Chương 67: Relay Cocoon

The next morning. Rowan opened his eyes as the familiar sound of advertisements began to play. He had barely slept at all the night before. Of course, he hadn't been cultivating mana either. In a mana-depleted environment like Terra, trying to make any real progress through mana channeling alone was almost impossible unless one entered a Public Mana Supply Pod. Instead, Rowan had spent the entire night trying to advance the Mind-Splitting Art.

Whenever his Mental Power approached the safe threshold, he stopped and rested. Once he recovered, he resumed. Again and again. The strange trajectory he had glimpsed at the edge of The Boundless Martial Diagram last night still lingered in his memory. Surge outward. Spread apart. Fall back. Then surge outward once more. He tried incorporating that rhythm into his practice of the Mind-Splitting Art. The effect was more obvious than he had expected.

The auxiliary core, which had already been nearly half complete, broke through several previously difficult bottlenecks under the influence of that strange rhythm. By the time dawn approached, its construction progress had already reached nearly four-fifths. Unfortunately, the inspiration left behind by The Boundless Martial Diagram had also been completely exhausted in the process. The moment the last trace of that feeling disappeared, Rowan suddenly understood C-38 a little better.

He should have spent a little longer looking at The Boundless Martial Diagram last night. He really should have. Rowan checked the time and left his room. The hallways of Westpoint Magitech High School were quieter than usual. There were still twenty minutes before classes officially began, but a line had already formed outside the third-floor resource distribution room.

Students who had passed the final monthly examination qualification screening entered one by one to verify their identities, Source Crystal Core conditions, and collection records. When they emerged, most of them were carrying palm-sized silver-gray containment cases. Mana Primordia. Rowan stood in line and watched the students ahead of him complete the verification process one after another. Quite a few people in the hallway were discussing The Boundless Martial Diagram.

"I heard someone was actually chosen by the Diagram."

"As a temporary attendant?"

"Who knows? My friend said the person was taken away immediately."

"Is Master Hill really taking one final student?"

"Probably just a rumor."

"Then why do you sound so bitter?" The speaker immediately shut his mouth. Rad stood behind Rowan and yawned.

"Serving drinks for people last night, then coming to school first thing in the morning to collect resources." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sometimes I think we live like miners being chased around by a timetable." Rowan said, "Miners don't get free Mana Primordia." Rad paused.

"Fair point." The door ahead opened. A student walked out holding a containment case. The teacher handling registration looked up.

"Next." Rowan walked inside. The verification process was quick. Identity chip. Student number. Source Crystal Core fluctuations. One by one, the data fields on the screen turned green. The teacher responsible for resource distribution opened a cryogenic storage cabinet behind him and took out a silver-gray box. Printed on the front was a joint serial number from the Republic's Public Resource Distribution Bureau and the education system.

This thing was completely different from the Mana Primordium Rowan had brought back from Aethergard. The Primordia over there had no serial numbers. No registration records. No one knew who had dug them out of the ground, or whose hands they had passed through afterward. The one in front of him, however, had a record of every transfer it had undergone from the moment it left the public warehouse. The teacher pushed the containment case toward him.

"Confirm receipt." Rowan pressed his hand against the registration panel. [Collection complete.] [Resource: Mana Primordium.] [Status: Registered.] [Recommended uses: Source Rune etching, crystal core stabilization, breakthrough assistance.] Rowan put away the case. Just as he was about to leave, Mr. Miller's voice came from the doorway.

"Rowan. Wait." Rowan stopped. Mr. Miller had arrived earlier than usual today. The collar of his shirt had not been properly straightened, and he was holding an unopened teaching terminal under one arm.

"Come with me." The two walked into an empty classroom at the end of the hallway. Mr. Miller closed the door. Rowan looked at him.

"The military exam?" Mr. Miller was silent for a moment.

"You've already heard about it?"

"A little."

"News travels faster through the upper circles than through official school notices." Mr. Miller walked to the window. Down on the training field, several students who had arrived early were adjusting their spellcasting aids.

"The school still hasn't received the complete notice," he said.

"But last night, two teachers were temporarily requisitioned by the military." Rowan's gaze shifted slightly.

"What specialties?"

"One handles ruin tactical simulations. The other specializes in array safety and emergency engineering." Mr. Miller turned around.

"Both are temporary assignments."

