Waffle-loc pressed his palm against the ancient stone altar, feeling the cold seep into his skin. The forbidden Butter-Blood tome lay open before him, its pages covered in symbols that promised ultimate power. He had come to Ashwood seeking the rituals that would make him unstoppable in battle. His fingers traced the first incantation, and the air grew thick with possibility. The words felt wrong on his tongue, harsh and bitter like spoiled cream. But he spoke them anyway. Dark energy swirled around his outstretched hand, gathering and twisting into solid form. When the light faded, a twisted staff stood before him, oozing with shadow and dripping with dark magic. Waffle-loc gripped the staff and felt its power surge through his arm. This weapon would let him test every battle move he learned from the tome. He swung it in a wide arc, and black flames erupted along its length. The stone floor cracked beneath his feet. His glowing eyes burned brighter as he spun the staff overhead, practicing the combat forms the ritual had planted in his mind. Each strike came faster than the last. Each movement felt more natural. He would master every forbidden technique in that book, no matter how many nights it took. Nothing would stand in his way. Dawn broke over Ashwood's twisted swamps, but Waffle-loc kept training. His muscles burned and his breath came hard, yet he pushed through another combat sequence. The staff felt lighter now, like an extension of his own body. Through the morning mist, he spotted something deeper in the swamp. Gypsy tents tangled with shadowy vines and ancient cypress roots formed a dark compound. Ritualistic totems marked its borders. This was the Coven of Butter-Blood, the place where masters gathered to practice the darkest techniques. Waffle-loc planted his staff in the mud and stared at the coven. That was where he needed to go. That was where he would become unstoppable. He approached the coven's entrance, staff in hand. Inside the largest tent, a massive cauldron bubbled and hissed. Molten magic glowed orange within its iron belly. Grotesque rotting pancake creatures floated on the surface, their forms twisted and wrong. The Tainted Butter-Blood Cauldron stood ready for his use. This was where he would mix the ingredients for the next ritual. Waffle-loc studied the tome again, memorizing the list of components he needed. He had found his training ground. He had found his path to power. Now the real work could begin.