The Grand Archive had been a feast for Arin's mind, but as the arcane lights dimmed to a final, deep amber, signaling closing time, he felt a different kind of hunger. His intellect was sated, buzzing with concepts and data, but his body craved motion, craving to test the new pathways his soul had opened. He moved through the now quiet aisles, the cataloging spirits occasionally zipping past with soft chimes, his steps light. The sheer volume of knowledge he'd absorbed was dizzying, yet his Mind Vault held it all with perfect, effortless clarity, ready for retrieval.
He walked back to his dorm, the city lights painting glowing lines across the sky. He bypassed the common room, where a few students were still excitedly rehashing their Awakenings, their boasts echoing in the otherwise peaceful evening. His path was his own, and it demanded solitude for now.
Cale was already asleep when Arin slipped into their room. His friend's steady breathing was a comforting rhythm in the quiet space. Arin changed into simple, dark training clothes. He felt a different kind of mana pulse now, not the passive flow of the city, but the nascent energy within his own body, waiting for his command.
He needed to test them. Right now.
The Academy's main training grounds, typically a hive of activity during the day, were deserted at this hour. Under the cold, watchful gaze of the twin moons, the sprawling expanse of reinforced mana-weave mats, holographic projection pylons, and elemental obstacle courses lay still. A fine mist, condensed from the evening air, coated the surfaces, reflecting the distant, ethereal glow of Ark Fortress.
Arin took a deep breath, the chill night air biting at his lungs. This was it. No books, no theories, just raw application.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the mental interface of his Skill Crafter. His awareness turned inward, feeling the newly etched pathways for his first skill.
"Silent Steps," he whispered, the active phrase echoing only in his mind.
A subtle warmth bloomed in his feet, spreading upwards, not like a physical sensation, but a nuanced shift in his mana flow. He took a step. The soft crunch of his boot on the mana-weave mat, which should have been audible in the silence, was… gone. He took another. Nothing. No sound. It was uncanny, almost disorienting, to move and hear nothing of his own passage. The skill muted his footsteps entirely, not by dampening sound waves, but by subtly altering his interaction with the ground, a miniature, localized void of impact.
He began to walk, slowly at first, then picking up pace, moving across the vast training ground. With every five steps, he felt a faint, almost imperceptible surge of mana from his core, and a corresponding shift in his awareness. He checked the Skill Crafter interface:
Silent Steps (A-Rank) – Active
Mana Cost: 50 mana per stack Stealth Stacks: 1% increase per stack. Current Stacks: 2 (100 mana consumed)
He continued, pushing himself faster, observing the mental readout.
Current Stacks: 5 (250 mana consumed) Current Stacks: 10 (500 mana consumed)
The feeling was subtle but distinct. As the stacks accumulated, it wasn't just his footsteps that vanished; his entire presence seemed to dim, his outline blurring slightly at the edges of his own perception. It was as if he was becoming less there. He realized the true potential of the skill: it wasn't just about sound, but about reducing his overall detectability. He imagined approaching a sentry, fading into the background, becoming just another ripple in the mana, rather than a solid presence.
He pushed for maximum stacks, wanting to see the limit.
Current Stacks: 20 (1000 mana consumed) - Mana Alert: Low
He stopped, the silence of his sudden halt almost shocking. He hadn't felt the exhaustion until he paused, but the steady drain of mana for those twenty stacks had eaten a significant portion of his meager pool. He deactivated the skill. The phantom sensation of his feet on the ground returned, and he could hear his own breathing, sharp and clear in the night. The cooldown timer for Silent Steps appeared on his interface: 5 minutes.
"Effective," Arin murmured to himself. "But the mana cost for high stealth stacks is a limiting factor for now. Needs a larger mana pool, or more efficient mana channeling." The Mind Vault was already analyzing the mana consumption patterns, suggesting optimizations and alternative energy sources.
Next, Mind Map. This was the real test of his ability to perceive and process environmental data.
"Perceive," he articulated, focusing on the second skill.
A cool, expansive sensation spread from his mind, not an outward burst, but an inward blossoming. The physical world around him shimmered for a moment, overlaid with a translucent, three-dimensional grid. It wasn't visual, not truly; it was a mental construct, a perfectly rendered spatial awareness. Within this mental map, he could see the precise dimensions of the training ground, the individual mana-weave threads of the mats, the exact location of the projection pylons, and even the subtle, shifting air currents.
He activated the holographic projection pylons, flooding the training ground with simulated targets: lumbering Armor Demons, agile Shadow Figures, and a few smaller, scurrying beasts from the Archive's bestiary. The illusions shimmered into existence, vibrant and lifelike.
Through Mind Map, Arin didn't just see them. He saw their mana signatures, distinct auras that pulsed with their simulated power. He saw the projected pathways of their movements before they even made them, the faint, almost imperceptible mana disturbances that betrayed their approach. The simulated Shadow Figures, normally difficult to track, appeared as faint, shifting blurs of mana, their attempts at stealth rendered transparent by his new vision.
He began to move, navigating the projected obstacles, weaving through the simulated enemies. His steps were fluid, precise. He could anticipate the simulated demon's charge before its animation fully committed, sidestepping with ease. He could "see" the concealed ambush points the pylons were programmed for, spots that would have caught a normal Awakener by surprise.
He moved for several minutes, the mana drain a steady hum in the background. His mana pool was small, a mere trickle compared to the rivers of S-Rank Awakeners, but he was using it with surgical precision. The Mind Map updated constantly, a living, breathing blueprint of his surroundings. He could feel the slight shudder of the ground as a heavy illusionary beast "walked" nearby, the faint energy displacement of a rapidly moving figures.
Mind Map (A-Rank) – Active
Mana Cost: 50 mana to activate, 20 mana every 10 seconds while active. Current Mana Drain: Consistent.
After what felt like a lifetime but was only about five minutes, his mana pool warned him again. He deactivated Mind Map. The world snapped back to its raw, unaugmented state, and the training ground felt suddenly dull, muted. He could still see the illusions, but the rich, detailed layer of mana information was gone.
He sat down on the cool mana-weave mat, exhilarated but physically and mentally drained. His two initial skills, born from pure conceptualization, worked. They were powerful. They were him. Rei had his Light Knight strength, Kaela her Guardian fortitude, and Sean Frost his devastating Glacial Lord abilities. But Arin had something fundamentally different. He was not limited by an inherited element or a fixed class. He was the architect of his own arsenal. He was adaptability incarnate.
The thirty days loomed, a monstrous challenge. He needed to push his mana capacity, refine his skills, and conceptualize more, much more. Stealth and awareness were a foundation, but they wouldn't defeat hordes alone. He needed offensive capabilities, defensive maneuvers, utility skills – all to be designed, crafted, and integrated.
He looked up at the twin moons, a grim, determined glint in his indigo eyes. He wouldn't just study in the Archive; he would forge himself in the crucible of knowledge and practice. This was the true beginning. And he was ready.