The first soul gem was positioned near the surface of her spiritual chest. It was a bright, flawless, pure white crystal. It pulsed with a rapid, energetic frequency, radiating the soft, expansive nature of Cotton Magic. It was highly active, constantly humming and vibrating, clearly the attribute she relied on consciously for her everyday life, her cooking, and her combat.
But sitting much deeper within her soul, anchored to the very center of her spiritual mass, was the second gem.
It was massive. It was easily three times the size of the white cotton gem. It was a deep, earthy amber color, resembling hardened honey or fossilized tree resin. This was the gem representing her dwarven heritage, her Meal Magic.
Despite its overwhelming size, the amber gem was incredibly dim. It barely gave off any light at all in the silver mist. It pulsed with a slow, agonizingly sluggish rhythm, like a hibernating bear drawing a breath once every minute. It was completely dormant, locked away behind a genetic and mental barrier that she clearly didn't know how to breach consciously.
Lencar floated there, taking in the full scope of her existence. He understood her nature so much better now. The sheer, absurd volume of mana she possessed in the physical world wasn't coming from the active Cotton gem. The Cotton gem was just the faucet. The massive, dim amber gem of Meal Magic was the reservoir. Because it was dormant, the energy leaked out passively, fueling her bottomless appetite and giving her the ridiculous mana capacity that defined her presence in the Black Bulls.
When he had chopped her neck, he hadn't just knocked her out; he had forced that massive amber gem back into hibernation before it could fully awaken and overwrite her human consciousness.
He didn't really want to waste too much time here. The longer his soul remained detached from his body, the more vulnerable his physical form was in the ruined tower, even with the illusion in place. The capital was still an active war zone.
Lencar raised his right spectral hand, extending his fingers toward the sleeping girl's soul. He unleashed the full, crushing gravitational force of his own spirit, locking onto the binary system within her chest.
He pulled.
Because she was unconscious and the amber gem was dormant, there was very little active resistance. The white cotton gem popped out of her spectral chest easily, flying straight into Lencar's waiting palm.
The massive amber gem, however, required significant effort. It was incredibly heavy, anchored deep within her dwarven genetics and tied directly to her physical vitality. Lencar gritted his spectral teeth, increasing the output of his soul power. He envisioned pulling a massive, sunken boulder out of deep, thick mud.
Slowly, agonizingly, the dim amber crystal tore free from the center of her spirit.
It drifted through the silver mist, joining the bright white gem in Lencar's grasp. As the two crystals touched his spectral flesh, they melted inward, sinking directly into his soul.
The dual integration hit him like a physical blow. The soft, expansive, highly versatile knowledge of Cotton Magic flooded his mind, immediately followed by the dense, ancient, conceptually profound understanding of Meal Magic—the ability to consume other magical attributes and convert them directly into raw physical and magical energy.
It was an incredible, meta-level acquisition. Meal Magic paired with his Absolute Replication would create an exponential feedback loop of power gathering, allowing him to endlessly fuel his massive spells by consuming the magic of his enemies.
With the harvest complete, Lencar severed the connection to the Soul Realm.
The silver mist collapsed, and he snapped back to reality.
Lencar opened his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath behind his wooden mask. He staggered slightly, resting his hand on his knee to steady himself. Integrating two completely distinct attributes at the exact same time was a monumental strain on his nervous system. His head throbbed with a dull, echoing ache.
He let out a long sigh of relief. It was done. The risk had paid off, and the disaster of her awakening had been averted.
He looked down at Charmy. She was still fast asleep, completely unaware that the very foundation of her magic had just been copied at the source code level.
Lencar picked her up gently by the shoulders and adjusted her posture, ensuring she was resting comfortably on the center of the massive, fluffy cotton bed.
Now, he needed to replace the grimoire he had absorbed.
Lencar opened his heavy brown grimoire, the pages flipping rapidly until they reached the back. He grabbed a blank sheet of heavy parchment and tore it out with a swift, practiced motion.
He held the blank page over the sleeping girl.
Replication Magic: Reverse Replication.
He channeled a fraction of the newly acquired Cotton Magic back into the blank parchment of his grimoire, ensuring it perfectly matched the specific mana frequency of Charmy Pappitson. The blank page glowed with a soft white light, rapidly multiplying and folding in on itself. A thick, slightly worn cover materialized around the pages, completing the process in a matter of seconds.
Lencar held the flawless physical replica of Charmy's grimoire. He knelt down and placed it carefully on the cotton cushion, right next to her small, relaxed hand.
He stood back up, adjusting his heavy black cloak.
Before leaving, he expanded his sensory magic outward, checking the immediate perimeter to ensure the illusion was holding and no new threats were approaching the tower.
His awareness swept through the ruined dining hall and into the adjoining royal kitchens.
He paused, blinking in surprise behind his mask.
The terrified royal chefs, who had been cowering in fear just minutes ago, were now actively moving around the kitchen with frantic, desperate energy. The illusion he had cast to calm them down and erase his presence had worked almost too well. Convinced that the terrifying masked monster had never existed and that the little girl was just sleeping off a massive tantrum, the chefs had returned to their primary, deeply ingrained directive.
They were furiously preparing food for her.
Lencar could smell the rich aroma of roasting pork, boiling stews, and baking bread wafting through the broken walls. The chefs were terrified of her waking up hungry and throwing another violent fit, so they were proactively creating a massive, absurd feast to appease their saviour when she eventually opened her eyes.
Lencar looked from the busy kitchens back to the peacefully snoring, drooling form of Charmy Pappitson lying on the cotton bed.
He slowly shook his head, a genuine, bewildered chuckle escaping him despite the severity of the night's events. The girl was an absolute anomaly in every sense of the word. She had survived an invasion, battered a veteran witch, nearly awakened an ancient, destructive bloodline, and now she was getting a royal feast prepared for her by the King's own staff while she napped.
There was nothing more for him to do here. He had secured the assets, neutralized the witch, and eliminated the immediate variables.
Lencar turned away from the cotton bed, his mind shifting back to the broader tactical situation. The Golden Dawn prodigy was still lying unconscious in an abandoned cellar, completely vulnerable to any stray magic or wandering enemies.
Lencar raised his right hand, extending his fingers and channeling his spatial magic one final time for the hour.
A dark purple vortex tore open the fabric of the ruined dining hall. Lencar stepped into the void, the portal snapping shut behind him, leaving the sleeping girl and her terrified, dedicated chefs to enjoy the rest of the chaotic festival day in absolute peace.