Entering Lindrl’s study, Silvy noticed a glaring difference: the left wall, usually with a few paintings on display, had a blackboard covering it. Sitting on a couch and having finished breakfast, Lindrl turned to Silvy.

“Good, you are here. Take a seat, please.” She moved to the blackboard and took out a white stick from her bag, Silvy complying and sitting on a couch.

“We’ve already gone over the basics of mana and how to use it. Today, I’ll show you how spells are divided and a few basic runes. Don’t cast them, as you’d probably run out of mana in… five, six spells. Of course, feel free to interrupt me to ask questions.” Lindrl said, smiling.

“Let’s start with the elements, as many spells use them. It’s not true for all of them, but most fight-oriented ones are of elemental nature. The elements are four, as I’ve already said in the past: fire, water, earth, air. Every element has a defining shape, present in a rune of said element. Air is a waving line.” Lindrl wrote the various elements on top of the board and their respective symbol below each of them. “Water is two semicircles connecting like this, fire is a triangle and earth is a square.”

A drawing of a symbol similar to an ‘S’ was below ‘Air’, two semicircles connected like a ‘m’ was below ‘Water’ and a simple triangle and square were below, respectively, ‘Fire’ and ‘Earth’.

Silvy raised her hand. “Runes are not formed only by those, right?” she asked, already guessing the answer.

“Of course not.” Lindrl answered. “To put it simply, if the rune you are drawing is of the fire element, there will be at least one triangle in it, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the rune will be made only by triangles.”

“Are there runes with more than one element?” Silvy asked, curious.

Lindrl shook her head. “Not that we know of. That doesn’t mean you can’t create different effects with different spells, but it’s less intuitive than you might think. For example, let’s say you use a spell that creates water. If you hit said water with a fire spell, it will evaporate, creating fog. Technically, you created mist with magic, but not with a single spell, and with severe limitations.”

“If each element has a symbol… isn’t that like a letter? Is magic a language?” Silvy asked with a sudden spur of inspiration.

“That’s what most mages believe runes are.” Lindrl said, impressed by Silvy’s quick thinking. “Language of whom, we don’t know: even the gods refuse to answer. Many [Mages] have dedicated their lives to the understanding of this language and how each effect is related to a shape, but no one has ever found a logic. For example.” Lindrl turned to the blackboard, drawing two different runes side by side. “This one” she said, pointing to the one on the left, an equilateral triangle with a line pointing outward from each of the two bottom angles. “is [Flame Creation]. As the name suggests, it creates a small flame.”

She cast the spell, a small ball of flame materializing over her hand. “It doesn’t have much offensive capability, as you can’t move it around too fast nor too far, but it’s useful for shedding some light or lighting a campfire. This other one” Lindrl said, dismissing the spell and pointing at the other rune, a horizontal ‘m’ with two semicircles going up and around. “is [Water Creation]. As you probably guessed,” Lindrl cast a spell, a ball of water appearing in her hand. “it creates a ball of water. It has the same drawback of [Flame Creation], only it’s made of water instead of fire. They are extremely similar spells, both considered the most basic ones of fire and water element and both following the same rules. And yet, one has straight lines coming out of the triangle representing fire, and one has semicircles coming out of the water symbol. Their effects are the same but the shapes are different. Confusing, right?” Lindrl smiled, seeing Silvy moving her head from one rune to the other.

“That… makes no sense. Maybe each element is different? What about two fire spells?” Silvy said, fascinated by the seemingly nonsensical language.

Lindrl shook her head. “No luck there either. Of course, many runes have some common shapes, but no one has found logic to it. I have a hypothesis there, but I must explain something else first.”

“Wait,” Silvy intervened. “if it’s a language, what about speaking it?”

Lindrl raised her hands and shoulders. “No one knows how, if it’s even possible. And remember, there is no conclusive evidence that this is actually a language. Now, what’s the difference between basic, intermediate and advanced spells?” Lindrl asked with a smug smile on her face.

Silvy mused for a few seconds before answering. “Maybe the power of the spell? No, I got it! The quantity of mana consumed!”

