Finally he had done it, he had obtained all the necessary materials. Months of painstaking research and shelling out a ton of gold had got him this far. The next step would be all up to him alone.

With the utmost care he removed the delicate from its packaging and set it down on the large wooden table in his small study room. He sorted them into six stacks of eight pages, the trickiest part was now gently folding each stack in half. He wiped the sweat from his brow after he unfolded the last stack.

Slightly in from the edge of each crease he deftly sewed a few stitches using before repeating the flourish at the opposite end. With the pages now bound in the stack it was time to bind each stack together. He cut a strip of slightly wider then needed as he waited for the contents of a small metal pot to yield to the heat of the flame below. Once the began to bubble he knew it was ready.

The six stacks were placed together with the bound ends facing upward and held in place by a couple of wooden clamps.

He took a small brush from a drawer in the desk and dipped it into the simmering liquid. He smeared the glue along the spines of the stacks, making two passes, before flipping the bundle over and pressing it firmly onto the strip of cloth.

The glue set quickly.

When he turned it upright again he had two small wings that he doubted could carry the heart of his book. Thankfully his measurements had been so precise that there was no need to trim the edges and he moved swiftly on to the next stage: The cover.

Two plates of solid were removed from the package he had been sent and set down a top a large rectangle of. A smaller strip of a more brilliant metal was taken from a secure lock box and placed between these two formidable plates. Small borders of space existed between the Mithril landmasses and this tiny island of .

The single most expensive piece of precious material to procure.

He cut out a wide border around the plates. The Dragons Hide was tough but had been expertly processed so was easy enough to sculpt even with his poor strength and non-existent handicraft skills. More glue sap was painted onto the plates and then they were returned to their position on the now smaller leather rectangle.

Once these dried he would have a suitable place to seal the Heart.

With the plates firmly set on the leather he began the final phase of his craft project. The excess fabric was folded and glued down onto the plates, trapping them underneath. he worked diligently on one edge at a time folding; gluing; smoothing and pressing to ensure the corners were neat and not bulky. The skill of the leatherworker showed itself again here when the edges folded as easily as the paper had.

He brushed more glue onto each edge of the Mithril plates on either side of the Helium spine before pressing the wings of the Heart down on to the cover. He left the inverse T to dry in that position for several hours while he raked around for the last few materials.

A great set of wings were removed from under several large tomes where they had been being pressed. He held them up to the light that streamed in the small window of his study room. As soon as they were touched by those golden shafts of sun the wings took on a translucent gossamer quality and glowed with a pale silvery moonlight.

But when he moved them to the darkness underneath the window they solidified into delicate wings like those of a butterflies. The moonlight radiance was replaced by the mosaic of patterns and colours glowing subtly like a rainbow.

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His eyes misted as he butchered these perfect wings to fit as the inner lining of his book before smearing them with glue and crushing them in place.

They dried instantly and with that the books form was finished, all that remains was its contents. A single thought flickered across his mind.

'How much could I sell this for?'

But he forced out the greed with the sheer nagging flood of memories of what it took just to reach this stage.

He took two vials of liquid from another drawer in the desk, one of deep crimson the other of a silvery white, and poured their contents into a crystal ink well on the desk.

Small tendrils of acrid smoke were given off before he could seal the container and give it a swirl to fully mix the two liquids. The resulting black liquid almost hummed with power.

He opened his new book to the centre page and removed the lid of the ink well before drowning the crisp virgin pages in the black mass.

'An ink made from and the seems to have been the right choice.'

The now black pages absorbed the liquid like it was water leaving none of the previous stain visible, returning to a pristine white.

The final stage; the toughest stage then began. He had to pump his mana into the book. Channelling it until it was complete and he had no idea when it would be complete.

At the moment his mana was full but it wouldn't be to long before he would run dry and he'd have to stop to let it regenerate. Luckily for him he had a considerable mana pool for a level one character, thanks in part to his class and the stats gains he'd made while reading in the library during his first in game months seclusion.

He placed both hands on the book and began to focus on the image of sending it power. He felt energy from his chest being drawn out as the book greedily sucked down all his mana. In a few minutes he was completely drained and had to forcefully break contact just to be able to recover or he felt that the book would gulp down all his meagre health as well .

After about ten minutes he was rested enough to start again only this time he placed one hand so as to be able to break the connection more easily. He repeated this cycle of draining and refilling for several days. Gaining a couple more stats points in intelligence and wisdom in the process.

His total now for both of these at level one sat at 55 points each.

Due to the different way in which time moved inside the game it had only been around 18 hours real time; a VR:RL ratio of 4:1. When he rested between cycles he ate to ensure his satiety didn't fall to zero, running the risk of dying from hunger. He had chosen a Friday night to start his craftwork so he had the rest of the weekend to devote to the game.

He just hoped he could be done in time to sleep a little before school on Monday. He only stopped when a small box appeared before him.

Congratulations you have created a Magic Tome.

Finally, he dropped the book on the table and logged off.