Wired transfer. It is the only logical choice for a closed circuit: maximizing efficiency and safety.
Arthur took the Rune Engraver again. He didn't inject mana into it yet. First, he mapped the path in his head.
He would carve a channel—a physical tunnel to direct the flow of mana—linking the sockets. But the order of operations was critical.
I must build the aqueduct before I breach the dam.
He had to carve backwards, from the lamp to the crystal.
If I slot the crystal first, and the path exists, the energy follows the current. It drains.
He glanced at the air surrounding the desk. Air was an insulator. If it were a viable path, the crystal's potential would have grounded itself long ago. The path he carved with the Rune Engraver, however, would be a receptive medium.
Arthur pressed the tip of the engraver into the soft stone near the lamp socket. He didn't hesitate. He began to carve the channel, working his way back toward the source, preparing the vessel for the blood it was about to receive.
The stylus moved with surgical confidence, extending the channel from the lamp socket, carving through the soft stone, until it kissed the edge of the crystal's housing.
Connected.
The physical path was complete, but without a driving force, it remained inert. To induce flow, he needed to warp the environment. He needed to establish a potential difference that the mana would have no choice but to obey.
He looked at the vertical housing behind the lamp socket.
The Sink.
He pressed the engraver into the stone, carving the precise rune: Negative.
He shifted to the housing behind the crystal socket. The Source.
He carved the opposing rune: Positive.
The inscription acted as an anchor. By defining the start as high potential and the end as low potential, he had constructed an invisible slope—a tangible electric field spanning the sixty centimeters of dead air and stone. The voltage gradient was now absolute; the energy would have no choice but to run down it.
Arthur set the Rune Engraver down. The preparation was finished. Now came the proof.
He picked up the modified crystal. The red stone felt warm, vibrating slightly against his skin. The hole in its center stared back at him like an eye.
He aligned it with the source socket.
Slot.
He pressed the crystal into place.
Snap.
The moment the crystal touched the housing, the circuit closed. The positive field shoved the mana out of the stone, and the negative field dragged it screaming across the channel.
Ignition.
The lamp flared to life. A blinding, solid white light flooded the desk.
Arthur narrowed his eyes against the glare.
It works.
The energy flowed freely. The fuel was burning. If he left it like this, the crystal would be dead in ten minutes.
He reached for the severed copper pin. He held it over the crystal, aligning the runes he had carved on the metal with the invisible fields of the system.
Positive to Positive. Negative to Negative. Repulsion stops flow.
He drove the pin into the hole he had drilled in the crystal's core axis.
Clack.
The copper seated firmly. The repulsive field generated by the rod slammed against the crystal's internal pressure.
The light died instantly.
Arthur watched the dark bulb. No residual fade. No flickering. Absolute termination. The rod held the mana back, acting as a physical dam within the lattice itself.
Operable.
Arthur sat with his hands folded on the desk, his face a mask of polite waiting, watching the Instructor navigate the rows of students.
Sivan Ruarc Vigo moved like a predatory bird, his silver monocle glinting as he inspected the engineering attempts of the class. He paused at a desk in the front row. The student had managed a functional circuit, the light burning steadily, but the setup was pedestrian—a simple bridge that would burn itself out in minutes.
"Adequate," Vigo murmured, barely slowing his pace. "A functional fire. Pass."
He moved down the line, stopping briefly at another station where the air shimmered with heat. The student had opted for a crude transfer method; the lamp lit, but the surrounding stone was hot to the touch.
"Crude," Vigo noted, tapping the desk with a single, disdainful finger. "You are cooking the air, not lighting the room. But the filament glows. Pass."
He continued his sweep, offering sharp nods and sharper critiques, dismissing the competent failures of imagination with efficient marks on his clipboard. They were all fires waiting to die. Not one of them had solved the problem of entropy.
Then, Vigo reached Arthur's desk.
The lamp was dark.
The Instructor stopped. The rhythm of his walk broke.
He looked at the unlit bulb, then at the crystal seated in the socket, and finally at the copper pin protruding from the stone's core. He didn't ask why it wasn't working. He didn't need to ask.
His eyes, magnified by the silver rim of his monocle, narrowed as he leaned in, reading the runes carved into the copper head.
"Demonstrate," Vigo said.
Arthur moved instantly, having already anticipated the command.
He took up his Rune Engraver, flipping it to the broad, flat side of the blade. He leveraged the tool against the copper head and hooked the stabilizer rod out.
Flash.
The lamp shone firmly, without a tremor of flickering. The brilliance was brighter than any other light in the room—not the glare of overexertion, but the piercing clarity of total energy efficiency.
Vigo made a sharp gesture. Cease.
Arthur released the rod.
Snap.
Darkness. Absolute and immediate.
A slow, terrifying grin spread beneath the Instructor's mustache. It was the smile of a man who had found a dangerous new toy among a box of wooden blocks.
"You didn't just build a circuit, Mr. Drevayne," Vigo said, his voice dropping to a purr that only Arthur could hear. "You built a throttle."
"A fire that burns until it consumes its fuel is not a machine," Arthur recited, his voice flat, borrowing the Instructor's own philosophy to mirror his ego. "It is a disaster."
Vigo straightened, adjusting his monocle with a precise click.
"Precisely."
He marked a sharp, heavy stroke on his clipboard. "Full marks. And Mr. Drevayne?"
Arthur looked up, meeting the predator's gaze.
"See me after class. There is a subject that requires much discussion."