As Cedar stepped into the dimly lit room with Ivan, the faint glow from the orange goggles resting on his face gave him an enigmatic air. The three magical rings adorning his fingers and the silver cross earring on his left ear only added to the strange, almost surreal look he now carried.
The mismatched assortment of items seemed unconventional, yet Cedar had instinctively equipped them the moment they left the shop, eager to sense their effects firsthand.
Len's towering figure materialized before them, his crimson gaze sharp and penetrating. He didn't speak immediately, his attention fixed on the earring dangling from Cedar's ear.
A faint glint of recognition danced in his eyes.
"You've already put it on," Len remarked, his voice a low, deliberate rumble. "Good. Then this lesson will be worth something."
Cedar stiffened, his posture unconsciously straightening as Len's words carried a weight that demanded focus. Ivan, standing beside him, remained silent but watchful, his curiosity evident in the way his eyes darted between Len and the earring.
"Bloody vessels," Len began, his tone almost reverent, "were the pinnacle of our attempts to create the ultimate weapon. We vampires sought something loyal, something that could evolve and grow stronger with bloodshed. A tool that relied neither on unreliable allies nor the limitations of mere materials. What we created... was perfection—though perfection always comes at a cost."
He gestured toward Cedar's earring, his gaze unwavering. "Before the vessels, we experimented with two prototypes: demon artifacts and unholy gear"
"The demon artifacts were powerful, crafted by binding demons into weapons through contracts—some made willingly, others through force. Their strength was undeniable, but they were flawed. Demons are cunning creatures, and their loyalty was as fleeting as their tempers. At best, they served until an opportunity arose to betray. At worst, they simply turned on us outright."
Len's expression darkened slightly, a trace of frustration flickering across his features.
"And so, we turned to the second approach—unholy gear. Unlike demon artifacts, these were lifeless weapons imbued with a form of vitality. They grew stronger through bloodshed, absorbing power from the lives they took. But without true sentience, their growth was agonizingly slow. Even for immortals like us, they were far too limited."
His gaze dropped to the silver cross hanging from Cedar's ear.
"That earring," he said, his voice taking on a harder edge, "is an unholy gear. It was created to devour strength from blood, to grow stronger with each battle. Yet after centuries of starvation, it has become weak—dormant. For now."
Cedar glanced at the small, unassuming earring. It pulsed faintly, almost imperceptibly, as if awakening from a long slumber. There was something unsettling yet familiar about it—a hunger buried beneath its silence.
Len stepped closer, his presence oppressive, yet his words carried a dark clarity.
"Your goal is not to feed it or nurture it, as others might. No, Cedar. You are a bloody vessel—a weapon designed to take, to evolve, and to consume. That earring is not your ally. It is your prey."
The earring was not an artifact to be wielded—it was a stepping stone, a source of power he would one day claim.
"But you're not ready," Len continued, his piercing gaze locking onto Cedar.
"Right now, you're too weak to fully consume its magic. It will remain dormant, biding its time, as you grow. When you reach the fifth circle in your human system, then—and only then—will you be strong enough to devour it."
He stepped back, his expression softening ever so slightly.
"Until then, carry it with you. Allow it to acclimate to your blood, to your presence. The closer it becomes to you, the easier the eventual absorption will be. This is not just a piece of unholy gear, Cedar. It is part of your destiny, a piece of the bloody vessel you were meant to become."
Ivan's brow furrowed as he listened, his intrigue evident in the way his gaze lingered on the earring.
Cedar, however, remained silent, his thoughts racing. The revelation of his nature—a weapon, not merely a mage—sent a ripple of purpose through him. Every battle, every drop of blood spilled, would forge him into something greater.
Breaking the silence, Len shifted the conversation. "Now that we have time, it's time you make good use of the mana core you collected." With a subtle motion, Len summoned the core into the dream space.
The mana core floated in front of Cedar, ominous yet captivating. It was no longer drenched in blood as it had been when Cedar pulled it from the Imperium officer's lifeless body, but the black stormy cloud swirling inside was as menacing as ever—a testament to the power it contained.
