He who Bends Time-Chapter 71 - strongest weakling

I was dealing with knowledge—knowledge bound with time—and the main goal was to process this knowledge that I wanted to extract and use in a way that didn’t put my life on the line.

That was my primary aim, and I knew that the current version of me couldn’t achieve this in the condition I was in. So, I had to advance—I had to take a step forward and build my foundation solely for the purpose of achieving that one desire.

And so I did. I built my foundation.

First, I created a theory—a theory based on the fundamental idea of my unique vision, which I named the Theory of the Timelore Codex.

In simple terms, to an ordinary person, this theory meant that time holds all the knowledge of existence in some unknown place, and using my theory, I could read that knowledge.

But to someone else, this entire theory would sound like nonsense. Just hearing the idea that there’s a place holding all the knowledge across time would be seen as an absolute lie. Which means, by common standards, my theory was a lie—and I wasn’t even a graduated magician yet.

However, the disbelief of ordinary people didn’t matter to me. I already knew my theory was a lie—for now. My plan was to make that lie into a truth.

From that starting point, my Timelore theory didn’t just remain a theory. It became something paradoxical—something that others viewed as an impossible concept, but that was entirely real and possible within my own mind.

Thus, After creating the Timelore Paradox, I promoted myself to the position of a Graduated Magician. What came afterward was the most dangerous part—the process of becoming a Bind Magician.

My goal was to reach the Forge Magician stage. Under normal circumstances, a person would take at least one or two years just to become a Graduated Magician. After that, they’d spend several more years studying, refining their theories, and plan crafting their own unique magic before even attempting to step onto the Forge Stage.

However, I was aiming to reach that point in the shortest time possible—a feat considered impossible by ordinary standards. But I was already certain of the future I wanted to create.

So, I underwent the binding process myself. Using the magical circles I had drawn, I channeled Time Mana. On my end, I provided my own empty mana—a type of neutral energy that acts as a vessel capable of being bound to another field of magic, provided the user’s intent is clear.

I did it with my own invention—my neutral mana transformed into a vessel and made direct contact with the Time Mana. In that moment, I felt as if my very existence had come into contact with an immeasurable wave of power—one that could erase me from existence without even trying.

Still, the binding process continued.

While I was enduring the overwhelming pressure alone, I felt my entire body begin to change. An unbearable pain I had never felt before overtook me.

Usually, people undergoing the binding process have others with them—overseers—whose job is to heal the person undergoing the transformation, to ease the unbearable pain, and most importantly, to keep them awake throughout the entire ordeal.

Because if the person loses consciousness, the mana used as a vessel begins to lose its purpose. And once the user’s thoughts and intent—the very thing anchoring the process—fade, the foreign magic being bound to them becomes unstable. It can erupt violently, causing devastating damage to the surroundings and, more importantly, immense harm to the person undergoing the process.

It was a painful process that I had to endure. On one side, it was testing my limits of adaptation to the Time Mana. On the other, I had to keep my mind in a stable condition, without going blank—while also carefully observing the binding process, guiding my empty mana to become a vessel capable of holding Time Mana, and slowly transforming into Time Mana itself within my body.

This was the final phase, where my own mana and the Time Mana—already absorbed into it—began to fuse into one.

As a Theory Magician who already had a clear plan for the future, and with my thoughts being the mechanism through which I operated my mana, there came a moment where my own mana began to understand the theory I had created.

It’s common knowledge among magicians that empty mana is not just random or dead energy—it is alive in a way. It is unique to each person, shaped by their thoughts, emotions, and purpose.

Knowing this, and binding to the field of magic for which my theory was developed, the mana inside my body underwent change during the fusion process. It began transforming into a completely new form of mana—one that was unique to me.

This unique mana gained increased affinity and compatibility with the theory I had developed. This change not only made my connection to Time Magic more natural, but also laid a stronger foundation for future steps in my magical progression.

After the binding process came the process of forging. And without a second thought, I used all of my mana to build this place. In the first place, that was the sole reason my own Time Mana came to be—and it showed remarkable familiarity and adaptability in the creation of this place."

"Whoa, so you’re a Forge Stage magician now? And this place is what you created when becoming a Forge Stage magician?" asked the little Auran in awe.

"Yes, I’m a Forge Stage magician—but not the same kind as others. As I explained, my advancement from the Theory and Binding stages was all done with the intention of building this place. And I did, using everything I had. As a result, I’m currently as weak as a basic-stage Time magician," said Auran.

"What?" exclaimed little Auran in disbelief.

"But doesn’t that make you super weak? Isn’t the whole purpose of advancing forward to become more powerful? And now you’re telling me that even though you’ve stepped into the Forge Stage, you’re as weak as an apprentice who can only cast basic spells? If anyone else knew this, they would laugh and ridicule you!" he added.

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