Avince remained seated on the log, his mind buzzing with the flood of new information Althiel had shared. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and looked up at the elven woman.
“Why transmogrification?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You brought it up, but I don’t see how it’s supposed to solve my problems. Does it actually help me?”
Althiel folded her arms, her expression contemplative. “Yes, it does. With the rate at which your soul is growing, your body will struggle to keep up. Casting spells, channeling mana—everything will feel more difficult because your physical vessel isn’t equipped to handle the output of your soul’s strength. You may have already experienced moments when your abilities felt like they were pushing against your limits.”
Avince nodded slowly. He had, but he hadn’t connected it to his body’s inability to cope with his soul’s growth.
“Transmogrification offers a solution,” Althiel continued. “By altering your body to better accept the flow of mana, you reduce that strain. Think of it as reshaping the container to fit the water it holds.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” Avince said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But what kind of transmogrification are we talking about? Should I turn myself into something like steel or iron? Wouldn’t that help with durability and mana flow?”
Althiel shook her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Steel and iron are primitive solutions. For someone like you, whose soul is rapidly strengthening, I would suggest mithril.”
The words hit Avince like a thunderbolt. His eyes widened, and he leaned back in shock.
“Mithril?” he stammered. “Are you serious? That’s impossible! Transmogrifying my body into mithril would be a peak Tier 3 magic, maybe even Tier 4! The level of precision and mana density required—I don’t think anyone in my world is capable of that.”
Althiel frowned slightly at his reaction, tilting her head as if reconsidering something. “Your world…” she murmured. “I forget sometimes that your world is still in its infancy after integration. Only a century has passed since your people were exposed to dungeon energy. That explains your reaction.”
“What do you mean?” Avince asked, narrowing his eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Althiel straightened, clasping her hands behind her back as she launched into an explanation. “Mithril, as you understand it, is simply silver infused with dense mana. Nothing more. Your world’s current perspective overcomplicates the matter because you lack the understanding and tools to produce it efficiently. In fact, I can create mithril myself, provided I have a sufficient supply of silver.”
“Wait, wait,” Avince interrupted, raising his hands in disbelief. “You’re telling me mithril is just silver with mana in it? That can’t be right. Mithril is one of the most valuable minerals in the world! How can something so precious be based on… silver?”
Althiel’s emerald eyes gleamed as she met his incredulous gaze. “Value is a matter of perspective, shaped by scarcity and knowledge. In my world, mithril is more readily available because we’ve mastered the process of its creation. Silver, on its own, is merely Tier 2—a step above stone and rock. But with proper mana infusion, it evolves into mithril.
"That said," she added, her tone growing more serious, "mithril is still not a common resource. The sheer amount of mana required to produce it drives up its cost considerably. Even so, it remains far more accessible and economical than solely relying on the small quantities scavenged from dungeons. Your people consider it rare because they have yet to uncover these methods.”
Avince blinked, struggling to process her words. “So you’re saying that if I bring you silver, you can just… turn it into mithril?”
“Not quite that easily,” Althiel replied. “It requires a process. You need sufficient mana, precise control, and the proper method to compact that mana without destroying the silver in the process. It’s not instantaneous, and it will take effort and precision, but once you master the technique, you’ll understand why this process is so valuable.”
The revelation left Avince stunned. He leaned back on the log, staring up at the canopy of the glade as he tried to reconcile this new knowledge with what he had always believed. Silver was valuable, sure, but nowhere near as valuable as mithril. If what Althiel said was true, the implications were staggering.
“Silver into mithril…” he muttered, shaking his head. “That changes everything. Mithril isn’t just mined from dungeons—it can be made. And I’ve been sitting here thinking it was some unattainable, mystical material.”
Althiel regarded him with a faint smile, though a glint of seriousness remained in her eyes. “Be cautious, Avince. While this knowledge may seem revolutionary, it can also bring danger if used recklessly.”
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He sat up abruptly, an idea forming in his mind. “Can you help me make mithril? If I bring you silver, can you turn it into mithril for me?”
The elf hesitated, her expression thoughtful. She began pacing, clearly weighing the risks and benefits of his request. After a moment, she stopped and faced him.
“I can,” she said finally. “But there will be conditions.”
“Name them,” Avince said without hesitation.
