Chapter 36: Disturbance and Discovery
The evening had long since settled over the workshop, blanketing it in a quiet hush that only the steady crackle of the cooling kilns disturbed. Everyone else had long since retired for the night, but Arc remained--half-drowsy, half-possessed by curiosity. The fatigue tugged at his eyes, but the gleam of innovation in his gaze refused to dim. He sat alone beneath a lone overhead lamp, the circle of warm light pooling across a cluttered workbench.
Most of the day had been consumed in the reforging of Commander Azure's sword. A task that had significantly depleted the team's time and energy, leaving their primary project largely neglected. Now that he was alone, Arc took it upon himself to assess the team's research and gauge their progress in his absence.
Several pages of schematics and annotated notes lay spread across the bench. His fingers traced over the worn parchment as his eyes scanned every detail.
"Hmm… they've made decent progress," he murmured, flipping through a stack of design drafts. It's no surprise. But wait…"
His brow furrowed. The barrel material was still problematic--just as he'd encountered in his designs. And the payload schematics? They bore a suspicious resemblance to standard-issue depleted mana crystal grenades used by the military.
"It's clever," Arc mused, "but not quite. If I am Blunt, it's a copy-paste with minor tweaks. My prototype might stand a better chance."
He leaned back in the creaking chair, scribbling a few notes on the margins. The workshop was silent save for the scratch of graphite against paper -- until the soft echo of approaching footsteps cut through the calm.
A gentle knock rapped against the workshop door.
Arc stood and called out, "Who is it?"
He opened the door, revealing a familiar figure silhouetted in the soft moonlight. Liya Wispwood, wrapped in a cloak, stood in front of him.
"So, you're still working, Master Arc," she said, a slight smirk on her lips.
Arc rubbed the back of his neck. "Almost done. I was finishing up… well, catching up really. This team's made more headway than I expected. I didn't want to fall behind."
His eyes drifted to the stack of notes. "By the way, that journal I found on Mica… was that your work?"
Liya nodded, stepping into the light. "Yes. I wrote it during my academic years. I lent it to Mica when she showed interest in magic theory. Why?"
"The explanations were clear and easy to understand. Truthfully, that book may have saved my life at the time," Arc confessed. "For that, I am truly grateful."
"You're welcome," Liya replied, her expression softening. "It's good to know it helped."
Arc hesitated briefly before asking, "Would you teach me magic? I want to develop my abilities properly. I've barely scratched the surface."
"About that," she said with a small chuckle, "General Michael already made that decision for us. He asked me to tutor you until you've mastered the fundamentals."
Arc blinked. "Oh, in that case, I'm in your care."
"My class begins at first light," she said, already turning to leave. "At the training grounds. Don't be late."
"I won't," he called out as she disappeared into the night.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Arc exhaled deeply. His eyes drifted back to the workbench, but the weariness in his bones finally caught up with him. With one last glance at the launcher designs, he began packing up for the night.
"Training, huh?" he whispered to himself. "Guess tomorrow's going to be interesting."
Later that night, Arc lay restless in his new room--a proper one this time. Not a temporary infirmary bed. Not Mica Mistwood's borrowed guest quarters. A permanent space was assigned to him for his stay during the vacation.
The novelty of it all--the faint, comforting scent of polished wood and ancient stone, the steady hum of mana coursing through the walls--should have lulled him into sleep by now.
Yet excitement refused to let him drift away.
Tomorrow, he would begin his formal training under Lady Liya Wispwood, his first true magic instructor. Just thinking about it made his thoughts race wildly. For once, he wouldn't have to stumble through magic by sheer instinct. He would learn it properly, purposefully. No longer would he be mocked by the Branch Family Heads or looked down upon by his Sibling Cousins. Things were changing. He was changing.
Still, fatigue gnawed at him after the long day spent at the workshop, fine-tuning designs and monitoring the progress on his father's latest project, The Mana Grenade Launcher. His muscles ached, his body cried for rest... but his mind remained defiantly awake.
At times like these, Arc fell back into an old habit--thinking through problems. Overthinking. It was his way of outlasting the anxious energy.
