Evan returned to his tent with a heavy, contemplative air. The confrontation had shown him more than he anticipated—not just about the dangers of his power, but about its potential. He felt no regret about defending himself, but the incident highlighted a glaring issue: his lack of understanding about the sheer force his magic could unleash. His mind replayed the fight, each moment dissected through the lens of simulate. The power of his Ember Engine was undeniable, but it needed control.
He didn't fear the power; he respected it. And now, he was determined to master it.
The incident had also left him curious. Both his Flame Spark and the smoke attack he had improvised shared a peculiar trait: they were naturally spherical. The fireballs he conjured and the dense clouds of ash all seemed to form in perfect orbs. As he sat cross-legged in his tent, sketching runes and formulas in his notebook, Evan began to piece together why.
"Why does everything default to a sphere?" he murmured, his pencil tapping against the edge of the page. His nucleus pulsed faintly, feeding him insights through simulate. The answer wasn't immediate, but fragments began to form in his mind.
Over the next several hours, Evan ran countless experiments, alternating between simulate and small-scale tests with his Ember Engine. He tweaked the subproducts feeding into his magic, observing how changes in proportion or alignment affected the shape of his attacks. Patterns emerged, and he began to isolate the factors that made his magic spherical.
The first was density. The tighter he condensed the subproducts, the more stable the magic became. This natural compression forced the energy into a spherical shape, which was inherently the most stable structure for containing power.
The second was balance. When the subproducts fed into the spell evenly, the energy naturally distributed itself across all directions, reinforcing the sphere's stability.
The third was flow cohesion. The subproducts didn't simply sit in the sphere—they moved, swirling within it like a miniature storm. This internal motion reinforced the circular shape, creating a self-sustaining cycle.
The fourth was ignition symmetry, a term Evan coined to describe how the fire or smoke spread from a central point. The ignition naturally expanded outward, creating a uniform burn that reinforced the spherical structure.
With these insights, Evan decided to name his creations. The fiery orbs, which had already proven devastating, he called Spheres of Flame. The swirling clouds of smoke and ash became Spheres of Ash. Naming them gave him a sense of ownership over his magic, a way to refine his understanding and solidify their place in his arsenal.
But the naming also brought clarity to their limitations. The Spheres of Ash, for example, were effective for disorienting enemies, but they dissipated too quickly and required significant amounts of energy to maintain. They also lacked precision—while the smoke covered a wide area, it was difficult to control exactly where it spread.
Evan set his sights on addressing these flaws. He sketched diagrams in his notebook, experimenting with ways to enhance the Spheres of Ash.
His first focus was persistence—keeping the smoke dense and active for longer periods. By adjusting the ratio of combustion subproducts to ash-generating subproducts, he found a balance that allowed the smoke to linger without thinning out.
The second adjustment targeted directionality. Evan worked tirelessly, tweaking the flow cohesion concept, trying to guide the Spheres of Ash with precision. Yet, no matter how many simulations he ran or how many adjustments he made, the results remained inconsistent. The ash and smoke simply wouldn't respond the way he envisioned, scattering unpredictably beyond his control.
Frustration crept in as he stared at his notes. "If I can't control it through the structure," Evan muttered, "then maybe I need something else."
The thought gnawed at him. Directionality wasn't just a minor flaw; it was a fundamental limitation of the magic itself. To guide the smoke and ash with the precision he wanted, Evan realized he might need an entirely different spell—a magic specifically designed for directional control. But the prospect of learning and refining a new spell was daunting. It would demand an immense amount of time and energy, all for a gain he considered relatively small.
"No," he said to himself, shaking his head. "I can't afford that right now. I need something simpler, something I can implement quickly."
As he pondered his options, an idea began to form. If the spell itself couldn't provide the control, perhaps an external tool could. A runic item, something that could enhance his ability to direct the smoke and ash, might be the answer. The concept intrigued him: an item with inscribed runes specifically designed to interact with his Spheres of Ash. But what kind of item?
His mind raced through possibilities, eventually landing on a practical choice: a ring. A ring could be worn at all times, making it a seamless extension of his magic. But as quickly as the thought came, Evan dismissed it. Inscribing runes into metal was far more difficult than carving them into stone or wood. It required specialized tools, precise techniques, and high-quality materials—all of which were beyond his current resources and skill level.
Evan sighed, leaning back against the wall of his tent. "A ring would've been perfect," he muttered. "But I don't have the means to make one."
Still, the idea of a runic item stayed with him. If not a ring, then perhaps something simpler—a wooden staff, a stone amulet, or even a set of enchanted gloves. These alternatives were easier to craft and might serve the same purpose, though none felt as intuitive as the ring.
He thought of a bracelet—one made of small wooden spheres. Perhaps he could design it so that each wooden bead bore specific runes, allowing him to activate a corresponding set of effects when needed. The simplicity of wood made it far more manageable than metal, and the spherical shape would naturally complement the Spheres of Ash and Spheres of Flame he had already developed.
Evan paused, his pencil hovering above his notebook. The bracelet idea had potential, but the more he thought about it, the more flaws he saw. A visible item like that would attract too much attention. Apprentices at the camp were always watching, and a unique piece of equipment like the bracelet could easily raise questions—or worse, provoke theft or suspicion.
"What I need is something subtle. Something hidden," he muttered.
His thoughts wandered to objects that could stay out of sight, yet remain accessible when needed. An idea struck him: a necklace or a pendant, something that could be worn under his shirt, close to his skin, where no one would notice it. A hidden tool, connected to him both physically and mentally.
Evan opened a fresh page in his notebook and began sketching. The design was simple—a small, flat wooden pendant carved from a single block of sturdy wood, attached to a thin cord that would keep it secure around his neck. The pendant would be rectangular or circular, small enough to sit comfortably against his chest, and thick enough to hold several runic layers.
The beauty of the design was its versatility. He could inscribe multiple runes on the pendant, each designed to augment his magic in a different way. The proximity to his body would make it easy to activate with subtle gestures or mental focus, and wearing it under his shirt would ensure it remained concealed.