Kael cleared his mind. The flood of Rakshar's memories—the map, the tactical knowledge, the chilling ritual of the blood bond—still felt raw, a chaotic tide of foreign experience. He sat in meditation for an hour, pushing the extraneous thoughts back into the Compendium's quiet data banks, until his focus was a clear, cool expanse.
He placed the Array Testing Tablet on the stone table. With a sliver of Flesh Mana, Kael made a small, clean incision on his finger. A drop of his blood fell onto the artifact.
The tablet, plain and inert, instantly absorbed the blood. Dozens of sigils hidden beneath the surface of the stone flared a searing turquoise. The blinding light pulsed once, then settled back into the stone's natural, unassuming brown state. The artifact was bound to him until his death.
He channeled his Arcane Mana into the tablet. His mind whirled for a dizzying moment, and then his awareness snapped into a new reality: a vast, plain chamber existing only in his consciousness, built purely for array development function.
Using the assimilated commands, Kael waved his hand, dismissing the Troll's incomprehensible archives. Kael could one day understand these arrays when he will be able to assimilate Rakshar's memories fully.
He stepped toward the central training space and, using his consciousness as his medium, began to carve the rune script for Phasing.
The inscribed rune floated in the air for several seconds, twitched, and then, with a silent, sharp flash, it exploded.
In its place, a full-fledged, shimmering three-dimensional array model stood before him—the structural analysis of his failed attempt. The model was color-coded: dark red for critical flaw, green for perfect placement, yellow for mid-level error.
The phase rune Kael had cast was an insult to geometry. The array was an alarming splash of color—mostly yellow with streaks of orange radiating from the central Earth Mana focus.
Kael frowned at the complexity. A single rune had bloomed into a massive array. Then the realization hit him with the force of an actual blow. The rune was not the spell; it was the key. The rune was the smallest possible entry point to the colossal, full-sized array that dictated the geometric behaviour of mana.
He dismissed the failed Phase Array. To test his theory, Kael cast his Spike Spell Rune, the one ability he knew the Compendium had already optimized for him. The rune exploded and immediately coalesced into a new array. This time, the structure was almost entirely green, with the exception of two small nodes that pulsed a faint, pale yellow.
A knot tightened in Kael's gut. The Compendium had designated this rune perfect for his rank. Was the tablet finding flaws where none existed, or was the Compendium making dangerous compromises?
He needed quantification.
"Compendium," Kael commanded, his voice sharp with focus. "Analyze the current Array Testing Tablet's model. Quantify the structural deviation of the two yellow nodes versus the stored model of the Spike Rune."
[Query Initiated: Array Structure Comparative Analysis. Cost: 5 CP.]
Kael accepted the cost instantly.
[Analysis Complete. The Compendium's Perfected Spike Rune model possesses a 0.003% efficiency loss in the two indicated nodes, primarily affecting long-term mana integrity under high-volume casting. The Array Testing Tablet highlights this loss as a structural imperfection. Conclusion: The Rune is perfect for the user's current Initiate Rank parameters, but imperfect for Master-tier continuous use.]
A single, chilling breath escaped Kael's lips. The Compendium gave him perfection for survival. The Tablet offered absolute, ultimate efficiency.
Kael focused on the two light yellow nodes, tweaking the geometric structure until the nodes snapped into a crystalline, blinding green. He projected his consciousness out of the Tablet, leaving the mental laboratory behind.
He needed to confirm the difference in behavior. In the physical cave, Kael cast the Tablet's newly refined Spike Rune and infused mana.
The refined spell fired immediately. The projectile of stone shot out without Kael's conscious intent, striking the cave wall with shattering force. He attempted to slow the casting, to hold the energy, but the array was rigid and instantaneous.
He tested it with different mana types. Arcane, Fire, and Air Mana felt sluggish and resisted the structure, but the spike still shot out the moment the array was formed.
The realization was complete. The Tablet's array was automatic, static, and optimized for its creator's method (Earth Mana). It achieved supreme efficiency by sacrificing the flexibility and intentional control that the Compendium's adaptive, fluid runes offered.
If he were facing an enemy now, this refined spike would hit with the force of a falling star, but he couldn't hold it in reserve. He couldn't feint. It was a hair-trigger weapon in a world that often required a scalpel.
Kael felt a cold, calculated glee. He would not discard the Compendium's flexibility. He would use the Tablet to perfect the geometry, then feed that refined data back to the Compendium to integrate the Tablet's efficiency with his own control.
He had not found a single tool. He had found a synthesis. He visualized the rigid, crystalline structure of the Tablet's array beginning to pulse with the Compendium's adaptive light—a living machine.
Kael channeled mana into the tablet again, and his consciousness sank deep into the artificial reality.
He immediately inscribed the Phase Rune he had originally acquired from the Stone Serpent. The rune exploded, turning into its full array schematic. Kael began the grueling process of refinement, guided by the Tablet's subtle intuition—the pressure against wrong lines felt like pushing his bare hands against a grinding stone, a psychic resistance that set his teeth on edge.
It took him three hours of relentless focus just to correct the array's yellow nodes. His mind felt like parched earth, every geometric adjustment a drop of moisture squeezed from his very marrow. The work was demanding, requiring absolute mental precision to micro-adjust geometric segments. Kael's mind was quickly exhausted; it was the most dry, intensive intellectual labor he had ever performed.
