Lilia woke slowly, awareness returning in dull layers.
The first thing she noticed was the ache in her back.
She groaned softly and shifted on the chairs, She pushed herself upright and stretched as much as the cramped space allowed, wincing as the stiffness refused to fully fade.
Still, she was rested.
As she sat there, rubbing at her lower back, her thoughts drifted back to the problem she had tried to ignore the night before resources. her water mana consumption was low. One crystal lasted longer than she'd expected. she was only using them for drinking water after all, Fire, however, was another matter entirely.
she was burning through Fire mana stones fast.
Between light, hunting, and deterrence, her consumption was far higher than it should be. Even if the armory held a generous supply, it wasn't infinite. Relying on them long-term was reckless.
She needed an alternative.
Preferably one that didn't require elemental magic but rather mana from her core that can be replenished easily.
The thought had barely finished forming when a sharp sensation rippled through her head.
Lilia froze.
It was some sort of pressure, a subtle internal pull, as if something had shifted just out of sight. Her gaze snapped to the tome resting on the nearby desk.
The book was… different.
She approached slowly and opened it. Where before the pages beyond the basics had felt sealed, unreadable, now several of them lay open to her understanding. The invisible veil had thinned—peeled back just enough to allow meaning through.
Her breath caught.
Advanced Magic: Darkness
Her heart began to race as she read.
advanced magic use mana that did not exist naturally within a mana core. It required not an elemental affinity, nor something one was born with. Instead, it required the deliberate transformation of pure mana into dark mana—a process that took time. Two or three seconds, according to the text. Long enough to matter.
Not ideal for close combat.
But the advantages were undeniable.
at least for her, because her mana core only had pure mana using basic magic is impossible for her without mana stones.
Darkness magic consumed pure mana directly from the core, bypassing the need for mana stones entirely. It was efficient. Controlled. And—most importantly—it was listed as lethal to specters, because it can drain there mana until they dissipates.
Her grip tightened on the page.
This solved everything.
Too neatly.
This felt like too much of a coincidence. The veil hadn't weakened randomly—it had done so at the exact moment she needed a solution. mana conservation. and a solution for specters .
It felt less like coincidence and more intentional.
As if the book had a will of its own.
The thought sent a chill down her spine. A book with a will was not something she was prepared to deal with.
For now, she pushed the concern aside.
She can't do anything about it currently.
She read on.
The process was precise. Pure mana had to be shaped, compressed, and then altered into dark mana before release. Unlike elemental magic, advanced spells required conscious transformation first. more powerful, but slower and Less forgiving. in order for her to transform her mana to darkness mana she need to know how darkness mana feel so she have to look for a darkness enchanted magic item.
Lilia closed the tome and stood.
If darkness mana was something that had to be felt before it could be shaped, then reading alone would only take her so far. She needed a reference—something already aligned with dark mana, something stable enough to study.
The armory was the obvious place to start.
She moved through it slowly, ignoring blades and armor, focusing instead on smaller artifacts sealed behind runic locks. Most radiated familiar elemental signatures. Fire. Water. A few neutral utility items.
Her steps slowed as her gaze fixed on a small pedestal near the far wall. Resting atop it was a sphere no larger than her palm, perfectly smooth and utterly black. Light did not reflect off its surface. It simply vanished against it, as though the space it occupied refused illumination.
Lilia reached out carefully and lifted it.
The moment she touched it, the flow of mana around her shifted. It was draining her mana. The sensation made her skin prickle.
She carried the sphere to a nearby desk and searched the armory's records until she found a thin manual bound in dark leather.
Magic Disturber.
an artifact that utilized dark mana to interfere with structured magic—barriers, magic circles, sustained spell formations. Rather than overpowering such constructs, it destabilized their mana flow, forcing collapse or temporary failure.
Against simple spells, it was inefficient; such magic could be cast again almost immediately. But against complex magic—circles and barriers that required time and preparation—the Disturber was devastatingly effective.
Lilia leaned back in her chair, weighing her options.
She could attempt advanced magic.
Transforming pure mana into dark mana would take time, two or three seconds and she had never done it before. A failed attempt could waste mana or leave her exposed.
The Magic Disturber, on the other hand, was reliable. It didn't require her to transform mana , only to throw it at the target. More importantly, it could disrupt complex magic—exactly the kind she had already seen within the tower.