Lindrl shook her forefinger. “Neither. The difference resides in the rune's shape. Runes with no depth, or, in other words, with only two dimensions, cast basic spells.” Lindrl explained.

Silvy tilted her head, confused. “Two dimensions? What do you mean?”

Lindrl went to the desk and retrieved a clean piece of paper, showing it to Silvy. “A piece of paper is a good example of a two-dimensional object. It’s formed, as the word says, by two dimensions: length and width. This” Lindrl slid her finger from the left to the right of the paper. “is length, and this” she slid her finger from the bottom to the top of the paper. “is width. The third dimension would be depth, but, as you can see,” she turned the paper to show the thin edge. “a piece of paper has little depth, an almost negligible amount. Basic runes follow the same principle: you draw them in the air as you’d draw them on a piece of paper, or a blackboard.” she tapped the two runes she had drawn on the blackboard.

Silvy scratched her head. “I see. And intermediate spells have this depth?”

“Exactly.” Lindrl answered. “They have depth like many things, like a human, see?” Lindrl waved left to right and top to bottom around her body. “I have length and width, but also,” Lindrl turned, showing her side to Silvy. “a depth. We draw intermediate runes the same way, with three dimensions. Every object around us is in three-dimension: the couch you are sitting on, the desk, this very room. Do you understand?”

Silvy scanned the objects in the room, taken aback by this revelation. It was such a simple truth, and yet she had never realized it. But if intermediate runes had three dimensions, and everything around her was in three dimensions… “What about advanced runes? What is after depth?” she asked, interested in the answer.

Lindrl smiled, her student's enthusiasm contagious. “Good question, sweetie. Drawing an advanced rune is a difficult endeavor, and, probably, the biggest reason mages capable of doing it are few, compared to the numbers of those able to draw intermediate ones. We cannot recreate the shape of advanced runes in the world through normal means: they have, as we call it, a fourth dimension. This dimension is usually represented in one or two ways, simultaneously or individually, depending on the rune. One is mana flowing in two or more different directions at the same time in the same place, and the other is a shift in shape depending on where you are looking them from. Understanding these phenomenons is hard and recreating them is even harder: that’s why humans have less than twenty [Archmages] capable of casting advanced spells. The effects of advanced spells are devastating, and that’s why those mages are kept at the frontier or in the port cities, or the capital.”

Recalling how she had cast an advanced spell in the slums, Silvy tried to remember the process she had used. Memory of the rune materialized in her mind as if it had always been there. The memory had been buried inside her all this time, only waiting to be recalled. Silvy dug deeper, the memory of that night coming back to her in full, together with every rune the elemental had known. Their shapes and how to cast them both at her fingertip, needing only a wand and her will. Focusing on the advanced rune, the shape began to distort, becoming incomprehensible. The mana was flowing in two directions at once, the coils were passing through each other. The sheer impossibility and incomprehensibility of the phenomenon stumped Silvy, who realized she wouldn’t be able to draw it, too difficult for her mind.

Her wits returning, Silvy realized Lindrl had been patiently waiting for her. “I… understand, maybe. But… how is that possible?” Silvy asked, overwhelmed by something beyond her comprehension.

“Training, training, and training.” Lindrl mercilessly answered. “The crucial and first step is seeing the rune with your own eyes. Another [Archmage] capable of casting an advanced spell is needed, unless you receive a revelation from a god, as it happened with the few first [Archmages], but that’s unlikely, as it has never repeated after that single instance. When the [Archmages] received the revelation, they passed that knowledge to the best [Mages] under them, taking them as personal disciples. Many failed to understand the incomprehensible, but some did, and that knowledge has passed through the ages, more and more runes discovered as time went by.”

Silvy’s eyes sparkled, the sheer magnitude of the work and care needed to pass on this knowledge generation after generation overwhelming her. “It’s incredible.” Lindrl nodded in answer, and Silvy asked another question, confused. “But why did the gods help sapients, though?”

Lindrl laughed at the ridiculousness of the question. “Dear, I’m knowledgeable, not omniscient. Only the gods themselves have the answer, and they rarely speak to mortals, and only through their [Priests]. Understanding their reasoning is a fool’s errand, given their volatile nature.”

