The next week settled into a punishing, exhilarating rhythm. Arlan's days were a blur of lectures, Foundry work with Jax on the "Runic Compiler," grueling physical conditioning, and nightly meditation to map his spatial instability—now down to 38%. His Umbral Pool had grown to 80/80, its potency brushing against the threshold of 2nd Order. His main cultivation, however, was stuck at 1st Order, Rank 4. His D- physique was a hard ceiling, consuming mana as fast as he could gather it to repair and strengthen his body.
He spent his remaining stipend on more Ironbone Root and a new herb, Verdant Vein Moss, which strengthened meridians and improved mana circulation. His physique inched up to D. The cost was staggering. He needed merit points.
Which was why he was in the central Academy library late on a seventh-day evening, searching the mission boards for something an Arcanum 1st Order could handle that paid well. The public boards glowed with holographic requests: "Gather 10 Glowing Moss Caps from the Verdant Glade (D-Rank) - 50 MP." "Calibrate Mana-Filters in East Dormitory Wing (C-Rank - Tech) - 75 MP." Pathetic.
He needed hundreds, thousands of points to buy the resources to break through.
His personal system had been silent on the "Discover Silent Accord link" objective. He'd used Umbral Sight discreetly on every proctor he encountered. Most had clean, if powerful, auras. He'd seen the void-man operative only once more, a distant blot of nothingness watching a combat class from an observation tower.
Frustrated, he delved deeper into the library, into the sections restricted to Arcanum Cohort members. The air grew colder, the light dimmer. Here, the knowledge was less about technique and more about forbidden truths. "On the Nature of Demonic Pacts." "Geographies of the Sundered Hells." "Taxonomy of Extradimensional Entities."
And then, a title caught his tech-savant eye: "Sympathetic Resonance & Systemic Exploitation: A Treatise on Universal System Sub-Processes." It was an old, leather-bound book, not a data-slate. He pulled it from the shelf.
As he did, a voice, soft and laced with a strange, melodic huskiness, spoke from the next aisle over. "I wouldn't. That one's annotated by a madman. His notes in the margins suggest using a focused soul-scream to crash localized system functions. It's… messy."
Arlan turned. The speaker was a girl, perhaps his age, leaning against a shelf. She was strikingly beautiful in a way that was slightly off. Her skin was pale as moonlight, her hair a cascade of deep burgundy. Her eyes were a luminous, hypnotic amber, but in their depths, he caught a fleeting ring of crimson. She wore the standard cadet uniform, but it was accessorized with delicate silver chains holding tiny vials of dark liquid and dried herbs. Her aura was the most complex he'd ever seen with Umbral Sight.
It was a swirling, layered thing. A base of deep, velvety purple—witchcraft, old and potent. Overlaying it were threads of vital, predatory crimson—vampiric essence. And weaving through both was a strong, silver current of… healing magic? A contradiction. Her cultivation was solid 2nd Order, Rank 3. But the quality of her energy was dense, ancient, and strangely nourishing.
A half-vampire, half-witch. An impossible blend. Another weirdo.
"Messy can be informative," Arlan replied, closing the book but not putting it back. "You've read it?"
"I read everything in this section," she said, pushing off the shelf. She moved with a predator's grace and a scholar's quietness. "It's where they put the things that break people's minds. Safer for everyone. I'm Selene."
"Arlan."
"The spatial freak. I know." She smiled, revealing perfectly normal, if slightly sharp, canines. "I watched your duel with the Stellarae princess. You fight like a cornered animal who's read too many tactical manuals. It was quite the show."
Her directness was disarming. There was no malice in her assessment, only keen interest. "And you?" he asked. "What brings a vampire-witch to the madman's aisle?"
Her amber eyes gleamed. "The same thing as you, I suspect. Understanding the rules so you can learn how to break them. My… heritage comes with certain systemic complications. The Universal System doesn't quite know how to categorize a being who draws power from blood, moonlight, and primordial curses. It keeps trying to assign me a 'Vampire Spawn' or 'Hedge Witch' class. Both are insultingly incomplete." She nodded to the book in his hand. "That author was a fool, but he was right about one thing: the System is a network of interconnected processes. Stress one point, and you can create feedback loops. Gain temporary administrative privileges, so to speak."
Arlan's mind lit up. Systemic exploitation. Administrative privileges. This was the language he understood. "Have you succeeded?"
Selene's smile turned secretive. "Let's say I've convinced the system on three occasions that my 'Sanguine Siphon' ability is a benign 'Life-Force Transfer for Medical Stabilization.' Saved me a lot of trouble with the ethics proctors." She looked him up and down, her gaze analytical. "Your body is a leaky bucket. You're buying herbs, but it's not enough. You need a catalyst."
He didn't deny it. "Do you have a suggestion? Or just observation?"
"I have a proposal." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "There's a mission. Not on the public boards. An Arcanum-only retrieval. In the Whispering Catacombs beneath the old alchemy wing. A Ghost-Cap Mushroom is predicted to fruit tonight at the dark moon's zenith. It's a Grade-2 spiritual treasure. It doesn't just strengthen the body; it forcibly aligns the meridians with one's primary affinity, acting as a cultivation catalyst. One mushroom is worth 500 merit points, or a massive boost to someone at your stage."
Ghost-Cap. He'd read about it. Rare, ephemeral, grew in places of concentrated death and residual mana. "What's the catch? Why isn't it swarmed?"
"Three catches," Selene said, counting on slender fingers. "First, the Catacombs are a labyrinth, and the mushroom only appears in one specific, shifting chamber. You need someone who can… sense the confluence of death and magic." She tapped her chest. "Witch. Second, the mushroom is guarded by Spectral Mold—a semi-sentient fungus that feeds on mana and induces paralyzing hallucinations. It's weak to purifying light and… sustained sonic disruption." She smiled. "My companion, Blythe, has a resonance affinity. She can handle the mold."
"Third?" Arlan asked, his caution warring with the tantalizing reward.
"Third, the Catacombs are technically off-limits. Not forbidden, just… discouraged. The mission is posted on the discreet Arcanum board. We need a third. Someone who can deal with physical contingencies. The mold isn't the only thing down there. There are… remnants. Old alchemy guardians, broken but sometimes active. Your spatial tricks, even unstable, could be useful for creating barriers, disrupting their formations."
She was recruiting him. For an illegal, high-reward mission. It stank of a trap. But his Umbral Sight, focused on her, saw no deception in her aura, only keen interest and a flicker of… loneliness? Another outlier seeking allies.
"Why me? You could find a stronger combat specialist."
"Because," she said, her crimson-ringed eyes holding his, Jax speaks highly of your systems mind. We may need to bypass some old wards."
He calculated. High risk. High reward. A chance to breakthrough. An opportunity to work with others, to build… not friendships, but alliances. Assets.
"When?" he asked.
"Midnight. Meet at the service entrance to the old alchemy wing. Wear dark clothes. Bring any tech or tools you have." She turned to leave.
With that, she melted into the deeper shadows of the library, her unique aura fading from his senses.
Arlan stood holding the madman's book. His personal system chimed.
```
[New Opportunity Detected: Covert Retrieval - Ghost-Cap Mushroom]
[Risk Assessment: High. Reward: Extreme.]
[Potential Allies Gained: Selene (Witch/Vampire Hybrid), Blythe (Resonance Adept).]
[Potential Enemy Attention: Moderate.]
[Decision Point: Accept? (Y/N)]
```
He didn't hesitate. He needed the power. He needed to move. And he needed to understand the other players on this twisted board.
He selected Yes.
The countdown to midnight began.
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