Without a doubt, over those 24 days, Speculator showed the most significant growth.
When it came to pure analytical and observational capability, it was at least twice as efficient as before.
Today, I decided to skip my usual training routine for one simple reason: I was going to hunt for an enemy with real combat prowess—not just those defenseless little rabbits.
This time, I would be the one actively seeking out a fight.
After a few hours of searching, I spotted a green-furred tiger that seemed like the perfect test subject for my newly increased strength.
It was roughly the same size as a Bengal tiger from my previous world, but I made sure not to let my guard down.
I crept up to launch a sneak attack from behind, but before I could even begin channeling my magic, the beast sensed my presence and whipped around.
For a spot in the thick of the forest, this particular area was strangely open; I assumed this was where the tiger usually rested to avoid being ambushed.
Not wanting to miss a single one of its movements, I kept my eyes locked on my opponent, and it returned my intense gaze.
Unsure of how fast the beast actually was, I immediately activated Ariel just in case it decided to blitz me.
The tiger seemed to react to the flare of my magic.
It opened its jaws as if to roar, but instead unleashed a pressurized blast of wind that looked sharp enough to slice through solid steel.
I quickly conjured my Magic Barrier to block the incoming projectile.
While the barrier managed to absorb the brunt of the impact, it shattered completely under the force.
What I didn’t expect was for the tiger to immediately capitalize on that split-second opening, lunging at me with its jaws wide.
Thanks to my active Ariel and the head-on nature of its assault, I managed to dodge the leap—though not cleanly enough to avoid a shallow cut on my left thigh.
The scratch was superficial, meaning it wouldn’t hinder my movement, and with my current magicule capacity, I could keep Ariel running for over an hour.
As long as I didn’t waste my energy on flashy offensive magic, my mobility was secure.
“Okay, it’s only slightly faster than I am.
If I keep my distance, I can handle this,” I reasoned.
I quickly fired a volley of five low-output Fire Arrows, aiming to force it back rather than do serious damage.
This time, I waited until it was right in front of me before throwing up a Magic Barrier, halting its momentum dead in its tracks.
Seizing the opportunity, I countered with Frost Calm.
However, before the freezing mist could envelop the beast, it unleashed another cutting wind breath, and the two elemental attacks neutralized each other in a burst of steam.
I was down to about 70% of my mana; I couldn’t afford to let this drag on.
If only I knew the basics of hand-to-hand combat, I wouldn’t be forced to play keep-away the entire time.
But trying to teach myself martial arts in the middle of a monster-infested forest was both incredibly difficult and, frankly, a bit terrifying.
The tiger possessed a slight speed advantage along with a dangerous ranged attack.
I had two viable options: immobilize it using Bakudo 61—which would require a hefty chunk of my remaining magicules to ensure it held—or try to close the distance and finish it with a single, highly concentrated Fire Arrow like I did with the bear.
“Its senses are sharp, but thanks to my training and Speculator’s spatial analysis, I should still hold the tactical advantage,” I thought.
This time, I took the initiative.
I fired three basketball-sized Fireballs into the space between us, creating a massive screen of dust and ash upon impact that blinded both of our lines of sight.
Immediately after, I swept two bursts of Frost Calm along the flanks of where I sensed the creature, effectively carving out a narrow, frozen corridor that forced the tiger into a single, predictable path.
It took the bait perfectly.
The tiger fired a blast of biting wind straight down the middle to clear the dust, but I was already moving.
What the beast hadn’t anticipated was that I would use the cover of the debris to close the distance.
Before it could react, its wind blast collided with my pre-cast Magic Barrier halfway down the icy hallway, shattering it once again.
Caught completely off guard, the tiger tried to scramble backward, but I wasn’t about to let my prey escape.
I cast a relatively low-output Bakudo 61: Rikujukoro.
It was weak, but it was just enough to throw the beast off balance.
By the time it tore free from the binding—less than a second later—it was already too late.
My Fire Arrow, fueled by almost all of my remaining magicules, had manifested as a glowing, spear-sized projectile.
The green tiger had no time to react before the searing spear pierced its neck.
Constructing that icy corridor had practically drained me dry.
Even though I had walked away with almost no physical damage, the encounter was incredibly taxing.
I only won because the beast never expected a ranged fighter to suddenly rush in for a close-range execution.
For now, I quickly stored the carcass in my Filter and hurried away from the area.
I was in no condition to survive another ambush, and my only priority was finding a place to sleep.
After locating a secure spot far from the battleground, I collapsed and slept undisturbed through the night.
The next morning, I woke up bursting with energy and completely rejuvenated.
“I didn’t take any major damage yesterday, but feeling this incredibly refreshed isn’t normal,” I thought, puzzled.
After spending a couple of minutes circulating my energy and checking the status of my skills, I finally found the answer.
My overall magicule capacity had seen a very minor increase, which made sense given that I had bottomed out my reserves the day before.
However, the real surprise was that my Blind Core had evolved once again.
The only other time this had happened was immediately after my desperate struggle with the bear.
“Does it only grow through real combat?” I wondered.
But that didn’t make complete sense.
I had fought and killed various small animals while hunting over the past few weeks, and none of those encounters had triggered this kind of breakthrough.
After analyzing the pattern, I formulated a hypothesis.
When I fought the bear, it was my first genuine life-or-death struggle across two lifetimes; despite my terror, I had forced myself to adapt and survive.
With the green tiger, I was the one who had voluntarily initiated the hunt of my own free will, choosing to test my limits.
Could it be that this spiritual core evolves whenever my resolve, spirit, or willpower undergoes a significant shift or strengthening?
It seemed highly plausible; after all, it is a spiritual core, not a physical organ.
While confirming this theory would be difficult, the benefits were undeniable: a larger magicule pool, faster passive regeneration, and noticeably higher output for my spells.
“Not bad at all,” I smiled to myself.
With my self-assessment complete, I set off to cover my daily 40 kilometers before settling down for my usual afternoon training.