Without pause, Thundrous moved on to crafting two advanced fire scrolls—one for *Inferno Surge*, a sixth-tier spell capable of reducing cities to ash, and another for *Dancing Flame Fan*, the same spell he'd used against the griffon.
After crafting so many scrolls, he'd gained firsthand experience with a harsh truth:
*Just as Headmaster Laurent had warned him, crafting scrolls was nothing like casting spells.*
When a mage cast a spell, they used their own mana as a catalyst, drawing upon the ambient magic in the air to form the spell. Their personal reserves were merely the spark.
But scrollcraft? It *consumed* mana. Thundrous couldn't borrow from the world around him—every drop had to come from within. After four advanced scrolls, exhaustion weighed on him like lead.
If he'd simply *cast* four high-tier spells, he'd still be fresh. But crafting their scroll equivalents? A different beast entirely.
*Four should be enough for now.*
After meditating to recover, he crafted over a dozen mid-tier scrolls—mostly utility spells.
*I'm still too weak.*
His personal spell arsenal was pitiful: just three basic lightning spells. In battle, he relied on the *Heavenly Phantom Steps* for evasion and scrolls for offense. Keeping a full stock was non-negotiable.
By the time he pushed open his door, night had fallen. The entire afternoon—gone.
Summer approached. The air carried both a lingering chill and the first whispers of heat.
From the courtyard, Erik's muttering reached his ears—the boy was diligently memorizing. Stepping outside, Thundrous found the siblings hunched over a stone table, a beast-oil lamp flickering between them.
*"Why am I doing this boring crap?"* Serene groaned. *"Erik, how many have you memorized?"*
*"Fifty-something?"* Erik glanced at the chart in his hands—a copy of Tifa's meridian map. *"Seven hundred and twenty points… How long is this gonna take?"*
*"It took me a month to memorize them all,"* Thundrous said as he approached. *"Three more to pinpoint them perfectly."*
Serene's eyes lit with mischief. She'd been forced into this "magic training," and now? Payback time.
The petite menace marched up to him, chest puffed (not that there was much to puff), and jabbed a finger at his torso. *"Prove it. What's this one?"*
*"Gate of Origin."*
*"Lucky guess."* Another poke. *"This?"*
*"Shoulder Well."*
The siblings took turns jabbing him, testing every point they'd learned that afternoon.
Not once did Thundrous falter.
*"These points are just the foundation,"* he explained. *"The technique connects them in specific sequences, guiding mana along those paths. If you can't even recognize the points, forget about the technique."* He smirked. *"'Sharpen the axe before cutting the tree.' Ever heard that?"*
*"Got it."* Erik nodded eagerly.
*"Four months?!"* Serene wailed. *"I'll be an old hag by then!"*
*"There are exceptions. Women usually memorize faster—Tifa only needed two weeks."*
*"Two weeks?!"* Serene nearly bit her tongue. If Thundrous was a prodigy, what did that make Tifa? *A monster.*
(What she didn't realize? Memorizing meridians had nothing to do with magic talent. Some minds were just wired to retain.)
*"Don't force it. Take breaks when you're frustrated—come back fresh."* Thundrous glanced around. *"Where's Maria?"*
Serene looked away, sheepish. *"She… went to her room to study."*
(Maria had fled Serene's clinginess.)
*"Bro,"* Erik cut in, *"why do you still call her 'Professor'?"*
*"Habit."* Thundrous shrugged. Titles meant little to him.
After dinner, he settled the trio into guest rooms before seeking out Uncle Oak.
Earlier, the old man had mentioned brewing. Thundrous wasn't a drinker, but high-proof alcohol? Essential for perfume-making.
Oak sat in the courtyard, swapping tales with the guards. Carlos crouched nearby, slurping something from a bowl.
They all stood when Thundrous approached.
*"At ease."* He waved them off. *"Uncle, a word."*
As they walked to the cellar, Thundrous grilled him on brewing techniques. The moment they stepped inside, the rich scent of liquor enveloped them.
Unsealing a small cask, Thundrous took a sip—smooth, with a sharp bite and a lingering warmth.
*"Good stuff."* Back on Dragon-Tiger Mountain, he'd tasted similar. Never a drinker, but not opposed.
Oak beamed. *"I brewed this every year for your father. He loved it."*
*"Can we increase the alcohol content?"*
*"We can, but this is already strong. Any higher, and most folks couldn't handle it."* Oak eyed him. *"Since when do you drink?"*
*"I don't."* Thundrous' head swam. *"I just need high-proof stock. As much as possible."*
*"I'll start a new batch tomorrow."*
*"Good. Highest proof you can manage."* His tongue felt thick. The room tilted—
*Thud.*
*"Young master?!"* Oak lunged forward as Thundrous hit the floor.
*"You're a lightweight!"*
**Will the brewing experiment end in disaster—or discovery?**