Lindrl continued. “Going back to why we can’t understand the language of magic, if there is one to begin with, it’s because we are missing some pieces of it, or so I believe. More precisely, if there is a fourth dimension, why not a fifth? What about a sixth? How many dimensions are there, and how complex can a rune be? The few instances where a god cast a spell, the effects were beyond what an advanced spell could do, so there must be a fifth dimension at least. And that’s where the secret lies, or at least that’s what I believe: understanding the last dimension is the secret to the language of magic. Maybe what we perceive as a straight line, is not a straight line at all!” Lindrl had a longing looked in her eyes, similar to a woman reminiscing about her far-away lover. This kept going for a few seconds until Lindrl sighed and came back to herself.

“Back to our lesson. Each rune or spell has a specific effect that can be manipulated to a certain extent, for example how I could move the flame created by [Flame Creation] using only my will. Every spell has a corresponding Skill, and through that, we can strengthen its effects using more mana, upgrading it a tier or two without changing the rune, but only if you know how to cast at least a spell of the upper tier to begin with. The same cannot be said for downgrading a spell, however; no matter how you try, you’ll never be able to cast an intermediate spell using a basic rune.

Silvy had a Skill for a spell: [Mana blade]. The details of its acquisition were not clear, so she asked about it. “How do you get a Skill for a spell?”

“Once you have trained enough in a spell that you can cast it as easily as you walk, then you’ll receive a Skill. Its purpose is to make the drawing even faster and harder to disrupt, rendering that spell something like a trump card.”

Silvy tilted her head. “But I got a Skill without ever casting the spell. How is that possible?”

Lindrl’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes wide open. “Really?! I’ve never heard of it! How did that happen?! Can you give me the details?” Lindrl said, getting closer to Silvy.

Silvy leaned back, Lindrl’s face a few centimeters from her, her curiosity palpable. “Well, it happened after I had killed the acid worms in the sewers… I was using mana to shape blades without runes, killing a lot of worms with it. I received the Skill after that, for the [Mana Blade] spell.”

Lindrl stood straight again, hand on her chin, her voice a little more than a whisper. “Interesting… No matter how old I get, there’s always something new. Is that related to her intent? The leveling highly rewards impossible feats, maybe...”

Lindrl suddenly stopped, her mind making the connection a moment later, realizing something she had overlooked. Silvy was a monster… with Skills and, probably, levels. Humans believed monsters to be without levels, applying them to monster only to estimate their strength. Were they wrong? Was Silvy an exception? Tucking away this little secret for later study, she turned to Silvy again.

“You used raw mana as a weapon, right? That’s… well, apparently not impossible, but very hard for sapients. The system most likely rewarded you for this feat, giving you a spell and a Skill suitable to your needs. But I wonder… is this a new method of training?” Lindrl shook her head, denying her last question.

“No, it’d be too hard for humans. I must test this out. If it really works… Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes.” Lindrl raised her forefinger. “Remember: you can cancel the drawing of a rune at any point, but once it’s closed, the spell takes effect.”

Her face became more grave, her tone more serious. “This next part is extremely important, so pay close attention. Losing concentration while drawing a rune has consequences, sometimes harmless, sometimes deadly, always costly, depending on the tier of the spell. Basic ones are usually harmless. Depending on the rune you were trying to draw and how close you were to finish it, there will be some harmless effects taking place. If it was a fire spell, there might be some sparks; a water one could result in some water splashes, and so on. The dangerous part is the mana used. No matter how much ambient mana you were using, the rune will lose stability and use only your mana to draw itself. Regardless of how complete the rune was and if it creates some harmless effects, you'll have your mana forcibly taken from you, with the risk of draining you dry and killing you on the spot. This is a rare occurrence, as most [Mages] learning from a mages’ guild have enough mana to cast at least three basic spells before being introduced to the first rune.” she stopped for a second before continuing.

“Nevertheless, accidents happen, and there have been cases where a fool has died from a lapse in concentration when drawing a basic spell. This same rebound also happens with intermediate spells, only the mana required to create an intermediate rune is much more, and death is a very real possibility. Unfortunately, the problems don’t end there, as failing an intermediate rune will draw the rune with the closest shape and cast the associated spell. Centered on the caster and highly unstable; to be clear, a fire spell usually results in an explosion. You are not even sure what will happen, as the rune formed could differ completely from what you had in mind, especially if you had just started when you lost concentration.”

