Gio closed the "Magical Origins and Original Magics" text. The Labyrinths, the fractured empires, the perpetual war—he had a framework for the world. Now, he needed to understand his weapon, or rather, his lack of one.
He needed a foundational text on Mana Accumulation. Wyatt's diary had made it clear: his mana flow was garbage, and his accumulation—the size of his battery—was abysmal.
Gio quickly skimmed the messy desktop, pushing aside scrolls and notes until he found a heavier, older-looking volume bound in cracked leather: "Accumulating Mana throughout the ages." The title suggested history, but history often contained the methods forgotten by modernity.
He opened the book, his eyes instantly locking onto relevant sections. The text mostly detailed the tedious, gradual meditation techniques used by modern mages, which required years of practice—time Gio didn't have.
Then, he found a passage detailing older, more aggressive methods:
The Old Ways and the Void
The text confirmed that the earlier generations of humans primarily raised their mana accumulation levels not through meditation, but through the consumption of magical creatures and herbs. This process was effective, fast, but noted that it carried a significant risk of mutations and corruption.
Gio absorbed this data point: a potential, aggressive path to physical power, albeit a risky one.
He flipped the page, landing on a section labeled 'Extreme Methods and Aetheric Heresy.' The language immediately shifted from academic to cautionary.
The book mentioned a method only as a solemn warning: Void Delving.
Void Delving is an unsanctioned, suicidal technique practiced exclusively by cultists of the unknown. The corruption associated with this practice is absolute and impossible to avoid. Practitioners claim they visit an Eldritch being and are shown the 'truth of the world,' but they are invariably driven mad.
Known Symptoms: Mental instability, taking to oneself, loss of hair, self-harm, harm of others, and new limbs or tentacles.
Key Warning Sign: Users of this method have consistently stated that the true color of the universe is acid green.
If you suspect anyone of practicing this method, inform the Inquisition Squad at once and do not, under any circumstances, confront them.
Gio's fingers tightened on the spine of the book. The air seemed to chill.
The Eldritch being. The acid green color. The mental instability.
He was a walking compendium of the Academy's most wanted heretic profile. His entire journey, his violent rebirth and dream, had been an accidental, traumatic Void Delve. The horrifying vision, the temporary madness, the geometric colors in his eyes, and the chilling scar on his chest—all confirmed the textbook's most dire warning.
And the self-harm?
He glanced down at the old, deliberate scars on Wyatt's forearms. Had Wyatt, in his desperation, already begun to dabble with this heretical knowledge before the summoning?
Gio gently closed the book. He wasn't just a failure of the R.I.S.; he was a ticking bomb of magical heresy, marked by the Void itself. His need for concealment had just escalated from mere academic failure to avoiding torture and execution at the hands of the Inquisition Squad.
Gio ignored the unsettling dread left by the "Void Delving" passage and the immediate threat of the Inquisition. His focus reasserted itself: address the core flaw.
To survive, he needed to stop being magically useless. That meant finding a way to understand and improve his Mana Accumulation.
He resisted the impulse to reach for the more practical spell-casting textbooks, knowing that without mana, they were useless. Instead, he scoured the pile of disorganized notes for anything related to meditation—the slow, reliable path to power.
After an exhaustive search through all the published texts available in Wyatt's room, he found nothing useful. Modern meditation was a highly personalized, esoteric practice that defied simple instruction. Just as he was about to give up, his hand brushed against a small, coil-bound notebook, clearly not a textbook but a journal supplement.
Wyatt's Personal Practice
The notes were handwritten by Wyatt, detailing his own private practice. Unlike the theory books, these steps seemed to "click and lock into place" even more firmly in Gio's mind, a direct benefit of the soul fusion.
The process, simplified for self-instruction, was:
Inhalation: Drawing in ambient magic (Mana).
Compression: Concentrating the Mana into a usable form.
Filtering: Removing impurities (risking quicker accumulation).
Circulation: Moving the purified Mana through all major body pathways.
Dispersion and Permutation: Storing the Mana not in a dantian (as Gio had suspected), but directly in muscle and bone.
Gio absorbed the implications instantly.
This was why high-level mages possessed superhuman levels of strength and extended lifespans—magic storage was literally integrated into their physical biology. Conversely, overuse led to physical exhaustion and, worst case, organ failure.
The notes stressed that Accumulation exercises were like increasing the size of one's bucket. One could refill it quickly with ambient Mana if in a rush, but then one had to accept the impurities (risk of corruption).
Gio, driven by a desperate need to immediately test the method, pushed the notebook aside. He dropped into a cross-legged position on the bed.
He began the exercise:
1. Inhalation: He took a deep breath, instantly feeling the high, rich levels of ambient Mana the academy was built on. It was like breathing thick, cold water.
2. Compression: He held the breath, trying to concentrate and force the ethereal substance into a compressed, organized form. He used his will as a metophorical hammer against the ambient energy.
He failed. The ambient magic refused to condense or respond to the force of his will. Exhaling, he lost all progress.
Frustration boiled over. The logical failure of the spell-casting body was now mirrored by the physiological failure of the meditation. He tried again, and again. The method is correct, but the instrument is broken.
Out of sheer desperation, he abandoned the physical body's limitation. He reached up, with his physical hands, but with his soul.
His ethereal soul-arms slipped from the flesh and blood arms that went limp onto the bed. This was not a controlled magical act, but an instinctive, desperate exertion of his pure will—a residual, chaotic technique from the Void.
His soul-hands plunged into the ambient Mana. Here, outside the frail physical channels, his will had absolute authority. The energy compressed, twisting obediently into a focused mass under the invisible molding of his will.
It worked.
A wave of intense, shocked realization flooded Gio. He gasped—a reflex the physical body was not ready for.
The sound, the sudden influx of air, shocked his pure, exposed soul. The connection—the vital tether to the inert physical body—snapped.
Gio choked, and his soul slipped from the body entirely, leaving the vessel of Wyatt lying still on the bed, his life hanging by the thinnest, most fragile of threads.