"Hey Remy, what's mana?" Dave asked, while taking a brief break as they embarked on the second day of forge-building. The sun was shining brightly overhead, casting warm light across the bustling construction site. Sawdust and dirt swirled around them, carried on a gentle breeze that did little to alleviate the heat of their labor. "Also, how does magic work?"

Remicra paused in her work, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she considered the question, her gaze momentarily distant as she delved into the depths of her knowledge. The dragoness, though focused on their task, seemed to appreciate an opportunity to share her wisdom with her human companion.

"Mana," she began, her voice low and steady, "is the life force that flows through all living things. It is the very essence of compressed magic, the fuel that allows us to harness specific power and bend some part of reality to our will."

She gestured with a clawed hand, tracing intricate patterns in the air as if to illustrate her point.

"Mana is made in your soul acting as a small furnace, drawing sparks of magic forth from anywhere on Arxtruria, holding it within your body at first as radiance and then as microscopic crystalline-organic formations. These can be channeled into abilities or spells. The more mana one can hold in their soul and body the more powerful their magic will be. But it is not just a matter of brute force," Remicra cautioned, as she regarded Dave intently. "True mastery of magic comes from understanding the delicate balance of energies, the intricate dance of power and control that lies at the heart of all spell-casting."

"So, is it like a muscle?" Dave asked, his brow furrowed as he sought to grasp the complexities of the arcane. "The more you use it, the stronger it gets?"

"In a way, yes," Remicra replied, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "But it is also about learning to control and refine that power, to wield it with precision and skill. In the hands of a true master, even the smallest trickle of mana can be as devastating as a raging torrent. The more you work on your chosen skill, the more magic you pull through it with finer precision, the greater it becomes and the more your soul and body aligns with it."

"Ah, specialization matters, yes?" Dave asked.

"Yes," Remicra affirmed, her voice taking on a tone of enthusiasm as she warmed to the topic. "Specialization is crucial in the magical arts. By focusing on a particular discipline or aspect of magic, one can hone their skills and develop a deeper connection to the underlying forces that govern their chosen path."

She gestured towards the half-built forge, the bricks and mortar coming together to form a testament to their combined efforts. "For example, I’m a master forger with a high specialization in metallomancy. From what my father taught me there’s a crystalline-organic core in my body that makes metals malleable and obedient to my will.”

“Right,” Dave considered the blacksmith’s words, his thoughts wandering to the large source of crystallized mana that lay nearby - the dungeon core within the mansion. He knew that if he drained it using his Phantomancy, his specialization and power would grow. As he contemplated this, his thoughts also turned to what Cedez had told him about her connection to Shandria.

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"Do you think that someone could crystalize their mana on purpose outside of their body and then bind a small piece of themselves to it, imbue it with their best memories?" He asked, the idea taking root in his mind. "To create a non-insane dungeon core, a ward artifact that would persist for hundreds of years and grow stronger and more dangerous over time just like a dungeon does?"

Remicra's eyes gleamed with interest as she mulled over the question. "Such a device would require a cadre of insanely powerful archmages working together," she mused.

"I bet when the Shadow Empress took Shandria by force, she did exactly that to secure the city under her rule," Dave said. "Maybe she wanted to preserve her legacy in stone... err, crystal, to make sure that her city would never be taken by another. I bet all cities of the Shadow Empire have cloud rings around them and a dark foxgirl just like her looking for heroes to recruit to her cause!"

"An interesting speculation on the nature of the Sovereign Shadow," Remicra said, her eyes thoughtful as she considered the implications of Dave's theory. "People can die, but a magisteel-protected crystal artifact would be immortal. If such a thing is buried somewhere in the depths of the central white tower, reinforced with a thousand wards and with more crystals spread along the city walls, supported by city-wide runework that feeds on everyone in the city... Yes, I can see it. It would be a marvel of engineering, a self-sustaining system, a magitek engine that grows stronger and more intelligent with every century, just like a dungeon does."

Dave's thoughts turned to Cedez, her playful, overtfully cheerful demeanor that he had grown so fond of. He found himself pondering the complex nature of her personality, which could at times seem contradictory. As he reflected on their interactions, he began to see her belligerence as arising from a sort of innocence, a manifestation of her struggle to balance her maturity in many ways with her relative youth as a living idea in other aspects.

In a way, Cedez's existence seemed to mirror that of a self-learning program, one that was well-versed in the intricacies of its purpose yet still understanding how to interact and connect with others on a deeper level. Dave couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the foxgirl as he considered the limitations her vast charisma magic placed upon her.

Cedez's innate, near-absolute power was undoubtedly a double-edged sword, as most people couldn't touch or speak to her without succumbing to her influence. This, in turn, prevented her from having more authentic and varied experiences, further hindering her ability to grow and develop as an individual. He began to understand just how lonely and isolated Cedez's existence might be, and how much she may have been seeking a genuine connection with someone who could see past her magical allure.

"Why didn't she just tell me that she's a manifestation of the ward?" Dave muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "That would have made things much less weird and confusing…"

"Oh, really?" Remicra retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Personally, I wouldn't want to be friends with a magical echo of the city's ward projected by an ancient artifact buried somewhere deep under the city." She shook her head. "Who knows what kind of idiotic rules the Shadow archmagi bound her to obey two hundred years ago? I certainly don't. What if she suddenly decides that you're an enemy of Shandria? Your plan to make a little shadow your pet was far less idiotically reckless than your current plan of befriending the biggest shadow in town. Is your goal to get eaten?"

"My goal is to find a way to fix this broken world," Dave answered. "Or at the very least the part of it I live in."

"You can't fix Arx," The dragoness said. "You can't even build a smithy without me doing most of the work! You get tired after lifting three bricks!"

"I'm a programmer, not a bricklayer," Dave countered, his pride stung by Remicra's words.

"I don't know what a programmer is," Remicra laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But if it's anything like your bricklaying skills, I'd say the world is going to get fixed in a million years and look like the most lopsided smithy ever built."

Dave rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling at the playful banter.