Sixth Sense was more than just a technique that could be applied to battle.
It was an all-encompassing survival skill that alerted one to any and all forms of danger, as demonstrated by the First Elder's ability to know which glass was poisoned and which was not.
So while Leo still had his aura mastery to rely on in combat, where he could read intent lines before an attack arrived, [Sixth Sense] offered a different kind of protection, one that extended beyond the battlefield.
It was a safeguard that could warn him even in sleep, or in moments when his guard was lowered, making it nearly impossible for an enemy to sneak up on him, and in that sense, it was a skill as practical as it was essential.
"To master this skill, you must learn to sharpen your instincts beyond what is ordinary.
Everyone, whether it is a newborn child or an old man at death's doorstep, possesses some form of survival instinct, yet this technique refines that primal sense to its absolute limit.
But the path to learning it is anything but easy," the First Elder continued, a smirk of pride tugging at his lips.
"The reason why only the Cult can pass down this technique is because only our alchemists know the secret behind brewing the potion we call the Instinct Enhancing Potion.
Once consumed, it forces your survival instincts into overdrive, pushing them to their peak by subjecting you to an episode of extreme paranoia and mental strain, convincing your very mind that danger lurks around every corner, tricking you into believing that death itself is breathing down your neck.
Of course, you will not actually be in danger, but your goal will be to confront those illusions head-on, conquering the fear while holding on to the benefits of that state—whether it be sensing which vial is poisoned, or predicting the direction of an attack before it ever comes.
Throughout this process, you may hallucinate, you may lose your grip on reality altogether, and there will be times where you cannot tell the difference between real and false threats.
Yet if you endure, if you persevere under my guidance, you will come to master it, and in time [Sixth Sense] will settle into you as a passive skill, one that will never leave you, no matter the battlefield."
The First Elder declared, as Leo and Veyr exchanged a nervous glance, each of them silently weighing the price of what was to come.
"Now then, before we begin, there is a matter of preparation," the First Elder said his voice dropping to a calmer yet far more serious note, as he snapped his fingers toward his assistant.
From a small lacquered chest, the assistant retrieved two pairs of silver handcuffs, their surface covered with dense runes that pulsed faintly with a dull violet glow.
"These," the First Elder continued, stepping forward as though savoring the tension that now hung in the training arena, "are the Cult's strongest power restricting cuffs. Once you put them on, you will be unable to channel mana or strength beyond the most basic level. Your bodies will still function, your muscles will still move, but you will be reduced to no different than an amateur tier man."
He paused, allowing the words to sink in, as his eyes shifted between Leo and Veyr as if mocking their hard acquired strength over the years.
"You see, true instinct is not sharpened when you can lean on your power. It must be stripped bare, tested raw, and only when your strength is shackled will your mind and spirit be forced to sharpen their edge. Otherwise, you will never learn to distinguish instinct from the noise of your own abilities."
He justified, as Veyr gulped a mouthful of saliva.
"Cuffs, huh?" He muttered, his usual grin dimming into something more subdued, though he reached for the pair without complaint, with Leo following suit as well.
"Good," the First Elder said, satisfaction lacing his tone as he gestured for the assistant to bring forth the next items.
Two crystal vials were placed before them, each filled with a shimmering orange liquid that looked no different from mango juice.
However, as soon as the assistant uncorked them, the faintest whiff of the concoction made Leo's stomach tighten, the scent sharp yet oddly sweet, enough to make him wary before even lifting it.
"This is the Instinct Enhancing Potion," the Elder said. "Once you drink it, your latent instincts will awaken, but they will do so violently. Your mind will descend into paranoia, your heart will beat as though enemies are all around you, and every shadow will feel like it carries a blade. But remember, this is an illusion. It is not real danger, yet your body will react as though it is. What you must learn is to balance on that knife's edge— embracing the sharpened awareness without losing yourself to madness."
Leo exchanged one last glance with Veyr, both of them silent, both of them aware that hesitation had no place here.
"Bottoms up, cousin," Veyr muttered as he gripped his vial and downed it in one motion.
Leo followed, the liquid burning like fire as it coursed down his throat, spreading into his chest with unnatural heat.
At first, nothing.
Then—
His heart began to race, faster and faster, as though trying to break through his ribcage, and suddenly the arena around him no longer felt still.
The walls seemed closer, the shadows darker, the flicker of torchlight twisting into movements at the edge of his vision.
'There's someone behind me.'
The thought came unbidden, sharp as a knife, and Leo's body tensed before his reason could argue otherwise.
He spun, only to find nothing there, yet the conviction that he was being watched did not fade.
Across from him, Veyr was already breathing hard, his hand twitching toward his side where his blade would normally rest, his eyes darting at every corner as though he expected an ambush to spring at any second.
"Do not resist the paranoia," the First Elder's voice cut through the haze, steady and calm. "Feel it, let it flood your senses, let your body tremble if it must, but do not drown. Focus, and ask yourself what lies beneath the fear. The truth is buried there."
The faint sound of footsteps echoed through Leo's mind, though the assistant and the Elder had not moved an inch.
His breathing grew shallow, his eyes locking onto the corner where the sound had come from, convinced that a blade would emerge from the darkness any moment.
His instincts screamed at him: danger! danger! danger!
Yet when nothing came, when the silence held, he clenched his jaw, realizing that the potion was twisting his senses, magnifying every whisper of unease into a storm of terror.
"Fuck me... Fuck!"
Veyr let out a low curse, sweat dripping down his temple as he swayed unsteadily, his pupils dilating wide as though he could see things no one else could.
"There's... there's poison in the air. I can taste it. It's choking me— You dirty bastard, you want to kill me and Cuz while we are hallucinating, don't you?
You fucker..."
He said, as the First Elder simply chuckled at his words, not bothering to acknowledge or deny what he felt at this moment, as he simply let him draw his own conclusions.
(More chapters in Buyers Club for TMT)