.

Time seemed to pass by five minutes, or perhaps five hours, or even five days, or five weeks.

At this moment, Merka's eyes were filled with a fiery red, and his mad mutterings seemed to come from the mouth of God, constantly reverberating in his mind.

He no longer knew what he was doing, unable to control his own body.

He involuntarily started pulling his nails out of his fingertips one by one, but he couldn't feel his fingers.

In the storm of pain, Merka attempted to detach his head from his neck to end the suffering.

But he couldn't feel his neck either.

He wanted to pass out, or even die directly.

But he couldn't, as his skin and internal organs burned like an anvil, while his inner self remained as clear as a mirror.

In the clear mirror, a merciful mountain is reflected, ablaze with red. Cunningly red, stunningly verdant. The silent mountain seems as though it wants to transform into blood, plunging into the abyss of eternal madness with no support, no abode. Fortunately, just when irreversible consequences were about to occur, Merka was pulled out of the iron ball by Samael.

Merka, yanked out by Samael, was lifted in his hand. He was completely lifeless, not struggling or moving, appearing as if dead, resembling a small rabbit. Obviously, some of the sensations Merka experienced inside the iron ball were illusions, while others were real. His fingernails had been completely torn off, and the tips of his fingers dripped with profuse blood. His head was also injured to some extent, revealing a grim wound with exposed skull.

"Are you alright, pretty boy?" Samael, who always dismissed Merka, now showed a hint of concern. On the other hand, Mammon, standing behind Samael, continued to smile as if unaffected.

"I..." Merka tried to speak, but his throat seemed to be unresponsive.

"You're quite impressive, lasting five seconds," Mammon said nonchalantly. "I thought you wouldn't make it past three seconds."

"Turing used to spend two hours every day practicing volcano mode with this machine when she was young," Mammon continued. "I suppose she never told you about that."