"The notice only says they're assisting with special preparations for the southeastern wall segment." Rowan asked, "The joint examination zone?" Mr. Miller looked at him for two seconds.

"Looks like you've heard more than I thought." He didn't ask where the information had come from.

"I don't know exactly what form the assessment will take."

"And I don't know why a special recruitment examination for students requires professional teachers from the school to be temporarily reassigned."

"Maybe the scope is simply larger."

"Maybe the examination site is more complicated than before." If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"Or..." Mr. Miller paused.

"Maybe whatever the military is preparing was never meant to be just an ordinary exam." The classroom fell silent for several seconds. The sounds of spells being cast on the training field drifted in from outside. Mr. Miller sighed.

"That's only my guess."

"I have no evidence." Rowan nodded.

"I understand." Mr. Miller raised a hand and rubbed between his brows.

"The risk agreement hasn't been issued yet."

"When it comes, don't just read the first page."

"Liability waivers, medical expenses, disability compensation, disposal of personal effects..."

"Read all of it."

"I will," Rowan said. Mr. Miller glanced at the silver-gray containment case in Rowan's hand.

"Take the Primordium."

"You earned it yourself." He paused.

"Taking it doesn't mean you owe the military your life." Rowan looked at him. Mr. Miller had already turned around and opened the classroom door.

"Think carefully before you make your decision." When Rowan reached the doorway, Mr. Miller spoke again from behind him.

"Rowan."

"Yeah?"

"When things really start looking wrong, there's no shame in changing your mind." He paused.

"Only the living get the chance to regret anything." Rowan stopped for a moment.

"Understood." Then he walked out of the classroom.... After morning classes ended, Rowan didn't head to the Old Rail immediately. He returned home first. He placed the Mana Primordium inside a concealed compartment. Then he opened the local map and marked the streets, surveillance coverage, public transportation routes, and several underground exits near the northern section of the Old Rail. The Old Rail System had once handled part of the Seventh Abyssal Hive's horizontal freight traffic.

Later, ground subsidence and several reconstructions of the mana pipeline network had caused most of the lines to be abandoned. Some sections had been converted into cheap storage facilities. Others had become gathering places for temporary storage businesses, repair stalls, and unlicensed vendors. Old Rail North Locker No. 7 was located in the underground storage hall beneath Old Rail North Station. Two hundred and seventy meters from the nearest public exit. Three exits to the surface. Two maintenance shafts.

One old drainage passage. Surveillance wasn't particularly strict. But the flow of people was complicated. Rowan didn't leave immediately. 3: 47 p. m. He lowered his head and looked at his right wrist. A faint blue glow had once again appeared around the edge of his Möbius Ring Birthmark. Recovery complete. Only then did Rowan change into an inconspicuous dark gray coat and hide his high-frequency straight sword beneath it. He also brought the disposable Gray Deer Concealment Talisman Plaque.

After checking the route one last time, he left the room.... Old Rail North Station looked even more dilapidated than it had on the map. Half of the abandoned rail entrance had been sealed off with iron sheets. Two advertising lightboxes were still working. One endlessly looped an advertisement for cheap prosthetic rentals. Most of the other screen was already broken, leaving only half of a woman's face flickering again and again. The underground storage hall was behind the old station concourse.

Rows of lockers stretched along the walls. There was no attendant. Only a self-service terminal that looked half dead. Rowan entered. He didn't approach Locker No. 7 directly. First, he made a circuit of the hall. Three people were playing cards in one corner. An old man slept against a heating pipe. Farther away, a young couple was arguing. No one seemed particularly interested in the lockers. Rowan checked the surveillance blind spots one more time. Only then did he walk toward North Locker No. 7.

There was a narrow pane of glass set into the locker door. Through it, he could see several pieces of old clothing piled inside. A brown work jacket. A gray scarf. And an old hat that had been crushed flat. Rowan stood in front of the locker. He was silent for two seconds. This was the reward? He didn't open the door immediately. His AR interface switched to near-field scan mode. Temperature. Mana fluctuations. Metal structure. Nearby active targets. The results appeared one after another.

No abnormal high-energy reactions. No characteristics of a Spatial Array Container. Even the lock was nothing more than an ordinary mechanical structure. Rowan raised his right hand. The instant his fingertips touched the locker door— Inside his mental sea. The Gray Chrysalis that had remained suppressed at the very edge trembled slightly. The next instant. A blurry gray shadow projected itself from the depths of his mental sea. There was no actual light. Yet it appeared clearly across the surface of the locker.