His thoughts inevitably returned to the spell he had stumbled through on the night of the Goblin attack--the crude, unstable Search Magic that had drained his reserves dry, leaving him unconscious for a full day. Arc frowned into the dim ceiling, his mind replaying the chaotic moments repeatedly.
"I need to figure this out," he muttered, voice barely louder than the faint mana-hum vibrating in the stone walls.
He shifted slightly, the sheets rustling beneath him, and began to analyse the spell again, examining it piece by piece in his mind while occasionally making hand gestures in the air.
"The first attempt," Arc mused aloud, "failed because I poured too much mana into it. Even at close range, the cost was absurd. And the information I got back..." He grimaced. "Barely useful. Not worth the trade. While I can think of an application for the Spell in a sensory-deprived environment, the fact remains that the mana cost is too high."
He rubbed his chin absently, lost in thought.
"In a real battle, the situation is even more challenging. I'd use half my mana for a slight boost in spatial awareness, leaving me too drained for even basic spells. Unlike the Sensory Spell, combat spells demand much more mana for optimal results. This means I cannot use this Sensory Spell alongside other spells, even if I wanted to."
Frustration boiled in his chest. He punched the mattress lightly, the sound muffled but sharp enough to vent some of his irritation. "What a waste," he growled.
Yet he wasn't ready to abandon it. Leaning forward, eyes tracing the flickering shadows on the stone walls, he continued thinking.
"The only good thing," he conceded bitterly, "is that I can pull back some of the mana once the spell ends, to be precise, the mana that carries the information of the environment, i.e the mana that gets reflected to me upon making contact with a solid surface. But even that's a mess. I have to keep the range short, too short to be of any use... the mana reserves deployed are too severe." His voice dipped into a soft sigh. "If only it worked the way I intended. It would've been incredible."
For now, it remained just another reminder of how far he still had to go.
But he wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.
Arc shifted on the bed, gathering his thoughts. His second attempt--the improved spell--had fared better. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he recalled it.
"I tweaked the first design," he whispered to himself. "I reduced the mana consumption. Changed the way the particles function."
Instead of just passively mapping the space around him, Arc had made the mana particles responsive to other mana signatures. As living beings, magical items, and the ambient mana freely flowing in the environment were the only sources of mana, this approach was quite ingenious.
It was a massive improvement. Less mana used, clearer results, and importantly, He could stack this spell with his natural senses conveniently, giving him a passive form of threat detection.
But even that came with problems.
"I can extend the range of this spell much farther than before because it requires significantly less mana. The result is a dotted pattern map of my environment, unlike the faint, hazy imprint I had during my first attempt. I could still detect details from the patterns of mana concentration." Arc admitted.
"The farther I push the spell, the closer the overall cost approaches that of the first spell's excessive drain. Additionally, the clarity of the intelligence decreases as the range increases, especially when I maintain the same mana output while expanding the range. I think the first spell had a similar drawback. But I limited the range too much. To fully assess its effects. Since the principle is the same, I expect the same issue will arise with that spell."
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "And even worse, the mana recovery afterwards is pathetic--practically nothing compared to what I expend, unlike the first spell in proportional terms."
It had been a frustrating realisation. A spell useful in theory but unsustainable over time. Another memory surfaced--Sharla's warning from that Night. " Be careful, though. Detection spells make you a beacon for others who can sense mana. The moment you use it, you risk being found."
Arc grimaced. In stealth, both versions of his Search Magic would reveal his presence like a beacon. "If I were the Enemy, I'd use this spell to map my surroundings, making my foes stand out clearly."
He flopped backwards onto the bed, limbs sprawled, and accidentally knocked over a small lamp on the bedside table with a sharp clatter.
"Ugh!" he groaned, reaching over to set it upright--then froze.
The Faint hum of the Walls and the Knocking Sound of the Lamps made an idea flicker in his mind.
"...What if I'm going about this all wrong?" Arc sat up slowly, his heart beginning to race with sudden inspiration. "I don't have to see or detect mana directly. I merely require a way to sense disturbances."
Excited, he raised his hands, palms facing each other a short distance apart. Carefully, he coated both hands in thin layers of mana, willing them to vibrate, to resonate.
A low, almost imperceptible hum filled the space between them.
