The spike had been perfect.
Not impressive for a beginner. Not admirable for someone with raw, unstable channels. Simply perfect. A crystalline drill of Earth Mana, shaped to the Compendium's script down to its final grain of structure, struck the training dummy with such ruthless precision that the wood didn't just break; it surrendered, splintering along lines that felt pre-planned.
Kael's curiosity whispered for variation. What would the spike look like with Fire? With Water? With the distorted edging of Shadow? He smothered the urge. With Kellen's gaze glued to him and Lyon's inevitable suspicion somewhere behind it, revealing too much would be idiotic.
And right now, the most dangerous eyes on him weren't watching with malice, but with sharp, unfiltered curiosity.
Magus Valia.
He had been ready to leave the moment class ended, but Valia had asked him to remain. As students filed out, loud, excited, comparing their mediocre attempts, Kael caught Kyle's glare. The girl beside him, he still didn't know her name, looked at Kael as though she'd happily set him on fire.
I keep making enemies. I still don't know why I snapped when he hit me, but the past is fixed, and Dean's loyalty outweighs anything his cousins think of me.
At least the day hadn't been a total loss. Sixty-four Compendium Points. Respectable. But he needed more, much more. The library beckoned like a silent promise. Books filled with runic theory, archaic formations, obscure constructs... if he fed the Compendium enough knowledge, it would refine him further. Faster. Cleaner.
A cold satisfaction curled through him at the thought, a machine being tuned. The faint ache where his human empathy used to sit pulsed once and was gone.
The path from the practice yard, usually teeming with students, was now oddly clear. Valia waited where cobblestone met the main campus walkway. Mana threaded off her in quiet streams, feeding the classroom formations behind them. Dummies mended themselves, splinters rising into neat piles before dissolving in cleansing light.
Part of Kael wanted to study the process, trace every line of mana, but even imagining channelling anything made his raw conduits throb in memory.
Valia dismissed two lingering students with a polite, completely non-negotiable flick of her hand.
"Mr. Voss," she said gently, softer than her typical clipped tone. "I'd like to ask you something directly. Please answer honestly. When you cast, are you seeing mana? Its structure? Its shape?" Her eyes sharpened. "I don't care which aspect you've unlocked. What interests me is the possibility. If you can truly perceive magic, you could advance the entire field of arcane studies by decades."
Kael hadn't expected such blunt transparency. He used to pry at people slowly, peel intentions back layer by layer. Valia had no appetite for games.
He must be very careful. A Magus with this level of interest was not a mentor; she was a collector. If she deemed his ability unique enough, she could have him classified as a research subject, stripping him of the tenuous freedom Dean's protection provided.
He respected her directness, even if he couldn't afford to give her anything useful.
"I'm not sure what you mean, Magus," Kael replied, voice flat, deferential, empty.
Valia stepped closer, unconsciously entering his space. Her gaze wasn't on his face, it was on his hands, as though she could still see the echo of the spike forming there.
Her focus sharpened, tracing the minute tension in his fingers as though they were glyphs waiting to be decoded.
"I saw it. Your eyes glowed, and you perceived the magic when I cast Ice Arrow," she said. "Even prodigies don't channel with that level of structural fidelity. So, I'll ask again, what did you perceive?"
Kael held her gaze. "What would that knowledge be worth to you?"
Her brows lifted, a small, delighted reaction she didn't bother to hide. "So, you can perceive something. And you require payment."
Kael didn't confirm or deny it. The silence coiled between them, a waiting trap.
Valia clasped her hands behind her back. Her robes whispered with the movement. "Very well. I believe in equal exchange. I require your unique insight; you require power. State the highest price you can justify."
He blinked once. "Knowledge for knowledge. I want to study the underlying principles of magic."
A slow, calculating smile touched her lips. "A sound direction. Let's begin with the basics. How much structure can you see?"
"If I answer that, I want something concrete in return," Kael said calmly.
Her eyes narrowed, not with suspicion, but calculation. "And what is your price, Mr. Voss?"
"All the high-level runes you have available," he said without hesitation. "I want access to the entirety of your personal runic library."
Valia studied him for a long moment, too long. Kael didn't move.
"That's an ambitious request," she said finally, her voice dry. "I will not grant it. Some runes are forbidden. Some are rank-gated. If I gave you certain runes, they would harm you more than help you." She tilted her head, her authority softening just slightly. "But I can give you something better. I can teach you the methodology to search for new runes specific to your aspect. You will find that very few runes are shared among mages, and only a handful are publicly accessible."
Kael had known his first ask would be denied. The Compendium calculated this counteroffer was favourable, nearly achieving 70% of the initial value.
"Then I want the method to discover new runes," Kael said, "and twenty of the runes you personally deem safe. I believe having seen more structural templates will help me understand them better."
No passion in his voice. No eagerness. Just clean, clinical intent.
Valia's expression cooled. Not offended, intrigued. Worse.
