After I claim my room and finish unpacking, I start playing around with the aetherplate again.
It activates with a slight pulse at my chest, the metallic necklace glowing softly before a familiar interface floats up in front of me. A simple hand gesture—palm open, fingers spread—causes a new tab to slide into view.
[STORAGE SPACE – Aether Inventory: 2.3% Occupied]
Curious, I reach over and tap it with a finger. A cool sensation rushes down my arm, and the room around me seems to dim slightly as a faint outline of a rectangular room appears in the air before me—a holographic projection of my personal storage space.
It's the size of a small bedroom, maybe 10 by 10 feet. The space is empty except for the satchel I just placed on the floor minutes ago.
Out of pure instinct, I grab the nearest item on my desk—my sketchpad—and hold it up.
[Detected: Sketchpad – Basic. Store in Aether Inventory?]
I blink. "Uh… yeah."
The sketchpad vanishes in a small flash of silver light, the same way the stone had glowed earlier. In the projection of the storage space, the sketchpad reappears, now hovering gently just above the translucent floor.
I try the same thing with a few more items—few canvasas, one of my clean shirts, and the some other stuff I use for painting. Each one vanishes with a brief shimmer and is displayed neatly inside the virtual space.
[Warning: Object limit approaching – 9.2% capacity reached.]
"Seriously?" I mutter. "This stuff barely takes up a corner."
[Your current Aether Inventory is equivalent to a standard 10x10 dorm room. Storage expansion available via academic credit expenditure.]
"Gosh I knew it."
Apparently even pocket dimensions here come with a student debt plan.
Still, it's impressive. The items inside look untouched, frozen in time, like they've been pulled from the real world and preserved in digital amber. I flick my finger again and pull the sketchpad back out—it reappears in my hand in the blink of an eye, exactly where it had been, even down to the page I last opened it to.
Zach's voice floats in from the common room. "Oi, Julius, you done nesting in there?"
"Just playing with my reality-defying magic necklace," I call back.
Will adds, "Save me space in the closet, or I'm hiding socks in your aether storage."
I roll my eyes, deactivating the interface. The glow fades from my wrist, and the room returns to normal.
Still… that was pretty cool.
I fall onto my bed in a daze from the whole storage room ordeal.
I then activate my Aetherplate menu again.
This time I swipe left on the menus. Status. Inventory. Messages. Next I spot something else that is new.
[Skills]
The word lingers there, tiny and discreet, waiting for me to be interested enough to click to learn more. I click on it and the screen darkens with a faint glimmer. It shows a list—no, not a list so much, just one skill:
[Skill: Picasso's Legacy – Living Canvas]
Type: Summoning (Special Class-linked)
Tier: Unranked (Growing)
Description: Allows the user to summon objects or beings they have painted or sketched. Complexity, size, and duration of summoned subjects depend on the user's mana, focus, and artistic clarity.
Cooldown: Variable
Drawback: High mental load. Risk of distortion increases if emotional state is unstable during summoning.
What does distortion mean? That doesn't sound like anything good at all.
[Figure it out, genius. I'm a Codex, not a babysitter.]
I was for sure not asking my codex on this. Figures Codex 099 would chime in right about now. It's like having a sarcastic second brain that doesn't believe in compliments.
Still, I can't stop staring at the skill description. It doesn't just confirm what I can do—it legitimizes it. Validates every weird thing I've ever felt when my fingers tingled over a pencil. Every time something I drew felt too alive to be just graphite and paper.
Now it's more than just art.
It's power.
Just as I'm getting ready to swipe out of the Skills tab, I remember the book Professor Griemore gave me before the ceremony.
It's still in my bag—or, well, it was.
I flick open my Aether Inventory again, and sure enough, the book floats within its neatly arranged digital space, resting beside my sketchpad like it belongs there. I tap it. A prompt appears.
[Unnamed Arcane Tome – Item Rank: ???]
Do you wish to bind this item to your Aetherplate?
Warning: Bound magical items cannot be transferred to others.
I didn't hesitate. Not even for a second.
There's no way I'm not doing this.
[Yes.]
The moment I confirm, a surge of blue-gold light spills out from the plate. It whirls in a spiral and condenses into the shape of the book, now hovering inches above my open palm. Its cover shifts as if alive—ink patterns dancing, forming sigils I can't fully understand.
Then, the book opens itself.
A page flips violently, and a blinding glyph flares into the air. My Aetherplate pings again, hard.
[New Passive Skill Acquired!]
[Skill: Etherfont Core]
Type: Passive Enhancement
Tier: Mythical
Effect: Greatly accelerates mana regeneration during rest and light activity. Enhances ambient mana absorption efficiency.
Additional Effect: Permanently increases maximum mana storage by 150%.
Status: Active
Note: This ability is partially auto-scaling. Benefits increase with age, progression, and emotional clarity. This trait is extremely rare.
Source: Artifact – Arcane Tome of Griemore
[Damn. He likes you.]
Even Codex 099 sounds mildly impressed.
The sensation washes over me like plunging into a cool stream on a hot day. My body doesn't tingle so much as it… settles. Breath deepens. Something inside expands, like an invisible well being carved open.
For the first time since the awakening, I feel like I can breathe again.
Mana trickles in, not just from within but from the space around me. I don't even have to try. It's as if the air itself is feeding into me, slowly but constantly.
I run a hand through my hair and mutter, "What is this thing?"
[Call it what you want. I'd call it unfair. But hey, I work for you. Enjoy the edge.]
I grin.
This is no ordinary skill and not an ordinary gift either.
Professor Griemore didn't just give me a head start.
He gave me a secret weapon.