After Kaelen's cryptic warning, Ray returned to his room in Cormorant Hall, his mind racing. His internal archetypes were unusually quiet, a sign they all agreed on the gravity of the situation.

We're in over our head

He finally admitted to himself. Between Cassian's dangerous research, Kaelen's warnings, and the growing attention from his 'heretical' methods, he was juggling too many volatile elements. He was supposed to be a child prodigy, not a player in some grand conspiracy.

Veteran: "Sometimes surviving means knowing when to hold position."

For once, Ray agreed completely. He needed to focus on getting stronger, both physically and mentally, before tackling these deeper mysteries.

The next six months passed in a blur of disciplined routine. Ray's days began before dawn with his Crucible Path training, now enhanced by the synergy with Body Tempering exercises. His progress was slow but steady; each morning, he could hold the stances a few seconds longer, channel a bit more aether, seal another microscopic leak. In his Introduction to Runic Inscription class, he progressed from simple illumination glyphs to more complex configurations. His small fingers traced the patterns with increasing confidence, each successful activation bringing a familiar chime:

[MASTERY GAIN: Precision Engraving +10%]

As he continue to learn and expand his knowledge in rune and sigils he managed to upgrade one of his innate skills

[SKILL EVOLVED: Spellcrafting (Rudimentary) upgraded to Spellcrafting (Intermediate) you can now analyze, modify, and attempt to construct simple to intermediate sigil-based spells. Your foundation has improved and your ability to innovate new forms of magic has increased.]

His studies in Basic Alchemy proved equally rewarding. Ray found his World-Weary Healer together with the Eccentric Scholar's persona's knowledge and precision translated well to measuring ingredients and timing reactions. The familiar smell of herbs and minerals became a comfort, a reminder that not everything had to be about ancient mysteries and deadly secrets. But it was in the library where Ray truly excelled. Using his access to the senior stacks through Master Elias, he devoured advanced texts on magical theory, alchemy, and runic arrays. His Scholar persona meticulously cataloged everything, building a vast internal repository of knowledge that far exceeded his supposed age and education. Three months into this routine, the first tremors began. They were subtle at first, just slight vibrations that made the crystal chandeliers tinkle and rippled the surface of water in glasses. They occurred only once or twice a month, and most students dismissed them as normal geological activity. Ray, however, noted them carefully in his journal, a habit from his past life that proved useful for pattern recognition.

When his twelfth birthday arrived in the fourth month, Ray was surprised by how much he had changed. His once-gaunt frame had filled out with lean muscle from the Crucible Path and Body Tempering. His ash-blonde hair now had more distinct golden streaks than there was before, and his grey eyes held a quiet confidence that came from genuine progress rather than mere acting. The celebration was small but meaningful, held in Master Elias's cluttered study. Rina had somehow convinced the kitchen staff to provide a proper feast, complete with honey cakes. Eliza Vance brought a set of expensive inks in jewel tones,

"For when you want your runes to be pretty as well as impossible."

Cassian gifted him a leather-bound journal with a clever lock of his own design. Master Elias, in his characteristic absent-mindedness, gave him three different books, having forgotten which one he had intended to give. The empty chair he'd reserved for Kaelen remained conspicuously vacant throughout the celebration. Yet rather than feeling disappointed, Ray felt a warm satisfaction as he looked around at his small but growing circle of allies. These people knew different versions of him, the prodigy, the heretic mage, the dedicated assistant, but each relationship was built on something real, even if filtered through necessary deceptions. As they shared stories and laughter over honey cakes, Ray realized he had unconsciously built something he never had in his past life: a family of choice. The thought both comforted and terrified him, knowing that every connection was also a potential vulnerability.

When the party ended and his friends had gone, Ray stood at his usual window in Cormorant Hall, watching the moons rise over Solhaven. His system displayed his current status: his Constitution had improved, his Aetheric Leak had stabilized at a manageable level, and his magical knowledge had expanded exponentially. He was stronger, more capable, and better positioned than ever before. Yet as another faint tremor rippled through the building, barely noticeable but definitely there, Ray couldn't shake the feeling that all of this progress was just preparation for something much bigger coming their way.

The quiet of the room was a luxury Ray had only recently come home to his accommodation at Cormorant Hall after his small birthday celebration. He was left alone with his thoughts and the silent, ever-present hum of the system. He picked up the silver Scholar's Medallion from his desk, its cool weight a constant reminder of his precarious position. He closed his eyes, focusing his intent.

[ACADEMIC MARKS: 6,342]

The number glowed in his mind’s eye. Six months of a generous stipend from Master Elias, doing the commission boards, minus the cost of alchemy supplies, runic materials, additional room for Rina and the daily expenses that he and Rina now enjoyed without constant anxiety. It was a fortune. More than his family had seen in years. Ray decided to still stay in the Cormorant Hall as he liked the peacefulness and being prudent with their budget.

"It’s a buffer,"

The Conman’s voice supplied, smooth as polished silver.

"Security, but more than that, it’s a tool.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Leverage, don’t just sit on it, kid, make it work for you."

Ray agreed, but the financial security only highlighted his other, more fundamental deficits. He dismissed the financial ledger and called up a different screen, the one that truly mattered.