“First, you are not to sell the mithril, not now or in the near future. Its sudden appearance in large quantities would raise suspicion, especially if your people believe it to be a rare mineral. Second, any mithril I create for you will be for your personal use only. Equipment, tools, or weapons—nothing more.”
Avince nodded quickly. “Agreed. I wouldn’t even know where to start selling mithril anyway.”
“Good,” Althiel said. “Bring me silver, and I will help you craft mithril. But remember, this process is as much about your growth as it is about the material. I don’t want you relying on equipment. You should practice transmogrification into silver first.”
Avince nodded, his resolve hardening. “Understood. I’ll find someone to teach me and start practicing.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “Actually, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you about.”
The elf arched an elegant brow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”
Avince hesitated, then continued. “During my dungeon run, I earned quite a few contribution points. I’m not really sure where to use them. Do you have any suggestions on how I should spend them?”
Althiel’s expression shifted slightly as she regarded him. “I see. But I need you to explain something to me first. What exactly are these contribution points you’ve earned? How are they spent? I know they’re tied to your school, but I’m curious about their purpose and limits.”
Avince nodded, then explained, “They’re points given by the school to redeem resources and services. Anything from materials, equipment, even access to specialized training sessions and lessons. Basically, they’re a currency to support students in their development.”
Althiel raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Even for training?”
Avince nodded again, a hint of relief in his voice. “Yes, for training as well. It can cover a lot, depending on what you need.”
Althiel’s expression softened with a thoughtful smile. “Considering your current priorities, I’d suggest investing in training for your physique. Your body needs to be able to handle the increasing power of your mana, or you’ll face more setbacks in the future.”
She paused, tapping a finger against her chin. “After that, consider finding someone who can teach you the fundamentals of transmogrification. It will take time, but it’s a skill you’ll need to master before progressing further. Silver is just the beginning, after all.”
“That makes sense,” Avince replied, nodding slowly. “What about the potions and materials? Don’t I need to purchase some of them too?”
“I can help with that,” Althiel said, her expression turning serious. “I can still recall, albeit faintly, the recipe for one of my clan’s tempering potions. It could greatly enhance your body’s adaptability and prepare it for the changes ahead.”
She raised her hand, a soft glow enveloping her palm. A swirling orb of golden light formed, pulsing faintly as it hovered between them.
“What is that?” Avince asked, narrowing his eyes.
“A memory packet,” Althiel explained. “It contains the recipe. Take it, and you will know what you need.”
Avince took a wary step back, his distrust evident. “A memory packet? Really? After what happened between us before, you can’t expect me to just grab some glowing orb you conjured out of nowhere.”
The elf sighed, her expression tinged with exasperation. “It is harmless, I assure you. If I wanted to harm you, there are far simpler ways than this.”
“Why can’t you just write it down?” Avince countered, still skeptical.
“Because you wouldn’t understand a word of it,” Althiel replied, crossing her arms. “Our written language is far different than yours. It would look like gibberish to you.”
Avince let out a long sigh. The pressure from earlier—the weight of everything Althiel had laid out for him—was beginning to settle in. "Fine"
He reached out hesitantly and grasped the orb. The moment his fingers made contact, a rush of sensations overwhelmed him. His vision blurred, and his mind was suddenly filled with vivid flashes—ingredients, environments, and creatures all linked to the tempering potion recipe. He saw crimson-hued plants growing in volcanic regions, molten fragments from fire-elemental monsters, and the glowing embers of rare dungeon stones.
When the images faded, Avince staggered back, muttering to himself. “Fireleaf… Ignis Core… Emberhorn Resin… Flame Serpent Scales…”
Althiel nodded approvingly. “Yes, those are the materials you will need. With your ability, finding them should not be a challenge. The memories I gave you also include the environments and monsters where these can be found.”
Avince straightened, still processing everything. Though some of the materials were unfamiliar, the knowledge he had gained was detailed enough to give him confidence.
“Got it,” he said, determination burning in his eyes. “I’ll start tracking these down as soon as I can.”
“Good,” Althiel said. “But remember, the potion is only one part of your preparation. Do not neglect your training.
Avince gave a curt nod. “Thanks, Althiel. I’ll get to it now.”
The elf smiled faintly, a rare hint of warmth in her expression. “Good luck, Avince. You’ll need it.”
Before he could respond, the forest dissolved into darkness, and Avince found himself back in his room.