"You negotiate well for an orphan, Mr. Voss. Twenty runes and my personal methodology for less than twenty minutes of work." She considered it. "I will give you twenty runes and the method to discover new runes. Take it or leave it."
Kael accepted the deal, but his outward demeanour remained reluctant, forcing Valia to close the gap. "What exactly do you require in return? Twenty runes are a substantial investment for a mere observation."
"It will only take ten to twenty minutes of your time," Valia said, a flash of genuine need in her eyes. "I want you to examine an artifact and see if you can extract the rune responsible for its effect. It is an ancient piece of dungeon loot whose core effect is fading, and we suspect the original rune cannot be recreated without true structural perception. That is all. The same transaction can be repeated for any future tasks."
Kael was inwardly fascinated. This would benefit him far more than her, as she did not know about the Compendium's appetite for knowledge. But he held the reluctant expression.
A faint thread of irritation flickered across Valia's features. "I don't like to play games, Mr. Voss. But you seem fond of them."
He didn't change his expression. "I accept."
Valia's posture eased. She stepped closer, intent clear. "Excellent. Let's begin immediately."
"No." Kael cut her off gently. "My mana channels are still raw. I should not infuse or manipulate mana right now."
Her expression softened. Apologetic. "I forgot, you only have one gate opened. Very well. We will continue after the dungeon excursion." She paused, then added with a faint, wry sigh: "Please don't die."
Minor Siphon Runology was located in one of the quietest, least visited wings of the academy, fitting, Kael thought, for a class so many considered beneath them.
The moment he entered, the difference was obvious. No grand formations. No humming spell pillars. No mana-forged stone.
Just plain desks, shelves crowded with mundane instruments, and rows of simple crystal lamps, most flickering inconsistently, as if embarrassed to be functioning at all.
A handful of students were already seated, their expressions ranging from resigned to awkward. Most wore simple robes, the kind first-years bought when they didn't have a House or lineage worth flaunting.
Kael took a seat near the back. He heard the faint whispers, condensed into a single thought: Rank A. Why here? Waste of time. He catalogued the information and dismissed it.
He had checked the curriculum carefully. This was the only class teaching siphoning arrays, which made it the only class worth attending. He intended to find out why siphon runes weren't used in major arrays.
The door creaked open.
An old man, the first truly elderly instructor Kael had seen in the academy, shuffled into the room. He cleared his throat, the sound gravelly and worn.
"I am called Orin," he said. "I am no Magus, so please don't call me one."
His robe was plain grey, patched and blotched with ink stains, fabric soft with years of use.
Orin scanned the classroom. His gaze landed on Kael.
"Mr. Voss," he said, voice tightening, "I don't believe you are suitable for this class."
Kael noted the underlying fear, not of him, but of the scrutiny his presence might bring. It was an interesting data point on the class's political standing.
He kept his tone polite. "Sir, I am interested in siphoning arrays. This is the only class that teaches how to build them."
Orin seemed skeptical, but after a moment he nodded. "If you ever wish to change your elective, I can sign the transfer form."
Before Kael could respond, a thin, squeaky voice from the back cut through the room. "Sir, why aren't you a Magus? Every other instructor is."
Orin's expression dimmed. His voice softened. "All of you will learn the difference soon enough. A Magus is someone who has formed a mana core. An Initiate is someone who could not."
"I was born with two mana gates," Orin continued. "Not enough to gather the mana required to form a core. So, I remain an Initiate. No one can call themselves a Magus without one."
Hope drained out of the students' faces. "So... we have no future?" the squeaky girl whispered.
Orin took a steadying breath, suppressing his emotions with visible effort. "No. You have a path. It is simply different."
He straightened, voice firming. "We will learn how to build minor artifacts using siphoning arrays, items that require no mana from the user, drawing tiny amounts of ambient mana from the environment to function."
Kael leaned forward, interest sharpening. He raised a hand.
"Sir, why don't we use this array to power formations or standard spell arrays?"
Orin nodded. "Ambient mana is too weak," he said. "It cannot power anything heavy. Formations and arrays require strong, stable energy, usually from a Magus or a mana crystal."
Kael asked, "Is there a way to store the mana drawn by the siphon? Why not connect a siphon array to a storage formation, then use that to power larger structures?"
Orin shook his head. "That is impossible, Mr. Voss. That would require a three-dimensional formation, and those simply do not function. All human-crafted formations must remain two-dimensional. That is a natural limit of magical construction."
Kael noted the limit, recalling the flat diagrams in the library. His curiosity prickled. "Sir, why can't we connect multiple formations or arrays together? What limitation prevents it?"
Orin sighed. "I am not a formation specialist. But we know of four-dimensional formations in the world. The labyrinths that connect dungeons use teleportation formations far beyond anything humans can craft." He hesitated, deciding how much to reveal. "Perhaps we simply lack the knowledge."
Orin clapped his hands once, gently. "Now. Today we begin with the simplest practical tool: a mana lamp. If you work diligently, you can earn enough to live a very comfortable life."
