Within the scope of minutes, Tarquin Wroe's mana output had raised from Unranked to Iron... two *entire* steps.
The phenomenon was unheard of.
But how?
Tycondrius clenched his fist.
He had broken the Laws... by his own power.
He... had gained a Skill he never realized he wanted-- the ability to commit wanton violence against his trainees AND simultaneously unlock their potential!
It was perfectly tailored for him as the guild leader of the storied Sol Invictus... as well as a cultured gentleman with a penchant for cruelty and violence.
...Tycon cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.
It seemed... so... obvious that such a cheat-type ability could be learned by a Warlord like himself. The entire point of the Class was to push his allies into achieving their full potential!
"Boss..." Wroe murmured hesitantly, "Why... why are you smiling like that?"
Tycon (flicking wrist) - “Take this, Wroe: a straight razor.”
Wroe - “Thanks, Boss. How did you know I wanted to kill myself?”
Tycon - “I want you to *shave.* Curb your suicidal tendencies-- at least until the mission is complete.”
Wroe (sighing) - “Aye aye, Boss...”