Lynn focused intently, carefully expelling the air surrounding the red phosphorus while simultaneously increasing the molecular motion to raise the temperature.
After a few seconds, wisps of white vapor began to emerge, coalescing under the constraint of his magic, then swiftly cooling and solidifying into a semi-translucent yellowish powder.
This was white phosphorus.
Fully aware of its terrifying properties, Lynn dared not touch it with his hands. Holding his breath, he maintained the *Mage's Hand* spell, carefully placing the collected white phosphorus into a bag that had previously held *Embers of Red Fire*.
This storage pouch, designed specifically for magical materials, had excellent insulating properties, preventing the volatile white phosphorus from spontaneously igniting.
By the time he finished, a fine sheen of sweat had appeared on Lynn's forehead.
The intricate process was challenging for a mere wizard apprentice like Lynn. If not for the spiritual fusion he experienced during his crossing, which greatly enhanced his control over magic, this attempt might have ended in failure.
Fortunately, everything had gone as planned.
As Lynn set the storage bag aside, he shuddered at the memory of white phosphorus burning fiercely, scorching the earth in a hellish blaze.
He sincerely hoped he would never have to use it.
Having grown up in an era of peace, Lynn held life in high regard. Yet he also knew that in this cruel, otherworldly realm where life was cheap, survival meant he might have to kill or be killed.
"071," Lynn called out silently in his mind after finishing his work.
Since the forced shutdown of the intelligent brain five days ago, this had become a daily ritual.
As expected, there was no response this time either.
If not for the steady drain of his magical energy, fueling the intelligence core, Lynn might have wondered if 071 had disappeared entirely.
The intelligence core was his lifeline in this unfamiliar world. The mere ability to enhance his cognitive processing speed by linking to the neural network could help him avoid many dangers.
Not to mention, in that special state, he could convert magic into elements, casting spells without needing to prepare materials in advance.
Recalling how his mentor, Koru, cast the Second-Circle spell *Mass Ice Blades*, Lynn began to suspect that the ability to transmute magic into elements might be the key distinguishing a wizard apprentice from a full-fledged wizard.
He was certain that Carl, as an apprentice, could never have achieved this. There were no memories in his mind to suggest otherwise. It was likely that the spiritual fusion upon crossing, combined with the help of the intelligence core, had allowed him to temporarily break through this barrier...
Lynn mused as he entered a meditative state, and the wondrous elemental world unfolded before his "eyes" once again.
This time, however, his attention was drawn to the strange rune floating in his sea of consciousness.
The interior of the rune was composed of countless tiny dots and lines, arranged in a way that was both intricate and aesthetically pleasing.
Tentatively, Lynn used his mental power to touch the rune, and it instantly lit up.
In that moment, he felt a tenth of his magical energy drain away, and when he opened his eyes, a diamond-shaped *Ice Blade* hovered in his palm.
"This feels like... a spell slot."
Lynn rubbed his chin, quickly recalling the mention of spell slots in the *Elemental Analysis* book.
This ability, too, was something only full-fledged wizards possessed, allowing them to cast spells with far greater speed.
In essence, the process of creating a spell slot was similar to programming: presetting various parameters and then, when needed, simply pressing a confirmation key to output the desired result.
So the arrangement of this rune probably indicated something like: one part oxygen + two parts hydrogen + reduced molecular motion + special configuration = *Ice Blade*?
Hmm, it's surprisingly scientific!
Lynn, intrigued, experimented with a few other spells, but to his surprise, no new spell slots were formed.
After some thought, he quickly deduced the reason: to construct a corresponding spell slot, he likely needed to cast a First-Circle spell without relying on materials.
With this realization, Lynn temporarily abandoned the idea of solidifying more spell slots. Without the support of the intelligence core, he still had a long way to go to match a full-fledged wizard.
Lynn glanced out the window at the fading daylight—it was about time to meet with the other wizard apprentices...
Today was Moonday, the last day of their scheduled meeting.
...
The *Drunkard's Tavern* was located in the most bustling part of Ur Town.
Had it not been for the secret marks leading the way, Lynn would never have imagined Jonny would choose such a place for their meeting.
Seventeen coppers—the exact price of a glass of ancient Gurwine!
Is this what they call hiding in plain sight?
Lynn silently mused, but as he pushed the door open, his brows furrowed.
As a gathering place for the lower classes, the *Drunkard's Tavern* was rowdy inside. The roaring fireplace fought off the night's chill, and the less-than-hundred-square-foot space was crammed full of people. The wooden floor was soaked with alcohol and vomit, and the stench was so overpowering that it nearly made Lynn gag.
At the long table near the entrance, a drunken halfling noticed Lynn as soon as he walked in. Seeing his youth and unfamiliar face, the halfling called out with malicious intent.
"Hey, kid! How about a drink with us?"
Lynn turned, scrutinizing the drunken halfling with a curious gaze.
Halflings were a species unique to this continent, so named not because they were only half a body, but because of their diminutive stature, about half the height of an adult, resembling dwarves.
However, these were not the result of genetic defects but a distinct race in their own right. Each halfling was robustly built, their muscles seemingly a natural gift, reminiscent of dwarves from Western fantasy.
Lynn's innate curiosity as a data archivist began to stir...
Under Lynn's probing gaze, the halfling shuddered involuntarily, a chill creeping up from his feet to his heart.
Five years ago, in Nordland, he had met the notorious Headtaker Luke, a ruthless villain who took pleasure in dismembering his victims.
Lynn's gaze was eerily similar to Luke's back then, as if he were looking at a corpse awaiting dissection...