The opposite happened. One of the boys muttered, voice trembling, "What use is money if we won't survive next week? What use is this class if we'll die before we can use any of it?"
The room darkened with despair.
Orin looked at their defeated faces, and something in his expression shifted, quiet defiance overriding the pain. "You think because you cannot form cores, you are helpless?" he said, his voice gaining an edge Kael hadn't heard before. "You're wrong. You simply fight a different kind of war."
"The strong rely on power," Orin continued. "The clever learn the enemy's weaknesses. I cannot teach you to be powerful. But I can teach you to be brilliant. I can teach you to survive where the 'powerful' would fall."
The gloom lifted, replaced by calculation. Kael watched, fascinated by this shift in data points.
"I am going to show you one of my own inventions, one my partner and I developed recently."
Orin pulled a small wooden box from a shelf. "And this," he said, "is something far more creative, engineered by Initiates, not Magi."
He opened the box.
Inside lay a set of tiny constructs, small enough to fit on a palm, made of stone fragments. Each shaped vaguely like a beetle, no larger than a thumb, engraved with micro-siphon lines.
Kael's pupils tightened.
"These are Parasitic Siphon Beetles," Orin said with a hint of pride. "Clockwork bodies. Simple moving parts. Nothing a Magus would bother with."
He picked one up, its rune-lines glinting faintly.
"When thrown onto a beast, they latch on and begin siphoning minute amounts of mana. Barely noticeable, especially to low-intelligence monsters."
He rotated the beetle, showing the underside. "They store the mana internally. Use a portion to maintain clinging force. And after accumulating enough..."
Orin snapped his fingers.
"...they deliver a paralysis jolt. Quick and clean. Enough to cripple a lesser beast or stagger a stronger one."
A few students gasped.
"They're cheap," he added. "Reusable. And horrifying in swarms, and very easy to make if you can master basic siphon arrays."
The room was silent. For the first time, the students weren't despairing, they were imagining.
Kael studied the beetle intensely. A complete, self-sustaining system. Made by Initiates. Not Magi.
Orin continued, gently placing the beetle down. "These are not weapons of strength. They are weapons of ingenuity. Tools that allow those without cores, those without prestige, to survive. To carve out a future."
Kael felt the Compendium hum in quiet, analytical agreement.
The entire academy population missing this class is functionally inefficient.
Orin cleared his throat. "Well, since today's lesson has taken a turn, we'll do something practical. You'll each attempt to assemble a basic siphon construct."
He moved to a crate and began distributing materials: a circular stone carved roughly into the shape of a beetle's body, along with a pen-like stencil tool used for engraving runes.
"These stones are specially prepared," Orin said. "I will demonstrate the method. If you succeed, the first skirmish in a dungeon will not be a problem for you. I recommend you craft at least five."
A ripple of nerves moved through the room.
Orin infused mana into the stencil pen, the tip glowing faintly as he began carving. "Watch carefully."
He etched a basic circle, clean and shallow. He overlapped it with a feedback-loop array, a spiralling configuration that connected seamlessly into a mana siphon array. The lines pulsed faintly as each segment completed.
Next, he turned the stone over. "This side holds the latching array," he said. He carved the simple rune structure: three angled prongs pointing inward.
[Input Received: 3 arrays recorded: 15 CP granted.]
"Never link these without intention," he warned. "Uncontrolled interaction can have consequences."
When he finished, he infused a tiny amount of mana into the latching array and flicked the stone toward the wall.
Clack.
It stuck instantly. The stone clung there for ten minutes, unmoving, until the mana within the latch ran out and it fell harmlessly to the floor.
Orin wiped his hands, then abruptly left the class. Confused whispers rose, until he returned holding a small cage with a terrified rat inside.
"Observe," Orin said grimly.
He recharged the latching array, stepped forward, and placed the stone onto the rat's back.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the stone's color began to shift, darkening, vibrating faintly. The feedback loop activated.
And the rat detonated into a fine mist of blood and viscera.
The class recoiled with unified horror, several students gagging.
Orin shook his head, his face stark. "This rat is not a magical beast. It has only shreds of mana compared to a dungeon creature. The feedback loop was designed to stun, but with so little mana to work with, the siphon drained too quickly, and the unstable return pulse destroyed the rat instead."
Silence. Wide eyes. Sweat.
Kael did not flinch. The cold indifference was immediate and complete. The explosion was not tragedy; it was a data point.
Unrefined. Imperfect. Dangerous. But the concept is valid.
He closed his eyes and spoke inwardly: Compendium, can you make this array more efficient, as you did with Earth Spike?
A cool whisper answered.
[Query Initiated: Efficient array for mana siphon.]
[Require at least 10 different siphoning arrays and 10 feedback-loop arrays for cross-references. The more host provides, the better the optimization.]
Kael's eyelids fluttered open. So, the Compendium needs more samples.
The thought pulsed through him, sharp and certain. The library.
The library is my best chance to gather the necessary data before the dungeon excursion. I must acquire ten siphoning arrays and ten feedback loops before my appointment with Magus Valia.