He took the two distinct runes—one for infinite circulation, one for structural recognition—and forcefully overlaid them in the air. He merged them.
It wasn't a clean, elegant fusion. It was a forced, heavily engineered splice. But it was functionally sound.
The newly forged, dual-layered rune moved slowly toward the waiting black sword.
Contact.
Silence.
Then—
The heavy blade reacted. Not violently this time. Not with an explosive rejection or a grinding hum.
It reacted deeply.
A low, resonant, almost musical hum vibrated through the air of the Vault. The glowing, complex dual-rune sank effortlessly into the dark metal of the blade, sliding beneath the rust and the dirt, embedding itself directly into the magical circuitry of the weapon.
And it stayed.
Lencar observed the blade for a full minute, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Nothing happened. The sword remained stable.
"The structural integration of the sword has stabilized."
Now—came the real test.
Lencar raised his left hand, his index finger extended. A small, tightly controlled spell formed at his fingertip. It was a basic, highly compressed sphere of wind magic. A simple, predictable mana construct.
"Let's test it's absorption ability."
He flicked his wrist, directing the small wind spell straight toward the flat of the hovering blade.
The Demon Dweller Sword reacted instantly. The anti-magic flared.The spell touched the cold metal—
And vanished entirely.
But this time—something was fundamentally, wonderfully different.
Lencar's pale eyes narrowed slightly behind his mask, his sensory magic flared to its absolute limit.
"This time it wasn't erased."
He could feel it. Deep inside the dark, oppressive void of the sword. There was a faint, lingering trace. The raw kinetic energy of the spell had been cancelled, yes, but the structure of the wind spell remained. It had been mapped by the new rune and stored within the loop.
It was incomplete—a ghostly echo of the original magic—but it was undeniably present.
"The Hypothesis is confirmed."
Lencar stepped closer, the thrill of discovery pushing away his fatigue.
"Now next testing session."
He formed another, far more complex spell. A dense, swirling drill of earth and wind magic intertwined. He launched it directly at the sword.
The blade absorbed it effortlessly.
This time—the internal reaction within the weapon was significantly stronger. The stored structure of the spell became much clearer to Lencar's senses. It was more defined, less ghostly.
"It's retention resolution is improving."
But then—the heavy black sword began to violently tremble. A high-pitched, warning whine emanated from the metal. The internal structures stored within the loop began rapidly destabilizing, fighting against each other.
"It's capacity limits is exceeded this time."
With a soft, muffled popping sound, the stored spells entirely collapsed, dissipating into nothingness. The sword returned to its empty baseline.
"It has reached it's upper limit ."
Lencar exhaled quietly, a plume of breath escaping the mask.
"So there is a strict threshold. It can only hold so much raw data before the anti-magic overrides the loop and cleans the slate."
It was not an unexpected result. Infinite storage was a myth. But—the threshold was now known and confirmed.
He didn't hesitate. He mentally reached into the blade and adjusted the integrated rune again. He heavily reinforced the secondary storage layer and expanded the circumference of the internal loop, allocating more "memory" to the system.
"Now for the third iteration."
The rune smoothly modified itself within the sword. The structure adapted to the new parameters.
Lencar paused, taking a slow, deep breath.
Then—he made a final decision.
"It has passed the full stress test."
He stepped forward and placed his bare, bruised hand directly onto the heavy, rust-caked hilt of the Demon Dweller Sword.
He didn't pull anti-magic out. He pushed his own magic in.
Stage 3 Peak mana flowed rapidly from his core, down his arm, and directly into the weapon. It was steady. It was controlled.
The sword reacted immediately. The modified loop activated. The massive influx of Lencar's mana entered the blade—
And it did not disperse. It wasn't erased.
It stayed.
The mana circulated rapidly through the internal geometry of the blade, compressing and tightening with every loop. It was being actively, securely stored.
Lencar observed the weapon's physical state carefully.
"It is stable."
For now.
He increased his output slightly, pouring more of his vast reserves into the hilt. More mana flowed. The sword hummed much louder now, vibrating slightly in his grip, but it still did not reject the energy.
"The tolerance is within acceptable limits."
He stopped the flow, severing the connection from his core.
The sword remained perfectly still in his hand. But inside the dark metal—a massive, highly pressurized reserve had formed. It was stored, kinetic energy. It wasn't the natural anti-magic of the blade. It wasn't the original power of the elves.
