Pe:
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Chapter 1 – Part 7H
(Dungeon Extraction & First Professor Recognition)
The minor dungeon pulsated faintly in the fading light, a subtle heartbeat against the silence of the forest outskirts. Jofyn crouched at its edge, hands hovering over the shards embedded in his robe. The Forge Core hummed gently, a rhythm in tune with the faint pulse of the hidden cavity.
"Easy," he whispered, brushing dust from the edge of the fissure. "Just… careful."
The robe flared, almost bouncing in agitation. "Careful? Farmer boy, you're practically threading magic into the belly of the earth. If we slip, we'll have trouble. And no, don't look at me like I'm exaggerating."
Jofyn smirked faintly. "Would you rather I not try?"
The cloak huffed, shifting to cover his shoulders snugly. "Fine. Just remember: shards first, then crystals, then… you know, the rest of the world doesn't wait."
He placed the low-grade shards into the faintly glowing cavity, arranging them with precision. Threads of magical energy traced his gestures, weaving subtle glyphs that resonated with the elemental pulse. A faint hum filled the air, barely audible but alive.
Suddenly, a faint snap echoed from within the fissure. Dust puffed upward as a small, jagged crystal shard shifted, threatening to collapse. Jofyn froze. One wrong move, and the delicate balance would fail.
"Focus," he whispered. "Let the Forge Core guide you."
The shards in the robe pulsed brighter, almost as if responding to his concentration. He traced a delicate sigil in the air, guiding the energy, coaxing the crystal into alignment. Slowly, carefully, the minor hazard stabilized, and the cavity's pulse settled into a steady rhythm.
The robe muttered, voice soft but impressed. "Ha! Not bad, Vale. Subtle, precise… and alive. You're learning faster than expected."
Jofyn allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The crystals shimmered faintly, signaling successful extraction. Small fragments of elemental energy lingered in the air, humming with potential. He carefully collected them, storing the rare finds in a reinforced pouch he had crafted during late-night forge work.
From the edge of the trees, a quiet voice spoke, breaking the rhythm of the forest.
"Impressive control."
Jofyn turned. A professor, tall and austere, stood partially hidden behind a moss-covered stone. His eyes narrowed, studying the subtle dance of Jofyn's hands and the faint pulses in the cavity.
"Professor…" Jofyn said, bowing slightly, shards clinking softly in his pouch.
"Do not speak yet," the professor said, voice low, thoughtful. "Most students would have rushed, destroyed the cavity, or worse. You approached with… patience, and I see precision. That is rare."
The robe flared proudly. "Finally! Someone notices, and not for theatrics. About time."
Jofyn chuckled softly, eyes returning to the cavity. "I didn't do it for recognition."
"Perhaps not," the professor murmured. "But recognition will follow talent, as it always does. Keep this approach. Discipline, patience, and subtle ingenuity—these are the foundations of mastery."
As the sun dipped further, shadows deepened, and the first evening breeze brushed the forest floor. Jofyn carefully closed the fissure, sealing it with his glyphs and threads, leaving no trace except the faint hum of energy alive beneath the earth.
The robe whispered conspiratorially, "Well, farmer boy, today was productive. First recognition, first extraction, first… minor hazard survived. Not bad for a day's work."
Jofyn smiled faintly, adjusting his pack. He didn't know the full scope of what he had touched, what tiny ripple he had left in the hidden pulse of the dungeon. But he felt it—a quiet sense that he was stepping into something far greater than simple forging or classroom exercises.
Tomorrow, the academy would continue. New tests, new rivals, and perhaps deeper dungeons. But for now, in the quiet forest with faintly glowing shards in his pack and a talking robe at his shoulder, he felt the first real spark of his journey ignite.
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