Ivan stared at the core with curiosity. It wasn't every day one saw a mage core floating in exposed air.
Cedar's gaze lingered on it, his mind swirling with thoughts. Thanks to his time with Howser, he now understood far more about the circle system than the fragmented and rushed teachings he had received during training camp.
For most mages, advancing through the first three circles was relatively straightforward—though not without effort. However, reaching the peak of the third circle brought an entirely new challenge.
Creating the fourth circle wasn't a simple matter of gathering more mana. The pressure on the mana core during the process was immense. Without proper preparation, the newly formed circle would collapse, shattering the core and inflicting irreversible damage.
Worst of all, such failures often resulted in a mana outbreak. The infamous catastrophic event occurred when uncontrolled mana surged through a mage's body, wreaking havoc internally as the core collapsed.
Many ambitious mages had met their end chasing the rank of elite mage, only to have their mana core shattered under the strain.
To avoid this fate, a ritual was required—one that demanded precision, focus, and profound understanding. This ritual was the gateway to becoming an elite mage, a rank that granted access to complex magic.
Unlike basic spells, which could be cast instinctively, complex magic required chanting. Even the most skilled mages could only shorten such chants to two words at best.
Here lay the paradox: to become an elite mage, one needed to demonstrate the ability to wield complex magic. But to cast complex magic in its full form, one had to already be an elite mage.
The solution wasn't full mastery of complex magic but a proto version of it—a stripped-down, imperfect version of the spell. This proto-magic was weaker than the original or came with severe limitations.
To break through, a mage needed to learn this proto-magic and, more importantly, develop the ability to multiclass—casting multiple spells simultaneously.
The ritual itself was grueling. A mage had to maintain constant concentration, controlling every existing circle within their mana core.
Using a special method, they would construct the framework for the new circle. Near the final stage of the process, they would carve the learned proto-magic directly into their core.
This carving was the most perilous step. Any mistake would destabilize the process, risking collapse.
Success, however, resulted in the stabilization of the new circle. The mana core would ascend, evolving into a higher form. The carved magic would remain permanently etched into the core, a mark of the mage's advancement.
This carved magic became a powerful asset. Unlike ordinary spells, it could be cast without chanting and had far greater potency. Furthermore, the nature of the carved magic influenced the mage's growth. It enhanced their talent for similar types of magic and granted a unique advantage when casting spells of the same kind.
For example, the Imperium officer's core, marked by the swirling black cloud, likely contained a weather-based spell. This would have amplified his ability to control weather and thunder magic, granting him an edge both in learning and casting such spells.
Normally, mage cores were used as ingredients for magical artifacts or as a source of raw mana for constructions like magical cannons or town barriers. Yet Cedar could already sense what was coming.
"Similar to the Magloth," Len began, his tone calm yet commanding, "by absorbing this core, you can gain insight into the enemy's knowledge while strengthening your own. Since you extracted it intact rather than draining it directly, you should still be able to learn part of the carved magic within."
Cedar's mind flashed back to the battlefield, to the overwhelming power the Imperium officer had displayed.
Unlike Cedar, the officer had lacked close-combat skills, which was typical for mages. Even in the chaos of war, mages relied on their spells rather than physical prowess.
Cedar, on the other hand, had poor talent in magic and had compensated with rigorous combat training. His survival on the battlefield often hinged on his precise, deadly, and instinctive movements.
The thought of incorporating black thunder magic into his close-combat techniques was intoxicating. For a moment, he felt a surge of invincibility, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Arrogance was a death sentence on the battlefield.
But a question lingered in his mind.
How?
"How am I supposed to absorb it?" Cedar asked, his gaze shifting between Len and the ominous core. "Am I... supposed to eat it?"
Ivan, who had been silent until now, burst out laughing. "Pwah! Eat it?!"
Len didn't even glance at Ivan, his expression remaining calm.
Instead, he extended a hand toward the core. An invisible pressure filled the air, and the core began to shrink, condensing smaller and smaller until it was no larger than a marble.
With a snap of his fingers, Len sent the core hurtling toward Cedar. Before he could react, it flew straight into his throat.