[HOST STATS]

[Strength: 9 / (Peer Average: 12)]

[Stamina: 10 / (Peer Average: 14)]

[Constitution: 7 / (Peer Average: 12)]

[Current Status: Aetheric Leak (Minor). Life-force is now being lost at a rate of 0.15% per day]

[Life-Force Capacity: 8 / (Peer Average: 14)]

[Sealant Efficacy: 10% (Degrading)]

The numbers were a testament to half a year of agonizing, relentless work. His Constitution had risen by two whole points, his Strength and Stamina inching their way up from pathetic to merely subpar. The leak in his life-force had been patched and repatched, the efficiency loss dropping from critical to merely problematic. He was no longer actively dying. But he wasn't truly living, either.

"The numbers are still shit,"

The Grizzled Veteran grunted in his head, his tone laced with contempt.

"You’ve gone from a twig to a slightly thicker twig."

"In a real fight, against a trained opponent, you’d still be on the ground in five seconds."

"All this work, and you’re still a liability."

The Veteran was right. The synergy with Body Tempering was a significant boost, but it was like trying to fill a reservoir that has leaks on it. The progress was linear, predictable, and agonizingly slow. He was keeping pace with his own decay, but not outpacing it. To truly heal, to become strong enough to face the threats he knew were gathering, he needed more. A catalyst. An accelerant. A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Young master Ray?"

It was Rina calling out to him.

"Come in, Rina."

She entered, closing the door quietly behind her. Her Steward's Crest was polished, her posture confident. The nervous girl from Greywood Keep was gone, replaced by a calm, observant operative. She held a small, folded piece of parchment.

"My report."

Rina tried to hand Ray the parchment, but Ray gestured for her to speak instead. Her verbal summaries were often more valuable, filled with the nuance her new skills allowed her to perceive.

"The tremors are the main topic of conversation everywhere,"

She began, her voice low and even.

"From the kitchens to the mews, another one was felt this afternoon, stronger this time."

"The junior staff of the academy and professors and the servants of the students are getting nervous, they're making charms and whispering about earth-spirits."

"And the senior staff?"

Ray asked. Rina’s eyes narrowed slightly, a sign she was accessing the core of her intelligence.

"That's the strange part, I spent time near the senior staff common room, helping serve wine."

"The professors are talking too, but it’s all… a dead end."

"One professor insists it's a geological survey issue, another professor thinks it's something from the deep parts of the demi-plane."

"But according to the attendants who serve the headmaster and the department heads, the senior professor isn't satisfied with any of those explanations."

She leaned forward slightly.

"But here's the whisper behind the words Ray, they aren't panicked."

"They aren't forming emergency councils or doing more investigations."

"It’s a problem they acknowledge, but no one seem to be actively trying to solve it."

"It’s not a priority. And that,"

She concluded, her Information Gathering skill giving her the final piece of insight,

"it is scaring the servants of senior students and professors more than the tremors themselves."

Ray nodded slowly, his mind racing. He thanked Rina, who gave him a small, worried smile before departing to her own quarters down the hall. Alone again, Ray stared out the window, the pieces clicking into place with terrifying speed.

Detective:"The official story is a lie, the lack of urgency isn't complacency, it's concealment. They aren't scrambling for an explanation because they already have one. "

Courtier: “And it’s one they don't want anyone else to know,"

Ray’s mind flashed to a dusty, suppressed research paper. To a conversation with a nervous Cassian. To a name.

Scholar:“Master Thaddeus, catastrophic decay in the primary matrix. The tremors aren't geological, they are symptoms. The academy's heart, its power source, is failing, it's a resonance cascade, just as Thaddeus predicted."

The implications were staggering. The leadership was knowingly sitting on a time bomb, hiding the rot at the core of their perfect, self-contained world. It was the ultimate secret, the ultimate vulnerability. And for Ray, it was the ultimate opportunity. His thoughts turned back to his own failing body, to the Veteran's harsh assessment. He needed an accelerant. He needed more power to fuel the Crucible Path.

"The decay of the power source,"

The Eccentric Scholar mused, a wild, dangerous excitement in its voice. During the last six months of studying in the library and working with Master Elias he has found out that the way the demi-plane was created was through a pinnacle artifact of Institution Magic called "Genesis Crystal". This artifact is not a "found" artifact. They are manufactured. The process of making one is a state secret, known only to the highest-ranking magi of the Arcane Council in the capital city of Luminis. It is said to take decades, requiring dozens of the most powerful mages to work in perfect unison, weaving complex sigils and enchantments into the heart of a specially grown, flawless crystal the size of a carriage. The process is incredibly dangerous and astronomically expensive, which is why only a handful of them exist, one for each of the great academies and a few more for the kingdom's most secure strategic locations.

"What is decay, in magical terms?"

"An uncontrolled release of energy. Unstable. Chaotic."

"Raw Aether, bleeding from possibly the crystal's wounds!"

A cold thrill shot down Ray’s spine. The tremors weren't just a political secret. They were a power source. A wild, untamed river of the very energy he was painstakingly trying to sip from the air around him. It was poison to the untrained, a cataclysm waiting to happen. But for him? For a body uniquely designed to absorb and process Aether? It was the catalyst he had been looking for. His objective, once hazy, now sharpened into crystalline focus. He had to find the source. He couldn't just rely on the faint, surface-level tremors. He had to get closer. If possible he needed to see this Genesis Crystal find its wound and observe it as it might give him insights on how to fix his own aetheric leak.