The thing resembled a moth. Or perhaps a butterfly that had only just struggled free of its chrysalis. The edges of its wings were indistinct. Its body looked like an elongated gray fissure. Rowan kept his hand on the locker door. The gray shadow beat its wings once. Mist suddenly formed on the inside of the glass. The outline of the brown work jacket began to fade. The scarf disappeared. The old hat was swallowed by a layer of damp shadow as well. A few seconds later.

Nothing remained behind the glass except a blurred patch of darkness. Rowan took half a step back. The Möbius Ring on his right wrist had fully recovered. At the first sign of trouble, he could leave immediately. Rowan reached out and pulled the locker door open. Warm, humid air rushed toward him. He looked inside. There were no clothes. Nor was there any metal interior wall. Where sheet metal should have been, there was now a layer of damp, dark-red flesh. The fleshy walls contracted slowly.

Transparent mucus coated their surfaces. It looked like the toothless mouth of some enormous creature. Rowan stood where he was. He didn't move. A faint squirming sound came from deep inside the locker. Then— A wet tongue slowly extended outward. Two objects rested on it. A flat black case. And a gray memory crystal chip. The tongue stopped in front of Rowan. Like an extraordinarily patient serving tray. Rowan did not reach out immediately. First, he glanced around. No one was watching.

The AR near-field scan swept over the black case. No explosive structure was detected, nor were there any obvious high-energy reactions. Rowan took the black case first. Then the memory crystal chip. The tongue still didn't retract. Rowan looked at it. It had no eyes. Yet, for some reason— Rowan had the distinct impression that it was waiting. A few seconds later. His palm began to itch. Blood-red fleshy buds emerged from the lines of his palm. [Reward retrieval complete.] [Please feed the Relay Cocoon.] Rowan: "..." He looked down at the items in his hands. Then back at the tongue still hanging outside. So shipping wasn't free. Rowan hadn't brought any mana crystals with him. All he had was a small sealed packet of mana-beast jerky he had made in the other world. He had originally brought it as emergency food to restore his strength. Rowan took out one piece. He tossed it onto the tongue. The tongue immediately curled around the jerky. Then it withdrew into the mouth.

A series of wet chewing noises came from inside. Soon, the sound stopped. Rowan waited for two seconds. The tongue stretched out again. Empty. The tip swayed in the air. Then edged a little closer to the pouch at Rowan's waist. Rowan placed a hand over the pouch. The tongue stopped. Man and tongue remained locked in a standoff for two seconds. Finally. The tongue withdrew with obvious reluctance. Rowan watched the fleshy walls slowly close. Was it still hungry, or had it just not liked the taste?

The flesh sealed completely. The interior of the locker returned to darkness. Rowan closed the locker door. A few seconds later. The mist behind the glass slowly faded. The brown work jacket reappeared. The gray scarf and old hat were still in their original positions. As though nothing had happened. Rowan gave Old Rail North Locker No. 7 one last look. Then he turned and left.... He didn't go directly home. He doubled back twice. Changed to another public transit vehicle.

Then got off early before reaching his stop. Only after confirming that there was no persistent tail did Rowan enter a small training room rented by the hour. The door locked behind him. The shielding array activated. The first thing Rowan did was open the flat black case. Inside was a dark-red spell card. The card was about as thick as an ordinary data chip. A highly compressed mass of fire-attribute mana had been sealed inside it. Rowan barely touched it with his Mental Power.

Identification information immediately appeared across the surface of the card. [Single-use offensive spell card.] [Spell: Crimson Scorching Lance.] [Attribute: Fire.] [Remaining uses: 1.] [Attack output evaluation: Peak Tier 1.] [Theoretical destructive power: Within the full-power attack range of a Four-Phase Mage.] Rowan's eyes shifted slightly. A D4-grade spell! It was still a purely fire-attribute model, yet it had already entered the normal operational level of a Tier 1 Four-Phase Mage.

And the spell card contained both the complete mana supply and the compressed spell model. All the user needed to do was activate it. Then the attack would be released. Rowan turned the card over. There were slight signs of wear on the back. It wasn't newly made. It looked more like something someone had ordered in advance and stored away somewhere for a long time. Grey Raven? Rowan returned the card to its case. This was a genuine life-saving trump card. He only had one use.