Lindrl stopped for a moment, looking straight into Silvy’s green wide eyes. “To most students, we say that the advanced spells have the same rebound of the intermediate ones, mainly because most of them will never be able to cast one. But, given that a certain someone ”

Lindrl dangerously narrowed her eyes. “can cast advanced spells, I’ll tell you the truth. This is the reason people rarely use advanced spells, as the effects of failure are… catastrophic, as documented twice in the past. First, the rune will cast a spell, following the same principle of the intermediate ones. However, the effects will be much stronger than normal, possibly razing entire cities to the ground. The area hit by the after-effect will have its mana in a chaotic state, and creatures remaining in this zone for too long will die. The caster would be already dead if we count only these two events, but there is one more: the rune will be completed only with the mana of the caster, as with basic and intermediate spells, but using a hundred times more than needed. Needless to say, no human or sapient has enough mana to survive something like that. You may ask yourself how we know this as there would surely be no survivor in the aftermath, and you are right. Gods have passed this information down when they gave the [Archmages] their first advanced spell, and it’s something few people know about. In other words, failing to cast an advanced spell would mean death, to the caster and its surroundings.”

Lindrl stopped speaking, sitting on a couch and heating a cup of tea with a magical flame. Silvy was in a daze, trying to understand how much power would take to raze a city to the ground. Then she realized, much to her dismay, that she had cast one advanced spell, and a simple mistake would have killed her for good. Seeing Silvy understanding her point, Lindrl stood up again after finishing her tea, but Silvy asked another question before she could continue.

“Uh… Can you cast spells while moving? I tried a few times, but failed.”

“Yes, you can.” Lindrl answered. “But it’s harder than you imagine. Remember the feeling you get when moving the ambient mana? It’s like redirecting a river, hard but not impossible. Now, imagine not only doing that but moving the very structure the river is flowing through. Is it impossible? No. I know how to cast two basic spells while moving. Is it easy? Not a chance. Arguably, it’s harder than casting advanced spells.”

Ambient mana was whimsical, moving freely and unrestrained. Mages tried and succeeded in harnessing this powerful and wild phenomenon, giving it a direction in the form of a rune. In many ways, it was like taming a wild horse; giving it a confined road to move in, the horse would have little choice than to move through it. But moving a rune was akin to moving the road and the horse at the same time, something borderline impossible. Silvy realized she’d have to wait a long time before being able to cast while moving, maybe even learning to cast an advanced spell before that.

The lesson kept going from there, Lindrl explaining various spells, what they did, how they worked, their associated rune, and tricks on how to draw them, sometimes stopping and testing Silvy, seeing how much she understood or recalled of her lesson. Silvy knew almost every rune shown but said nothing. She greedily absorbed every information Lindrl fed her, easily answering every question, every instruction safely memorized.

At the end of the lesson, Silvy felt groggy and tired, as she had felt after eating powerful monsters in the past. The draining of the elemental core had been going throughout the day, transferring mana to her undead core. The impressive quantity of mana needed to be integrated inside it, just like the core had done in the past every time she had gone to sleep. After this integration, her core would be smarter, more powerful, and given that the day was ending, Silvy went to sleep, a dreamless and restful slumber.

Silvy got up from the bed, the knocking on the door waking her up. Lindrl was waiting there, her eyebrows raised. “Were you sleeping? It’s time for the lesson, come on.”

Lindrl questioned Silvy about yesterday’s teaching, satisfied at her precise and correct answers, nodding at each one. Another day passed with Lindrl showing runes, Silvy memorizing them but without the permission to cast them. Every new rune learned, Silvy realized how hard it would be to use them in battle. A [Mage] not only had to know the rune and how to draw it, but it had to remember its shape perfectly, having the composure and time to choose and cast the right spell amid the battle. Silvy had an advantage over them, as she could remember them perfectly, much to her relief, but the other steps still remained. And given that in the future there might be no one teaching her, perfectly recalling every rune was a huge benefit.

