Chapter 74: Spatial Storage

Since the guests would be staying the night, I had enough time to finish another proper rune painting for Iris. I just needed some time to think about it, draw out the schema, and then manufacture inspiration and work tirelessly for a couple of hours—and bang, we’d have another showpiece. No pressure.

Thankfully, I got a good sparring session with Father to get the creative juice flowing. Obviously, I was struck by his stick more often, having my mind fixed on a different problem, but my bracelet helped me escape all the blows. It couldn’t solve any of the chiding, however.

Diana came for the afternoon study and kept Iris company. Iris’s mood had lifted considerably since her arrival, even her confidence seemed to rise along with her ability to manipulate her Influence, though I couldn’t claim anything about her conversation skills. Even with someone of the same sex and around the same age, she was as dry as a sun-cursed log.

No matter how Diana tried to engage her, Iris only responded with slight nods, speaking only when absolutely necessary. During all that, I noticed a domain of Influence flickering about the house many times.

Before I returned to my sketching, I once again had to entertain her, under the collective pressure of Mum and Magus Prisca. Well, I did learn more about the Dreamweaver path. I’d known that dream essence enhanced mental faculties and allowed one to enter the dream realm, and even weave dreams to their design.

But that wasn’t all. Iris could weave most of the elements of nature as I could. Her weaves weren’t like anything I had ever seen. It wasn’t something completely unique or complex, but to implement elemental forces with her silver essence threads, she was required to put a lot behind her spellworks.

Most of them felt like mirrored spells, replicating the elements. She could even mimic healing spells. While not as potent as those wielded by real menders with the Dawn essence, it was still extremely useful.

I couldn’t help but wonder if all Dreamweavers could manage such feats, or if it was due to her unique gift.

Without trying to be too nosy about it, I challenged her to a weave battle. Apparently, she hadn’t even heard of what it was, much less practised it.

But the rules were simple enough, and Iris was a rare genius. Despite being terrible at it at first, she absorbed all the lessons like an unused scrub. She could barely keep up in the first few rounds, relying on her superior class. But with the ability to see weaves clearly, she learned all my tricks and ploys in no time. She even implemented them with more Weight to defeat me at my own game.

But of course, my own self-esteem wouldn’t allow me to give up so easily. While she was a natural at the game, Iris lacked a cunning instinct. She only employed my own ploys against me, which made it easier for me to fool her. I would simply implement some half-baked strategy, and she’d mimic me without a thought.

The look of profound befuddlement on her face after the crashing defeat was a sight to behold.

Thankfully, she wasn’t too slow either, or it would’ve been boring to play with her. Once she learned she couldn’t simply win through sheer force, she put more effort into her weaves. She seemed to enjoy it more, too.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t go all out against her, as I had the heavy work left undone.

Leaving her to her own devices, I locked myself at my desk to draft new schemas for the painting. I came up with a few ideas, a couple of them were even good, though none of them held the same emotional value as my other two paintings.

I showed them all to Iris, describing each one in detail as I asked which she preferred. Among them were schematics of an ashhound, a crimson oracle tree, scenic views of the Candor Mountains, and even a portrait concept of hers.

Iris’s fingers drew across the paper, pausing at the crimson tree. She didn’t even look at the other papers and handed it to me.

However, just when I was beginning to ready myself for the work, I saw Mum and Magus Prisca heading to the workshop to complete the artifact commission. There was no way I’d miss a chance like this, even if I had to pull an all-nighter.

I rushed after them. "Can I observe, please?"

So far, she had deliberately kept me out whenever she crafted an artifact. But she’d once promised to let me watch next time.

Mum’s gaze flicked toward Iris. "Shouldn’t you be making the painting for Iris?"

My resolve wavered, though only by a little. "I can do it later," I said eagerly.

"Hmm, there’s no harm in that," she finally gave in. "Though I suspect it may be a bit dull for the non-crafters. Thankfully, a spatial storage shouldn’t take me a long time."

With that, the four of us descended into the underground workshop.

Mum explained that crafting a storage device was relatively straightforward compared to all the artifacts she had ever created. Only a few layers of runes were needed to make the Blessed stone function as a Spatial Storage. However, that was the minimum requirement, and it wouldn’t last more than a few years of use, on top of the limited utility.

But if she could input a few essence threads, its durability would increase dramatically, enough to last decades, if not centuries.

“What happens when the device’s durability runs out?” I asked. “I mean, what happens to the items stored inside?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Mum blinked, and even the old Magister appeared curious about the question. Only Iris was unresponsive, monocle still on her left eye. She hadn’t removed it once since she’d first put it on, keeping her Influence extended just enough to be aware of everything around her. She seemed only curious about how to implement it more effectively.

“Hah, that’s not something I’ve ever witnessed,” Mum said with a chuckle. “People usually have their fabricators repaired before they become metal scraps, but if a storage device shatters, I could hypothesise several things occurring. The best outcome—and the highest probability of happening—would definitely be the Blessed stone shattering and exploding all the items out.

“But we can’t rule out the possibility of all the items imploding into nothing, or being lost into the void. If not for Blessed stones being rare and expensive, perhaps we could’ve run some experiments with them.”

Mum shook her head in resignation and got to work. The old woman preferred a ring to a bracelet. Mum had only fashioned hers as a bracelet because it served other purposes besides simple storage.

After shaping the Blessed stone and adorning it into a silver ring, Mum released her soulward to make the work faster.

Shimmering golden letters burst into being, swirling around her palm. Under her control, their composition changed a few times before she found the right sequence and drove them all into the ring.

