As they all sat down to dinner, and got to know their new party member, I got to work devouring the new book. After some pleasantry hellos to Asher, of course.
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Principles of Arcane Efficiency: A Study in Optimization and Structural Integrity
Mavian the Meticulous
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Oh no. He got me a text book. I felt the title written across my page in mounting horror. I have been enjoying the reading so far, but everything has been mostly fantastical up to this point. But this, this sounded like something an engineer would study. Sure, I had been in university when all this happened, but I had been going for cultural sciences.
On the other page, it was about magic. And I had promised Cuttle that I would accrue and maintain information. Plus, it had been a gift, I didn't want to be rude. Oh, and maybe this stuff could be useful to Asher, what with wanting to understand magic and what not. I'm pretty sure engineers don't program, but it might have some neat tips, right? With that, I began to read.
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A spell is not unlike a mechanical construct. When one piece fails, the entire mechanism falters. A fireball cast with an inefficient weave bleeds energy unnecessarily—why waste 18% of your mana when proper sigil reinforcement can bring that down to a precise 12.4%? A flying carpet that wobbles in the air is not malfunctioning due to a 'temperamental' enchantment; rather, the stabilization glyphs are misaligned by a fraction of an inch, creating inconsistent lift differentials.
The solution is not to accept inefficiencies but to refine the structure. Break down the components, reorient them for maximum effectiveness, and let the spellwork serve its intended purpose without excess strain. The most skilled mages are not those who wield the greatest raw power, but those who make every thread of mana count.
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Wow. I mean, wow. It definitely was a text book, but something about it was just so simple to read. It was easy and even a little fun. I didn't mentally retain all the knowledge, but it was just so simple to recall. Even using Infinite Pages, it felt so easy to shift around and pull up what I was looking for.
Skill Unlocked
Adaptive Formatting
Description: This ability can alter your pages layout dynamically, reorganizing text and diagrams to present information in the most concise or effective way. This makes complex ideas easier to comprehend at a glance and aids in problem-solving.
Inherent: Locks 1.1% of Mana
Mana: 805/805 (824)
Experience: 7.14/100
Oh. I like that book.
I must've finished Echoing not too long before the others started waking up. I was shuffled around a few times—yep, good morning to you too, mysterious hands—before finally being placed on a flat surface and opened.
"Good morning to you, Nakia."
The words appeared across my pages, but something was different. No tap-tap-tap of a utensil, and the handwriting was familiar but not quite the same as yesterday. Still, I knew this one—I'd written with Hapa before.
"Good morning, Hapa. Ready for the dungeon today?"
There was a pause before his response, like he was thinking something over. "Yes, though I do wish we knew more about it. From what Urchin has learned, it was supposedly pretty formidable a few Initiations back. But now it's considered underwhelming to the point where the locals barely mention it, except to the occasional beginner group."
I mulled that over for a moment. "Seems like a good thing when we've got a new party member with not only unknown capabilities but unknown powers in general?"
"I suppose that is fair."
There was another pause—shorter this time—before I felt Hapa shift, his attention being pulled away by someone else. "We are heading out. You'll be with me, and I will check in every so often to keep you updated and see what you have to say."
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
I hummed happily in my void. "Thanks, Hapa. I'm looking forward to it." Then, before he could close me, I added, "Oh! And thank you for the book! It was interesting!"
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The Tale of the Forgotten Temple
It is often said that time softens even the sharpest of dangers, that what was once fearsome may, in the absence of challenge, grow tame. So it was with this dungeon, a place whispered of as a mere shadow of its former self—an unremarkable ruin hidden behind the gentle veil of a waterfall, its entrance tucked away in a sandy alcove.
Once, this dungeon had been feared. Now, this one was a picnic spot.
The entrance itself was nothing more than a fissure in the rock, winding downward into the unknown. The party moved carefully, each step slow and deliberate. Cuttle and Urchin led the way, their sharp eyes scanning the darkness ahead. Asher, the newcomer, followed in their wake, while Hapa, ever the watchful guide, took up the rear—and with him, he carried the book.
The stairway was worn from years of passage, its descent slow and deep. As shadows threatened to consume their sight, Hapa spoke soft words, and the darkness receded. With vision restored, they pressed on, their steps echoing in the silence.
At last, the stairs ended, spilling them into a vast cavern filled with an eerie, alien glow. Luminous plants clung to the walls and ceilings, their soft light casting the chamber in an otherworldly hue. Yet none of them matched any knowledge held within the book's pages.
And there, at the cavern's far side, carved into the very stone, stood the remnants of a temple.
Time had not been kind to the ruin; its structure was battered, its purpose long forgotten. Even as the party advanced, no threats rose to meet them. Only silence.
It was Urchin who noticed them first—the small, waddling forms of creatures nestled among the temple's overgrowth. At first glance, they seemed no more than fungi, squat and harmless. But as the party neared, they crouched low, their caps pressing against the ground, shielding their fragile bodies from prying hands.
At last, the explorers pressed into the temple itself. Its chambers were sparse, hollow, empty echoes of whatever had once thrived within. In the grand hall, a lone chest rested upon the dais, untouched by time. Within it, a scattering of coins—a minor treasure, swiftly pocketed, their value to be weighed later.
And then, Cuttle noticed it.
What they had thought to be a moss-covered stone at the edge of the room was no stone at all. It moved.
A shadow unfurled, legs shifting, clicking softly against the temple floor. What lay before them was a Boulder Spider, a creature of cunning deception. Found most often in rocky terrain, it had perfected the art of stillness, waiting for the unwary to step too close—waiting to strike.
This was its domain. And it had found its prey.
But the adventurers did not falter. Cuttle and Urchin rushed forward, drawing its attention, their movements fluid, practiced. Hapa stood firm, his voice steady as he guided Asher through the moment. Where to aim. When to strike.
The young Mage hesitated—but only for a breath. Then, a flicker of light, a spark of energy. Electricity arced through the air. A minor spell, yet powerful enough to force the beast back. It reeled, its disguise shattered.
Urchin took the opening. A swift movement. A final strike.
The spider fell, its form crumbling into the dust.
Beyond the main chamber, more of its kin lurked, though these were but small things, no larger than a Rust-Tail Brushfox. They were dealt with swiftly.
And then, Cuttle found a secret.
A false stone, set into the wall, hiding a modest hoard of forgotten treasure. Perhaps untouched, for none had deemed this place worthy of plundering. A small windfall, a quiet reward for those who dared to look deeper.
Their task was done. The temple yielded no further secrets.
And so, they turned to leave.
But as they stepped through the main hall, it happened.
From below, from the depths where none had tread, a mossy-grey rhythm began to rise.
It drifted through the void, a whispering chant reverberating throughout.
A presence unseen. A voice unheard.
Something older stirred beneath the temple.