But, after two days of learning runes, Silvy realized she had yet to see a single one for healing. She had already realized that there wasn’t one when she was going through the spells known by the elemental, but had attributed it to the monster not needing one, as mana was its body. Seeing that this was not the case, Silvy revealed her doubts and Lindrl answered them.

“There are spells for healing, but they are useless to people like us.” Lindrl said, a sad smile on her lips. “The spells for healing and empowering others come directly from the gods, and only priests can cast them. Many other mages and I know the runes for many healing spells, but any attempt to cast it will cause no effect other than consuming mana. Mages have some spells to empower themselves, but they do not work on other people. Moreover, they don’t empower their body, but the next spell, or spells.”

“Why mages don’t also become priests then? It makes sense, no?” Silvy asked, confused.

“It does, but the priest class is not so easily obtained. The gods grant it themselves, and only those ready to devote their whole being to them can receive it. Needless to say, this goes against the very idea of a mage, who devotes his life to the study of magic. And don’t even think about lying to a god; if you intend to receive some spells and nothing more, they won’t answer you. Believe me, I tried.” Lindrl said with a wink.

The lesson stopped before noon, as Lindrl was busy and couldn’t teach Silvy. Left alone, Silvy trained by herself, creating and reabsorbing line after line, less and less mana used each time. What Lindrl had said was right: the better she became, the faster her progress. As much as it was counterintuitive, that was how it worked, even if there was most definitely a cap somewhere. But, given that the child still hadn’t reached it, she kept going as fast as possible, making great progress.

The next day was the same, with the lesson only in the morning. But there had been a major change inside Silvy. The drain on the elemental core had worked constantly throughout these three days, reaching the limit mid-morning. Silvy had already slowed it down a few times, diminishing the rate of the drain on the core, noticing how the less mana it had, the more susceptible it became. Unfortunately, she had reached the limit. The core would retaliate the moment Silvy touched it, forcing her to withdraw, making it impossible to drain it more. It was finally time to attack and eat it, absorbing as much magical knowledge as possible.

And yet, the disparity in power was unnerving, and Silvy didn’t want to lose this fight. If only she had some mana ready to be absorbed…

Silvy scrambled off her bed, knocking on Lindrl’s door a few seconds later. Lindrl might help her!

“Silvy. What do you need? Problems with magic?” Lindrl asked from behind her desk, her eyes scanning a piece of paper. The door had opened by itself, the archmage too lazy to get up.

Silvy walked in, dismissing these idle thoughts. “Can I buy some magical powder? Even monster cores are fine.”

“Why?” Lindrl asked, finally looking at Silvy.

“I want to replenish my mana.” Silvy answered. This was technically not a lie, but it was not the whole truth either.

Lindrl raised an eyebrow, a light flashing through her eyes, disappearing just as fast. “Your mana seems fine to me.” she answered, now suspicious.

Right, Lindrl could see her aura, and with it, her mana. Seeing auras was something Silvy could do before the elemental core had broken. Right now she couldn’t, but she hoped to learn it again in the future: it was a valuable skill.

“The core, the other one… it’s almost repaired. It needs more mana to finish, and also another day. Can we have a day off tomorrow?”

“That’s good news! Of course you can have a day off!” Lindrl said, enthusiastic. “Here.” she stood up, taking a bag out from the bookcase on the right, retrieving a bunch of cores from it. “These are Drake cores. Those monsters are found deep in the forest and are dangerous even to gold rank adventurers. They should have enough mana to repair the damage; if not, come back here, and I’ll give you more.”

Silvy nodded, thanking Lindrl and taking the cores from her hands. Monsters as strong as gold rank adventurers?! How much did these cores cost, anyway? Well, not that it mattered; these cores were hers now, for free. She closed the door to her room, feeling better about her odds.

Cores ready in case her mana ran low, she focused inward, the elemental core her aim. Silvy had never fought such battle, but her undead core had, once, against the sword in the blacksmith’s shop. A quick fight with no winner, but at least she knew what to expect.