He pushed on, attempting to tackle the more structurally critical orange nodes. It took him a full day of continuous effort, with brief breaks only to re-center his consciousness, and he managed to clear only half of them. Kael's initial dream of producing array upon array was shattered. He knew that developing perfect arrays, even in this safe environment, would require time, focus, and a mastery he was only just beginning to grasp.
There was one undeniable benefit to the punishing exercise: the knowledge of the Phase Rune was advancing by leaps and bounds. He was internalizing the function of every channel and intersection—not just what the spell did, but how it coerced mana to achieve his desired effect. His mind had started to recognize the complex geometric patterns.
Even the Compendium was humming actively in his mindscape, its presence a cool, focused thrum. It wasn't just storing data; it was learning the fundamental, nitty-gritty language of array craft alongside him, preparing for the final synthesis.
After three more hours of grueling focus, the last of the orange nodes snapped into green.
Kael withdrew his consciousness, blinking as he returned to the dim reality of the stone dwelling. He was physically and mentally drained, yet utterly satisfied. The entire Phase Array structure now shimmered before him in the Tablet, flawless. Every segment glowed an intense, uniform green.
But as Kael studied the finished model, a frown creased his forehead. He could feel the static nature of the perfected rune. The Array Tablet had optimized it for structural integrity, not user intent. It was a mechanism, not a living spell. Once cast, it would lock the mana into a rigid countdown and Phase exactly ten seconds later.
If he were crafting a magical artifact or a trap, this rigidity would be perfect. But as a combat spell? It was a death sentence. He couldn't wait ten seconds to dodge a sword swing or a lightning bolt. He needed the efficiency of the Tablet but the fluidity of his own will.
"Compendium," he said, his voice raspy. "Inscribe the perfected Tablet geometry into my mindscape. But modify the architecture. Make it flexible to my usage—I want the efficiency without the rigidity."
The response was not the immediate confirmation he expected.
[Query Halted. Architectural Synthesis requires a broader data set to ensure stability. Requirement: Five distinct Perfected Rune Variants.]
Kael blinked, irritation spiking. "What? Why? You never needed multiple variants before. A single reference rune was always sufficient. And I don't have four other Phase Runes lying around to perfect."
He waited for the Compendium to offer a workaround. Instead, a sensation like a cold, ghostly hand reaching into his chest and plucking something vital lanced through him. It was a violation—the feeling of his very identity being spent like common coin.
Four distinct, complex geometric structures slammed into his memory, flooding his mindscape with blinding speed. Kael shook, gripping the edge of the stone table to keep from collapsing. He hadn't studied these. He hadn't recorded them.
Then the prompt appeared, and his heart slowed with a creeping dread.
[Harvesting Complete: User experimentation within the Array Testing Tablet refined into assets. 20 CP Deducted for Stabilization. Balance: 830 CP. Efficiency is paramount.]
Kael gasped, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The Compendium had been watching his failures—the exploded runes, the twisted arrays—and instead of discarding them as waste, it had quietly harvested them. It had spent his hard earned CP to turn his mistakes into assets without his consent. Every point lost was a piece of Kael that now belonged to the machine.
"Where..." Kael whispered, staring at the alien geometries now locked in his mind. "You're taking more than you give, aren't you?"
The adrenaline finally bled out of him, leaving his limbs feeling like lead. Kael was too tired to argue with the logic of a knowledge shard that saw him as a resource to be optimized. He carefully put down the Tablet.
He took one more slab of the raw vampiric bat meat from the golden brooch. He was initially going to make the simple broth he had eaten earlier, but then he remembered the small packet of spices Rakshar had carried in his satchel—powders that the Compendium had identified but dismissed as purely culinary.
"Compendium," Kael asked. "How much to fully assimilate Rakshar's cooking knowledge?"
[Query Initiated: Full assimilation of Rakshar's Culinary Knowledge. Cost: 5,750 CP]
Kael choked on a gasp. "What? Nearly six thousand CP just for cooking?"
[Clarification: Rakshar was a 'Spiritual Cook.' His expertise included Spirit Dishes capable of permanently increasing the potential of the user's body. Nutrient absorption efficacy increases by 200%.]
[Specific Recipe and Preparation Method Cost: 50 CP.]
Kael sat back, stunned. 50 CP to double the efficiency of the high-grade meat? It was a bargain he couldn't refuse, even as he felt the grim weight of what he was doing.
"Assimilate the recipe," Kael commanded.
Memory flooded him, but unlike the dry array tasks, this was a deluge of emotion. Kael felt the warmth of a hearth he'd never sat by, the calloused hands of a mate he'd never loved. This bat meat was for an anniversary—a gift of love from a man Kael had devour.
Kael's stomach churned. He was about to "eat" the memories of Rakshar's devotion just to gain a 200% nutrient boost. It was the ultimate cynicism of the Soul Devourer: turning a man's most sacred memories into a biological upgrade.
He calmed his mind and opened the spice case. He took the spices in the exact quantities the recipe dictated, putting them in an earth bowl. He rendered the bat fat until it was liquid, then combined it with the spices to make a paste.
He infused Arcane Mana until the paste began to shimmer. The mana barrier would lock the essence inside the meat. He marinated the light-red meat, watching through mana sight as the barrier coated every fiber. Then, he blanketed the slab in the remaining fat.
He placed the meat on a clay pot, ensuring it didn't touch the bottom. He turned the cooking array on. The recipe required twelve hours. As the scent of the meat began to fill the cave—a scent that carried the phantom echo of a Troll's happiness—Kael crawled into his bed and fell into a deep, haunted sleep.