All that took was barely a few seconds. I barely recognised the Stabilisation and Restoration formations she carved into the gem, mostly because of how swiftly she worked and how complex the runes that came out of her soulward were in composition. Furthermore, she wasn’t using any runelines or the octagonal form.

Dozens upon dozens of micro-runes sank into the gem in a string of golden light. When she was finally done with that, she lifted her head, her irises glowing with a golden gleam.

"Now I will require a few essence threads," she said, turning to the elderly woman.

"How many?"

"Eight is the bare minimum," Mum said. "Sixty-four if you ever wanted it to be a relic, but to have all its functions work perfectly and swiftly, thirty-two would do."

"Even with sixty-four threads, only Nayan knows how many other conditions need to be met to transform it into a relic," the Magus replied. “Let’s settle it at thirty-two.”

She shut her eyes, and from her finger, fine strands of essence bloomed like silk threads unravelling in the air. Then she began plucking the threads one by one, her wrinkled face seeming even older in pain.

"Blasted gods, it’s still as agonising," she said. The thirty-two essence threads floated towards Mum, their silver shimmer dimmed almost instantly, deprived of their source. But it wasn’t the essence itself that mattered, but the structure of the thread.

Under Mum’s deft weaving, she enchanted the threads. The cool silver gradually shifted into a warm golden yellow before she designed the weave. I paid close attention to the patterns, storing them away in memory. It might come in useful one day.

As she worked, Mum spoke in her usual unhurried tone.

"Blessed stone has the natural ability to absorb and store physical objects. The problem lies in retrieving them. The runes were enough to stabilise its chaotic composition, and the threads empowered that. But that wasn’t all they did. Without the essence threads, the storage would act in a one-way line. You’d have to dump everything out to retrieve an item.

"There’s no option to choose just one item in the more archaic model. But with a few essence threads, all that can be changed. Not only that, a mindful magus could even programme the threads to appoint certain items, which could be retrieved with just a turn of their essence threads. It might not sound like much, but in a moment of life and death, even a feature as simple as this could save a life."

That made sense to my ears. What might sound complicated to outsiders was actually a careful consideration from the maker.

Imagine being in the middle of a battle, on your last breath. All you need is a healing potion to save yourself, and you have it within your storage device. But there are also dozens of other vials, tools, charms, foods, clothes, and miscellaneous other articles. You could not simply pull out everything and search on your last breath. You’d be dead twice over before you even found the right vial. That’s why it needed to be a bit more complicated.

"Here you go, Magister," Mum said, handing the newly-crafted artifact to the woman.

Everything from start to finish didn’t even take half an hour, but that wasn’t the standard for artificing. It was only possible because Mum was crazily skilled, and Blessed stone didn’t need much moulding or refinement.

"It has about ten cubic metres of space, and more pre-programmed slots than you’ll ever need.” Mum paused. “Oh, if you want a certification or appraisal, you can visit any of the artificer guilds out there. I can write one too, but you’d still need to get it approved by the guild."

"No need," the old woman chuckled. "Certifications are only necessary for selling it, and I didn’t plan on selling it. Even when I don’t have a need for it, I would pass it on to my apprentices."

"Now, for the rest of the hollow stones," Mum murmured, turning her gaze to the leftover gems laid out on the table. Her eyes shifted to me. "Pumpkin, do you want a spatial storage?"

I almost said yes on instinct, but caught myself in time. I remembered the essence threads required in its crafting and wavered. Even if they were only a handful, I didn’t want Mum stripping them away just for my sake.

She seemed to notice the hesitation, and perhaps meant to reassure me. But before she could speak, my eyes drifted to the [Band of Protection] wrapped at my wrist.

"Can you artifice the gem into the bracelet?" I asked. That would solve all the issues, wouldn’t it? She merely needed to reorganise a few of the essence threads to add the spatial function.

Mum hummed thoughtfully. "It’s possible. But I’m not sure if I should. That artifact of yours holds a high potential to become a relic. Tinkering with it might introduce variables."

"Shouldn’t a Blessed stone increase the chances?" asked the Mistweaver. "Considering its origin?"

"What origin?" I asked, turning to her.

The old crone exchanged a brief glance with Mum before answering, "Well, for one thing, they’re not of our world. Blessed stone can only be found within rifts, and even there, they’re exceedingly rare. They were also used in the Waygates."

Mum deliberated over it for a long while. "Well, let’s leave that matter for another day. Come now, it’s time for dinner."

Mum had made chicken curry along with a few vegetable side dishes and bread. Nothing grand, but meat was still a rare treat in our home. Livestock were hard to come by in the fringes of the empire, just like apples. Mum had an agreement with a fruit seller to deliver fresh apples once a week from the nearest farm.

Of course, there had been a shortage throughout the autumn, and even now the price had shot a few times over.

After dinner, I finally returned to my painting, or more precisely, to carving runes into the canvas. This time, I worked with even greater care, involving an even more intricate rune composition, perhaps trying to compensate for my earlier error.

But despite all my efforts, it didn’t come out quite as soulful as my other two pieces. It was still striking to look at, imbued with a soothing aura and the enchantment to repair damage.

The Spell named it Emberleaf, and it was of the same grade as my other two paintings.

Yet I couldn’t put it above the painting I had made for Mum. Veiled Dream lacked the refinement or complexity compared to Emberleaf, and yet that very simplicity elevated it in my mind, having a more visceral vibe about it.

But in truth, all of them—even the ones I failed miserably—were pieces born from the same place.

It was my longing for the world. And maybe, my desire to create something lasting.

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