Silvy sent tendril after tendril against the elemental core, trying to penetrate its defenses with a swarm. Her opponent, even unconscious, was better than she was, using the tendrils against her, attacking back through them. It forced Silvy to cut them off, as the core was using all of them at the same time to fight back. She thus limited the number of simultaneous attacks to two, as Silvy could not respond to too many at once.

The battle was difficult against a sleeping core; why would such a monster leave her in control? This was the best choice, betraying it before being betrayed. Shooting out tendril after tendril, they hit its defenses and consumed its limited mana, each time with a quick battle to take control of said tendril. Every time she would almost lose, cutting it off before the core could use it against her.

Silvy had learned, from the line exercises she had failed, that she recovered mana fast, faster than a normal human. She attributed it to her undead nature, given that those monsters literally lived off mana; where other species had food and water, undeads didn’t, focusing their whole being in absorbing ambient mana and replenishing their own.

But even this faster regeneration was not enough, her mana quickly decreasing faster than it recovered. At least, all those exercises were not in vain; winning without the control gained through the skills learned in the line creation would be impossible.

Dipping below a quarter of her mana, she popped a drake core in her mouth, a rush of mana filling her. Having created a barrier around the elemental core, no mana replenished it, Silvy having all of it for herself: perfect.

Hours later, deep into the night, the elemental core finally ran dry. Silvy slowly absorbed it, starting from its outer layer.

Cutting her sense so that nothing would disturb her, she concentrated on the core, trying to understand how it could control magic so easily, making this method her own.

Unfortunately, absorbing a core would not give her anything apart from mana, just like every other core: she had to study, understand it. She dissolved the outer layer, a small hole forming, leading to the inner part, her tendril wriggling the inside.

And Silvy remained open-mouthed. She could see only a small part of the insides, but it was mind-boggling. The most complicated rune she had ever seen was before her senses. Lindrl had talked about the fourth dimension for advanced spells, and Silvy had seen, cast one, but this was beyond it.

Lines upon lines of solid mana ran through the core, creating an incredibly complicated web. Each line had a different color, some Silvy couldn’t even name, didn’t even know existed in the first place. These lines intertwined and untied seemingly at random, sometimes suddenly disappearing and reappearing in another place as if space was bent. Flashes of light passed through and around them, many following impossible turns the lines were taking, some jumping from one line to another, some disappearing without reason.

Silvy moved a bit forward, and her surroundings shifted, changing everything around her. Many lines shifted into air symbols, some twisting so much they were unrecognizable. Winds howled around her, even if she shouldn’t hear anything, the web of crystallized mana swaying around more and more, threatening to break in a thousand pieces. Another step forward, and now triangles were all around her, heat coming from the rune, even if she shouldn’t feel any temperature. Each triangle had a swirling flame at the center, sometimes red, sometimes green, or another random color, snuffing out and becoming a raging inferno a moment later.

What was this? How could she do anything with this?! She had hoped for some inspiration from the core, not an incomprehensible rune! How was it even possible to create this? The world around her changed completely at every move, absurd shapes all around her. This was beyond anything she could ever hope to understand. This was… the work of Gods.

Retracting from the core, Silvy analyzed the situation, ignoring the feeling she had stumbled upon something huge, possibly that Gods had created monsters. How could she utilize this core? Maybe, after all, the best idea was to remove it from her body and reforge it in a new crystal for casting, reinserting it after that. She already knew the elemental core was a slave, no, less than a slave, and that meant it was a crystal for casting, so why couldn’t she do it again? But death was a real possibility, as she wasn’t sure about the balance of her body. No, removing it was too risky.

Absorbing it like an undead would leave her without the magical prowess of the elemental, so that wasn’t an attractive option, even if she’d gain a lot of mana.

Lindrl wouldn’t be able to help her either. Maybe she should leave it and come back later? After all, it wouldn’t repair itself without mana, and it wouldn’t decay. Or did it?.

No, that was the worst option. What if it decayed? She would lose the opportunity to learn anything from it and the mana from absorbing it. What was she supposed to do? Should she copy it? She couldn’t modify her undead core… or could she?