Her fingers closed around the black sphere.
For now, she is going to practice using her own mana.
She would study darkness magic. Understand it. Practice the transformation in controlled conditions. But when she left the tower again she would rely on the Disturber.
Decision made, Lilia gathered her notes and returned to the library, setting the sphere beside the tome.
Lilia sat alone at one of the library desks, the tome open before her and the Magic Disturber resting nearby.
She did not touch the sphere yet.
Instead, she closed her eyes.
The sensation it had given off lingered in her memory—the way mana bent inward around it.
She reached inward, toward her mana core.
Pure mana answered her call immediately.
she steadied her breathing. Change it.
She tried to shape it the way the book described, compressing it, forcing it inward instead of letting it spread. The result was immediate. The mana destabilized, slipping from her grasp and dispersing uselessly.
She exhaled sharply.
Again.
This time, she slowed down. She imagined the absence she had felt near the sphere. The way light had vanished against its surface. She guided her mana carefully, reshaping it
Two seconds passed.
Three.
Her brow furrowed as sweat beaded at her temples.
Then—
Something changed.
The mana in her grasp felt heavier.
Lilia's eyes snapped open as the spell collapsed in her hand, leaving behind nothing but a faint chill and a sharp ache behind her eyes.
She leaned back in her chair, breathing hard.
It had worked.
Briefly.
She rested, then tried again.
The second attempt failed faster than the first.
The third lasted longer.
By the fifth attempt, her hands were shaking. Darkness mana demanded focus in a way elemental magic never would. There was no natural flow to rely on, no instinctive correction.
Finally, on her eighth attempt, she succeeded.
A small sphere formed above her palm—no larger than her fist. It was not perfectly black like the Disturber, but dim, light bending subtly around it. The air near it felt thin, strained.
A Dark Bullet.
Lilia stared at it in stunned silence.
The sphere quietly draining the mana it contained back into nothingness. When she released her focus, it vanished without sound.
Her lips curved upward despite herself.
She had finally done it.
She closed the tome gently and glanced toward the spiral staircase.
Before testing this on specters, there was something else she needed to try.
the seal on the third floor.
She retrieved the Magic Disturber and ascended the spiral staircase, the air growing heavier with every turn. The sealed door awaited her at the top, unchanged—dark metal fused seamlessly into the tower's core, runes dormant but oppressive.
She took a steadying breath and activated the Disturber.
The black sphere drank mana greedily, its surface darkening further as it resonated with power. Lilia hurled it forward, aiming for the center of the seal.
The moment it made contact—
The sphere shattered.
Fragments of fractured enchantment scattered across the floor, the dark mana collapsing instantly under overwhelming resistance. The seal itself did not so much as flicker.
Lilia staggered back, heart pounding.
The door remained untouched.
She stared at the broken remnants of the Magic Disturber in disbelief.
Swallowing hard, she stepped back from the door.
Whatever sealed it was far beyond anything she could affect right now.
Lilia turned away from the door and descended the spiral staircase, her thoughts racing.
The Disturber was gone.
But she still had darkness magic.
With the hunts becoming routine and the fog no longer an immediate threat, Lilia finally allowed herself to slow down.
She returned to the armory and sat near the edge of the large magic circle, several books stacked beside her. Unlike before, she wasn't studying out of desperation, but out of intent.
Understanding.
As she read deeper, the theory behind magic circles finally began to click.
Magic, at its core, was a mental process. Casting even a simple spell required shaping mana, maintaining structure, and releasing it at the right moment. But when multiple elements or layered effects were involved, the strain multiplied rapidly.
Using two elements at the same time wasn't simply harder—it required multiple minds.
Magic circles existed to solve that problem.
They were an automation process, a way to offload the mental pressure of complex magic. The comparison in one of the books resonated with her immediately: solving an equation mentally versus writing it down. The result was the same, but the burden on the mind was vastly different.
magical circles are just another way of utilizing mana.
There were two primary types.
The first were offensive magic circles: automated spells etched into reality. Once supplied with the correct type of mana, they would activate and continue functioning without further mental input. Some were designed to draw mana continuously, others stored mana beforehand and released it upon meeting a trigger condition.