Unless absolutely necessary, he couldn't waste it. After that. He inserted the gray memory crystal chip into an offline terminal. There was no program. No complicated archive. Only a simple coordinate record. [Target: Leyline Silver Moss.] [Location: Sector 5, former designation K-117 Ruin Zone.] [Last confirmed: Eight months ago.] [Current possession status: Unknown.] [Hazard rating: Insufficient data.] Below the record was a blurry photograph. A thin layer of silver moss grew across a gray-black stone wall.

Tiny lines of light extended between the moss. They looked like invisible veins buried deep beneath the earth that had somehow risen to the surface of the stone. Rowan stared at the image for a long time. Leyline Silver Moss. He had never heard of the material before. He had no idea what it was used for either. Rowan entered the name into the public Akashic Network. Even with his Association access privileges as a registered Tier 1 Mage, he could only view a handful of public entries.

There were very few search results. Several outdated alchemical material catalogs. Two paper citations that showed nothing but their titles. One Explorer material purchase request from more than a decade ago. Almost all detailed information required access to specialized databases. Rowan didn't purchase access. Grey Raven had reserved information about a ruin material in advance. And the organization behind the Gray Chrysalis had later distributed that information as a reward.

At the very least, that meant the material was anything but ordinary. Rowan removed the crystal chip. He saved the coordinates separately into the offline terminal. There was no need to go there immediately. He didn't even know what was inside K-117. Nor did he know how much Leyline Silver Moss was worth. After putting both rewards away. Rowan didn't leave the training room immediately. He sat for a while. Then pulled up another structural diagram on his personal terminal. Wellspring Step.

More than two hundred Water Source Runes. Layer upon layer of circuits. An enormous number of repeated structures, all routed around one another merely to produce a single explosive burst beneath the feet. Rowan had always thought it was bloated. Now, there was a possibility that the military exam would take place inside a massive ancient ruin. High-magitech implants would be restricted. External equipment might itself become a source of danger.

Under those circumstances— The spells one personally mastered became all the more important. And the biggest problem with Wellspring Step was currently its excessive consumption. Rowan opened his Dark Web messenger and found a familiar name. @plus_Hermit. He sent a message. [Know any model pruners?] The reply came in less than a minute. [?] Then another message followed. [You finally came to your senses?] Rowan stared at the screen. [What do you mean?] Hermit replied quickly. [You came to the right person.] [When I translated Wellspring Step, I already hated the look of that spell model.] [More than two hundred Water Source Runes.] Rowan was silent for a moment. Hermit continued sending messages. [At first, I thought I'd mistranslated it.] [Then I checked it six times.] [I hadn't.] [It really is that long.] Rowan replied: [Then why didn't you say anything?] The other side went silent for a few seconds. Then— [Look, just because I work on the Dark Web doesn't mean I don't respect contracts.] [Without my client's authorization, I won't leak a single character of their intellectual property.] [And I definitely won't hand a complete spell model over to a third party for analysis.] Two seconds later, another message appeared. [Professional ethics.] Rowan stared at those two words. Dark Web. Professional ethics. Somehow, putting the two together felt strangely harmonious. He asked: [Can you do it now?] [Now you're the one actively requesting optimization.] [Of course I can.] Rowan leaned back against the wall of the training room. [Who do you know?] Hermit replied: [One person.] [A model pruner.] [Specializes in spell-model compression, redundant-circuit elimination, casting-latency optimization, and modernization of ancient spell models.] [Not cheap.] There was a short pause. [Neither is his temper.] Rowan asked: [Reliable?] This time. Hermit took more than ten seconds to reply. [When it comes to respecting intellectual property, he's a little worse than me.] Another message immediately followed. [Still usable, though.] Rowan stared at the screen. The military exam. The joint examination zone. An ancient ruin. A Crimson Scorching Lance that could only be used once. The coordinates of a patch of Leyline Silver Moss whose purpose was unknown. And a Wellspring Step containing more than two hundred Source Runes that should have been torn apart and rebuilt long ago. A few seconds later. Hermit sent one final message.

[Send me a short section of the model that shows its structural characteristics.] [Don't send the complete model. Don't include any background information either.] [I'll ask whether he's willing to take the job first.] Rowan's finger stopped above the send interface. Then— He began creating a new encrypted file.