But it was contained. It was a loaded gun.
Lencar lifted the heavy sword slightly, pointing it toward the empty, white expanse of the vault.
"Releasing the Mana inside of it now."
He swung the blade once, a sharp, horizontal arc.
SWISH.
A massive, crescent-shaped slash of highly compressed, roaring Stage 3 mana shot forward from the edge of the blade. It tore through the air, traveling hundreds of yards before finally dissipating.
It was significantly faster, infinitely denser, and far more structurally stable than any ranged attack Lencar had previously managed to produce with the raw anti-magic.
"It is highly successful."
But that wasn't the true, ultimate objective of this entire late-night engineering session. Firing back his own mana was a parlor trick.
Lencar's gaze sharpened, turning cold and deeply analytical.
"Now for the final phase."
He needed more data. He needed external, foreign data to prove the true value of the upgrade.
He turned slowly, looking across the vast white room.
His eyes locked onto Garrick, who was still deeply unconscious, snoring softly on his cot.
"He should be a good target."
Lencar extended his empty left hand toward the sleeping smuggler. A tiny, nearly invisible, gossamer thread of sensory mana reached out across the room, gently touching Garrick's resting body.
Then—Lencar actively engaged the new rune within the Demon Dweller Sword.
The connection formed. It was weak, slightly unstable due to the distance, but it was undeniably present.
Deep within Garrick's recovering core, the newly expanded, heavy, tar-like Cursed Water mana reacted faintly to the tug.
The black sword in Lencar's hand responded.
A very small, entirely harmless portion of the smuggler's overflowing, recovering mana was gently siphoned across the connection.
It wasn't stolen violently, causing pain. It wasn't forced out of the man's meridians.
It was simply drawn, like water moving downhill.
The dark, toxic mana flowed into the blade. And because of the new rune, it was immediately mapped, stored, and contained within the loop. The rusted edge of the sword took on a faint, sickeningly dark, oily sheen.
Lencar observed the reaction closely.
"The compatibility with external mana is confirmed now."
He severed the connection to Garrick immediately. There was no need to push further and accidentally drain the man dry. For now, the proof of concept was enough.
The sword stabilized in his grip once again.
But inside the weapon—it was no longer just holding raw, generic kinetic energy. Traces of complex structure remained perfectly preserved within the loop. Fragments of Garrick's advanced Cursed Water magic were actively circulating inside the anti-magic blade.
It was incomplete. He couldn't cast Abyssal Rot Tide with the sword. But it was entirely usable data.
Lencar looked down at the blade, a massive, victorious smile spreading beneath his mask.
"Spell data retention is successful."
He glanced over at his floating Logoless Grimoire. Because the sword was holding the raw, structural data of the spell, Lencar's grimoire was already beginning to react, analyzing the trapped magic, preparing to rapidly assimilate it.
"Partial reconstruction of foreign (new) spells is now possible without requiring direct, prolonged grimoire contact."
A faint pause as he fully realized the implications.
"Replication efficiency has increased."
He slowly lowered the heavy black sword, letting it hover in the air once more.
The long, grueling experiment was an absolute success.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't complete. There was still a strict capacity limit, and the dual-layered rune required constant, minor upkeep to prevent the anti-magic from eventually eroding it.
But—it was highly functional.
The Demon Dweller Sword had fundamentally changed. It was no longer just a blunt instrument of cancellation.
Now, in the hands of the Heretic, it could:
Cancel and erase incoming spells.
Actively store and highly compress allied mana.f
Retain detailed, structural fragments of enemy spells upon contact.
And act as a direct, high-speed conduit to vastly accelerate Lencar's absolute replication process.
Lencar snapped his grimoire shut with a satisfying thud.
"Further refinement of the runes will be required later," he noted, his exhaustion finally beginning to catch up to him again. "But the foundation is complete now."
Behind him, near the perimeter of the room—
Garrick shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent about freezing water, completely oblivious to the fact that his own magical data had just been casually skimmed while he snored. He was entirely unaware of the absolute monster that had just been created a few yards away.
And far away, hundreds of miles across the continent—
Standing alone on the deck of a massive, frozen warship, bathed in the bloody light of the morning sun—
A certain Spade Kingdom mage closed his eyes, his immense mana spreading out like an invisible net across the ocean, continuing his silent, obsessive search for the phantom who had stolen his prey.