"It works," he whispered, grinning. But the flaw was obvious. Anyone nearby would hear it too, instantly giving away his position.
He frowned. "I need the sound... but not the noise."
Thinking quickly, Arc adjusted the vibration patterns. Instead of different frequencies, he synchronised both hands to emit identical hums, identical amplitudes.
The result? Silence. To be precise, near Silence
The two sounds cancelled each other out almost perfectly.
Arc's eyes widened. It's working.
For the final test, he lifted one knee and carefully inserted it between the Gap created by his parallel hands.
Instantly, a soft hum resonated again, the balance disrupted by the intrusion.
"So it works..." Arc murmured, hardly daring to believe it.
With growing excitement, he crafted two tiny mana orbs and floated them in the air. He instructed them to replicate the same synchronised vibrations. Then he slowly passed his hand between them--and once again, the hidden hum was disturbed, creating an audible signal only when something crossed the invisible boundary.
A low chuckle escaped him. "Now we're getting somewhere."
This new method barely consumed any mana at all. Deployment was simple. Detection was subtle. And if he instructed the particles to return to him afterwards, he could reclaim most of the spent energy.
Arc's mind raced with possibilities. No textbooks he had read ever mentioned recalling mana particles after casting--a spell that could massively change how he approached magic.
"Perhaps no one attempts it because they already have such vast reserves," he speculated. "Alternatively, they might develop immense cores through years of training and choose not to pursue it, as in most, if not all, cases, the recovered mana is significantly less. Moreover, it's worth noting that the intricacies of the spell would escalate dramatically for such minor rewards. Looking from their perspective, it becomes all too clear."
But for someone like Arc, still building his strength? It was a lifeline.
He spent the next hour experimenting--different distances, configurations, even moving the detection fields while lying sprawled across his bed. Each successful test brought a fresh wave of satisfaction.
The method had limitations, but was the least known mana-draining technique. The caster needed a clear mental picture of the spell to cast it properly.
"Nothing I can't fix with practice. The mana drain and counter-detection drawbacks are managed," Arc thought. "Even if someone used a similar spell to the first or second, they would struggle to locate this formation. The mana is scattered in small clumps, and it's hard to counter unless they know what to look for. Plus, I have clever ways to make detection even harder."
As Arc continued to tinker and reflect, he noticed a potential flaw in his technique. "I can already see the limitations of this spell, but I believe that with time, I can address those issues. For now, this will have to do." He recognised challenges in range, the types of obstacles it could detect, and its ineffectiveness in certain specialised environments. However, for the moment, it was a huge, leaping breakthrough for Arc.
Finally, fatigue caught up to him. Arc yawned, flopping back against the mattress, his limbs heavy with exhaustion.
Before sleep claimed him, a last thought flickered through his mind.
"Tomorrow, everything changes."
And for the first time in a long while, Arc drifted into sleep with a quiet, determined smile.
The morning light streamed into the estate, but Arc remained tucked under his covers, fast asleep. A maid knocked and entered to clean as the sun rose high.
She sighed at the sight of him sprawled across the bed, hair messy and limbs tangled in blankets. "Young Master Crafter," she said firmly. "You're late."
Arc opened his eyes, still groggy, and suddenly realised something important, his eyes widening in shock.
"What time is it?!"
The maid shot a glance at the wall clock before leaving the room. Arc sat up suddenly—training with Liya Wispwood was today!
In a blur of panic, he tore through getting dressed, nearly tripping over his boots. There was no time for breakfast—not even a sip of the tea left to steep by his bedside. Grabbing his coat and jamming one arm through the wrong sleeve, he bolted out of the room and down the hallways like a startled spirit.
The training grounds were located between the eastern wing of the estate and the outer walls. Arriving panting and dishevelled, Arc skidded to a halt just outside the training yard.
He paused, catching his breath.
From behind a row of standard training dummies, he saw the Yard Filled with Soldiers who were also engaged in their respective training.
Arc stood frozen at the edge of this living battlefield. His stomach sank.
"Great," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'm late. And I'm completely screwed."
He squared his shoulders and took a breath, preparing to walk forward. The impression he was about to make would likely be bad, but maybe he could salvage it.
***