Supply-type circles were often used by untrained mages, allowing them to wield magic they could never cast themselves.
Trigger-type circles, on the other hand, were far more dangerous.
They were the foundation of traps.
And summoning.
Summoning circles were drawn using magic ink infused with space mana, allowing the circle to connect to other layers of existence. Depending on the configuration, the connection could reach the spiritual world to summon spirits, the demon worlds to summon demons, or the heavens to summon angels.
The same principles could even be applied locally—summoning monsters from within the same world.
Though those required an additional component.
A soul spell.
One imbued into the circle to damage the summoned creature's astral body, breaking its will and forcing obedience.it consume less mana because of the difference in distance.
Lilia's fingers paused on the page as she reached the final note.
Summoning humanoid races was impossible.
According to the records, an eastern Tower Lord that specialized in space magic from over a millennium ago had placed a magic seal across the entire world—one so vast and absolute that it prevented humanoids from ever being summoned again.
No exceptions.
No workarounds.
Even now, the seal held.
Lilia leaned back slowly, exhaling.
Magic circles weren't shortcuts. They were frameworks—ways to stretch what magic could do without breaking the caster's mind. And the circle in the armory was far too refined to be something simple.
She looked down at the etched lines again, tracing their paths with her eyes, committing them to memory.
Lilia knelt beside the armory's magic circle and let her senses sink into it.
At first, nothing made sense.
The mana flow was unreadable—no rhythm, structure, or elemental alignment she could recognize. The lines etched into the floor looked precise, but when she tried to follow their logic, they dissolved into nonsense. Cause without effect. Triggers without purpose.
It was wrong.
Frowning, she pulled one of the books closer and cross-referenced the patterns. The realization came slowly, then all at once.
it wasn't a malfunction.
but was a decoy.
The book confirmed it soon after. Certain high-tier formations were deliberately layered with sealing constructs—false mana signatures and meaningless glyphs meant to hide the true nature of the circle beneath. The seal didn't just obscure function; it erased intent. To any observer, the circle would appear inert, broken, or unfinished.
The real structure was hidden underneath.
Lilia swallowed.
Breaking something this advanced outright would be suicidal. She had already learned what happened when she tried to force her way through power far beyond her rank.
So she chose a different approach.
Rather than attacking the circle itself, she focused on the seal.
Dark magic was perfect for this. If she was careful, she could bleed the seal dry without disturbing the formation beneath it.
Slowly, deliberately, she shaped pure mana and transformed it into darkness. The familiar resistance followed. She let the dark mana seep outward, thin and controlled, brushing against the seal like a tide wearing down stone.
The reaction was subtle.
The false mana signature faded first. Then the meaningless glyphs began to lose cohesion, their lines unraveling as if erased by an unseen hand. Beneath them, something else emerged.
The real circle.
Lilia's breath caught.
It was a summoning magic circle.
A spirit summoning—and more precisely, a darkness spirit.
She scanned the texts quickly, piecing it together.
Angel summoning was monopolized by the Church, restricted to saints and their sanctioned rituals. Demon summoning was a taboo—detected the moment it activated, its foreign mana leaking into the world like a wound. Demons were invaders from another world, and their presence could be sensed by Church devices anywhere on the continent.
Spirit summoning was different.
it had two requirements.
the spirit approval of the request.
and The summoner had to match the spirit's element.
Lilia looked down at the circle again.
Dark element.
Her chest tightened.
This wasn't meant for just anyone.
The realization settled heavily: this circle had almost certainly been created by her previous self.
Carefully, she placed her hands near the edge of the formation and began feeding it mana—pure mana, transformed into darkness as steadily as she could manage. She didn't overextend. She gave it only what she could afford to lose.
The circle responded immediately.
Runes ignited, lines flooding with light so deep it seemed to swallow the glow itself. The air grew still, heavy, as though the world was holding its breath.
Then
The center of the circle rippled.
From the darkness, something small emerged.
A kitten.
Jet black, no larger than her forearm, its fur drinking in light just like the circle had. When it looked up at her, its eyes gleamed—sharp, focused, unmistakably intelligent, and it widened in recognition and worry.
The kitten sat, tail curling neatly around its paws, and met her gaze.
A spirit.
her darkness spirit.
Lilia exhaled shakily.
Whatever she had just done, there was no taking it back now.