She concentrated inward again, this time on the undead core. It offered no resistance, as expected: it was a part of her now. The insides had a rune, but simpler, much simpler than the one inside the elemental core. It was still beyond her comprehension, but the lines were less, with a simpler arrangement. Even the feeling she felt from it was… simpler, for the lack of a better term.

Could she change them, move them around? Time to test it. She reached for a line, moving it-

Opening her eyes, Silvy was staring at the ceiling. What happened? She was reaching for the line, and then… did she lose consciousness? How long was she out?! Looking out the window, Silvy confirmed it was night, but it was hard to understand how much time had passed, as she had cut her senses before starting her internal probing. At least it didn’t look like she had lost an entire day…

Focusing inward again, the undead rune now felt different. Wrong. Before she felt it was simple, now she felt it was wrong. After a few minutes of moving her perception around, she found the source of this wrongness, the line she had changed. Bringing it back into place, she felt her body relax and her mind clearing, even if she hadn’t felt tense or muddled in the first place. And she didn’t even lose consciousness.

Deciding that shifting around the rune in her undead core, which was the source of her life, was a terrible idea, she opened her eyes and stared at the drake cores, coming up with another idea. There were seven of them, and she could train with them before trying again with her core, so she did that.

A drake core in her mouth, she absorbed the outer layer like she had done with the elemental one, accessing the rune inside, a different one. The complexity felt much closer to an elemental than to undead, but still on a different level, simpler. Moreover, she could feel the rune focused on the earth element.

That didn’t matter to Silvy, though. She split her focus, looking at the rune inside the elemental core and the drake core at the same time. Shifting the crystallized mana inside the drake core, she tried to replicate the elemental rune, but no matter what she did, nothing worked. There was always something wrong, and after two hours of probing, moving and changing it around, the drake core suddenly broke in two pieces, forcing her perception out, disorienting Silvy for a moment. Shrugging at the failure, she absorbed it, gaining absolutely no mana from it: apparently, she had broken the rune inside so much that it held no value anymore. Not losing hope from this small setback, she popped another drake core in her mouth, resuming the experiment.

In the middle of the afternoon, the last of the drake cores broke into two pieces. Silvy focused on her undead core, unsure of what to expect. And then she felt it.

The rune inside was different. It was a minuscule different, as much as Silvy could tell: a single line had changed color, from white to pink. But she could feel magic coming from it, the power to mold, tame it. It wasn’t even remotely close to the elemental capabilities, but this was hers. Was shaping the other cores enhancing her knowledge? Was it really possible?

No, it made sense, thinking about it: understanding a rune of that caliber would surely enhance her understanding of magic, and even if it was only a small increase in power, it was still there.

Knowing that her efforts were not in vain, she reflected on how to approach Lindrl for more cores. Technically, any core would do, and in fact, quantity was what she needed, not quality; many cores of weak monsters would be perfect. How could she ask them without sounding suspicious? Coming up with an idea ridiculous enough, she went to speak with Lindrl.

“Why do you need more cores? Not enough mana?” Lindrl asked, amazed the drake cores were not enough.

Silvy looked at her feet, dejected. Her idea was stupid for a human but believable from a monster. That didn’t mean she had to appear comfortable with it.

“Silvy?” Lindrl called her, worried.

Silvy looked at Lindrl, embarrassment on her face. “The elemental core… wants to eat. A lot. It’s still repairing, but it’s hungry and wants to… munch. Those are its words. Or feelings, I guess.”

A dumb reason. Dumb enough that only a monster would use it. At least, that’s what Silvy was hoping for. Please, Lindrl, don’t check my aura…

Lindrl chuckled and shook her head, amused. “Are you serious? Fine. I’ll call Deal and ask her to buy a few hundred low-level cores. Now go.” Lindrl spoke to herself after that, going back to writing on a piece of paper. “Unbelievable. Greedy monsters…”

Mission successful! But why did Lindrl not check her aura? Was she trusting her? Maybe it was impolite to do. Or she had deemed it unnecessary.

Whatever the case, Silvy had achieved her objective, and that’s what mattered. Half an hour later, Deala gave Silvy a pouch containing hundreds of small cores. There was no point in counting them, but there were so many, she’d be busy for some time.