Edwyn sat cross-legged on his rune-warmed bed, his Apprentice Mage Robe shimmering with Purification runes, a fist-sized chunk of Sunstone in his hand. Its orange surface thrummed with latent mana, warm as a living ember. The Infinite Forge hummed in his soul, ready to flex its material-refining muscle for the first time.
"Haha, just as I thought," Edwyn said. "No synthesis, just impurity-slaying? The Forge is gonna eat this up."
Red Quicksilver was no joke, volatile as nitroglycerin, one wrong move could turn his room into a crater.
"Hold up," he muttered, his grin wry. "This stuff's got a temper. Gotta grab a bottle to keep it chill." He dashed to the Commercial Zone. At a trinket stall, he snagged a brown glass bottle, its opaque surface perfect for taming Quicksilver's volatility. "Five Academy Coins? Steal of the century," he said, tossing the vendor a wink and striding back to his dorm.
Back in his room, Edwyn held the Sunstone, its warmth pulsing against his palm.
"Showtime, Forge," he said, selecting Begin Extraction. Mana surged from his core, two-thirds of his 162 units draining into the Infinite Forge's unseen void, each Spiritforce point equaling ten Mana. The Sunstone vanished from his hand, reappearing in the Forge's metaphysical fire. It shrank, impurities burning away, and in seconds, a glowing red liquid with a molten metallic sheen floated before him, encased in a shimmering mana field. Edwyn's grin widened as he guided it into the brown bottle with a flick of his wrist, the Quicksilver settling with a faint hum.
"Smooth as silk," he said, sealing the bottle.
He pulled out a balance scale, its brass glinting in the luminweed's glow, and weighed the yield: 50 grams from one kilogram of Sunstone.
"Wait, what?" he said, his eyebrow twitching. "Fifty grams on the dot? Did Agnes's golem scam me?" But a quick mental calculation, thanks to the Forge's zero-waste precision, confirmed it was legit. Normal Apprentices would lose half their yield to sloppy refining, but the Forge was a cheat code.
"Guess I'm just that good," he said. "Task done, 100 Mana Stones in the bag. Even if Joron's a no-go, that's a sweet payday."
Edwyn settled into a routine, his life a triangle of the Central Black Tower's lecture halls, the library's towering shelves, and his dorm's quiet refuge. He joined Elia for meals in the Residential Zone's bustling dining hall, its tables laden with mana-infused bread and stews, or browsed the Commercial Zone's stalls with her, dodging her shopping sprees with a grin.
"Goldilocks, you're gonna bankrupt us both," he'd tease, sidestepping her pleas to buy glowing trinkets. But he kept the Quicksilver task under wraps. His experiments with leftover Sunstone showed it'd take a month for an average Apprentice to extract 50 grams, double if they botched it.
"A tall tree catches the wind," he muttered, recalling a proverb from Earth. The Forge was his secret weapon, and flaunting it too soon could paint a target on his back. He'd wait three months before turning it in, playing it safe.
His real focus was Bloodline Alchemy, the Black Knight formula extracted from the ciphered notebook. Unlike spell inscriptions, runes for quick-casting Lesser Fireball or Ice Spike, bloodline rituals boosted raw physical power, perfect for a scrappy fighter like him. The Black Knight's first stage required a Black Iron Beast's bloodline, a low-level Arcane Beast whose claws and scales were common enough. Saban's beastly transformation, golden fur, superhuman strength, proved bloodline power was no myth.
"That furry freak was a walking alchemy lab," Edwyn said, grinning at Saban's bracers.
Three months later, Edwyn stood in the Apprentice Self-Test Chamber, a sterile dome on the Laboratory Zone's edge, its walls pulsing with diagnostic runes. He pressed his orb to a crystal ball, its surface flaring with data:
[Spiritforce: 16.2 | Physique: 10 | Mana: 162 | Rank: Initiate]
"Not bad, hotshot," he said, his grin fierce. Three months of Elementary Meditation Grimoire sessions had pushed his Spiritforce from 15 to 16.2, a steady climb toward the 20 needed for Elementary Apprentice status.
"One point every three months? I'll hit the mark in a year, easy. Faster if I snag an intermediate meditation method."
His physique score, 10, squire-level, raised an eyebrow.
"Knight stats without lifting a finger? Damn, I'm a natural," he said, flexing with a theatrical pose. Academy records pegged squires at 10-15, full knights at 15, and high-ranking knights above 20. Elia's identical score ruled out a secret bloodline, hinting the Academy's mana-rich food or environment was juicing them up.
"Gotta thank those glowy plants," he muttered, striding out.
The Commercial Zone's street market was a chaotic sprawl, Apprentice-run stalls crammed with oddities, cracked beast cores, half-charged scrolls, herbs that sparked when touched. The air buzzed with haggling, the scent of roasted mana-fruit mingling with forge smoke. Edwyn, in his sleek robe, browsed with a predator's eye, hunting Black Iron Beast parts. A glint caught his attention: a claw, its black scales chipped but mana-rich, at a rickety stall manned by a shifty-eyed Apprentice.
"Yo, buddy, what's the deal with this claw?" Edwyn said, squatting down, his grin sly as he pointed at the claw, its surface dull but pulsing faintly.
The stall owner glanced at Edwyn, new Mage robe, youthful face. Clearly a fresh student. Time to make a killing.
"Five hundred Academy Coins," he said, his voice oily. "Prime Black Iron Beast claw, fresh from the arena."
Edwyn chuckled.
"Five Mana Stones for that? It's half-busted, missing scales like it got chewed up by a dragon! Two hundred, tops."
"Two hundred?" The vendor's eyes bulged. He was looking to scam a newbie, not get scammed himself. "You kidding? Killing a Black Iron Beast is no joke! Four Mana Stones, firm."
"Four? Why not rob the Chancellor while you're at it?" Edwyn shot back, pointing at the claw's flaws. "This thing's one step from garbage. Two-fifty, or I'm walking."
"Three-fifty, final offer!" the vendor snapped, sweating.
"Three hundred, or I'm hitting the next stall," Edwyn said, standing with a dramatic flourish, his robe billowing.
The vendor gritted his teeth, his face a mask of pain. "Fine, three hundred. Take it." He'd been stuck with the claw for days, its value fading as rot loomed.
Edwyn's grin was triumphant as he dropped three Mana Stones, snagging the claw with a twirl. "Pleasure doing business, pal," he said, striding off with flair. The claw's condition didn't matter, Bloodline Alchemy needed its essence, not its polish. "First stage of Black Knight, here I come," he said, his eyes gleaming with ambition.