Cal's shadow stretched long and thin as he slipped from the alcove, a ghost in the dim light. The air was thick against his skin as he stepped outside. His footsteps were silent, each step calculated to avoid the treacherous debris scattered across the floor.

The gloom of the outside world greeted him, the red glow of a nearby lava pool tinging his surrounding with an ominous light. It flickered across his face, casting sharp angles into relief and playing tricks on his vision. He took a moment to adjust to the heat radiating from the molten rock, unsurprisingly toasty.

In his palm lay the mana fruit, its surface smooth, reminiscent of the true night sky and aglow with an inner luminescence that seemed to pulse in time with his beating heart. Elena had said that this was a Paltari cosmomelon, but it looked more like a vegetable to him. Regardless it was a potent source of mana, one that could potentially change his fate.

Cal hesitated. The weight of a decision pressed upon him, heavier than any recent physical burden. To use the fruit himself - to harness “magic” for himself - was a temptation that clawed at his resolve. Yet, the thought of Temp, with its burgeoning sentience and untapped potential, introduced a new variable into the equation.

He turned the fruit over in his hand, watching the way the light danced across its surface, a myriad of stars swirling. It wasn't just a question of power—it was a question of trust. Cal had trusted him before, in part because he could not use the soul-structure fruit himself, but to do so again when he could benefit? Temp realistically had been no more than a clever tool so far, though Cal recognized the budding sentience and curiosity bubbling to surface. Temp indeed teetered on the edge of becoming so much more.

His blue eyes, usually so clear with purpose, now swam with doubt. The scent of sulfur rose from the lava, stinging his nostrils, a reminder of the volatile world they inhabited—a world that demanded strength and sacrifice in equal measure.

"Choices," he murmured to the night, his voice barely above a whisper. "They define us, for better or worse."

With a final glance at the glowing orb in his grasp, Cal closed his fingers around it, the warmth seeping into his flesh. His decision would shape not just his own destiny, but that of his companion as well. And in that moment of quiet, caught between desire and foresight, Cal knew the path he would take.

Cal's fingers unfurled, the mana fruit resting on his open palm. Its radiant hues pulsed like a heartbeat, each throb a siren call to his own latent abilities. But this power wasn't meant for him. With resolve hardening in his chest, he called forward Temp, a wooden chair in all its glory. Cal was partly surprised it did not combust in the heat, but realized Temp had some gains in wisdom itself.

"Temp," Cal called out, his voice slicing through the silence.

Temp stirred. “Yes, Cal?” Cal placed the fruit onto the seat.

"Take this," he instructed, the command more gentle than any order he'd given before.

Temp flickered with awareness, drawn to the offering. “You, already gave me the soul-structure fruit. It would be inequitable to claim this as well.”

“We both know that it will have the most impact with you.”

“If we cannot find another…”

“We will find another. Don’t you worry about that.”

The air thrummed as an invisible force emanated from Temp, enveloping the fruit. It glowed brighter for a moment, as if caught by Temp’s will, before disintegrating into particles of light that spiraled inward, sucked into Temp.

Cal watched, a silent sentinel, as the essence of the mana was absorbed, the potential for magic now intertwining with Temp's emerging consciousness. His decision made, there was no room for regret—only anticipation for the future.

Cal could sense a budding aethercore within Temp, its rhythm quickening. Silver filaments branched out like lightning across a stormy sky, an intricate network forming from the mana fruit's disintegrated essence. The chair’s frame vibrated and patterns once again emerged with the birth of this Temp’s mana scaffolding.

He could sense no physical core, but it was like Elena had said. This was only the first step.

"Remarkable," Cal whispered, eyes wide as he observed the transformation.

A hum filled the air, a tangible buzz that resonated with the energy coursing through Temp. Its form previously utilitarian, now shimmered with a prismatic glow, betraying the infusion of magic within.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Cal, I sense it!" Temp's voice crackled, as if tasting speech for the first time in ages, "it was just like soul structuring. I had to use the bloodline as a conduit."

Cal took a step back, giving the chair space as it acclimated.

"Initiating translation guideweave," Temp commanded, its tone laced with curiosity and an undercurrent of power.

“Woah, woah, hold on there! Don’t blow yourself up – Mara said it was hard.”

Power surged across the surface, invisible to Cal, but the feeling was palpable. It danced and twisted into configurations beyond the scope of ordinary machinery. A lattice of light enveloped Temp, stretching outward like seeking tendrils before snapping into coherence.

"Guideweave stable," Temp reported, the fluctuation in its voice smoothing into clarity.

"Did it work?" Cal asked, probing Temp to test the boundaries.

[Learned a support skill – system title awarded, Talented labor]

[Talented labor: +5 luck]

"Affirmative. All records of the fallen warrior’s journal within my database have been translated," Temp responded, a hint of pride threading through its cadence.

"Good. We'll need that," Cal said, nodding in approval, his mind already racing ahead to what challenges they might face next.

A ripple surged through Cal’s consciousness as Temp exerted its newfound fluency. Cal's eyebrows arched in astonishment; he could feel the chair standing enveloped in a nimbus of arcane energy, its success immediate and undeniable.

"This will allow me to complete several skills that will be useful to us." Temp declared, its voice now tinged with excitement.

"Didn't expect that on your first go," Cal admitted, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"This fruit was indeed the last step. I was already close to comprehension." Temp replied.

"Let's see how you handle something a bit more... tactile." Cal reached for the space treasure slung across his chest, the material whispering as it moved. He tossed it toward Temp, the object landed on the seat where the fruit used to stand.

"Try to open it. Determine if there is anything useful," he instructed, anticipation coiling in his gut.

"Accessing," Temp announced.

Cal watched, silent sentinel to Temp's discovery. His own pulse thrummed in his veins, syncopated with the hum of Temp's operations.

Mana streamed towards Temp, a similar surge of power drawn by an unseen magnet. The bag responded, seams stretching as it inhaled the mystical energy, its contents soon laid bare. Temp projected what it saw to Cal.

"Curious assortment," Cal muttered, eyeing the revealed trove. Blades glinted alongside vials of iridescent liquid, scrolls bundled with ancient twine, and beast parts of indiscernible function.

"Assessment required." Temp's core pulsed methodically.

"Right." Cal knelt, fingers grazing a dagger, its edge singing with dormant power. "This—weaponry seems okay. Nothing particularly useful though."

"Affirmative. And these?" Temp indicated the vials.

"Potent elixirs, perhaps." He uncorked one, nose wrinkling at the pungent aroma. "Careful with these. Could be poison."

"Data logged."

Their exchange was clinical, efficient. They sifted through the items, sharing terse dialogue that disguised an undercurrent of wonder at their strange partnership.

“Cal, I know understand why the fallen hunter was drawing beasts.”

“Why?”

“He was preparing to enhance his spear with the soul of a beast. He prepared all the materials for such a ritual. It is quite strange, though. From what I understand, this is actually very uncommon practice on Hetar. The hunter was testing his research.”

“What’s the point of it?”

“The weapon is then able to grow stronger.”

“Hmmm, interesting. Do we have all the materials?"

“We would require an egg, but the remaining materials are here. The complexity of the ritual itself is still beyond me, so I will have to learn and simulate.”

“Mark the materials we should keep to the side. So… the untranslated page we found earlier - was that the record for the guideweave for this?”

“Indeed, it is more of a ritual. The hunter collected all the materials he needed, but perhaps died confronting the beast that he wished to claim.”

"Is that what these scrolls speak of?" Cal said, unfurling one. Symbols danced before his eyes, secrets of this world or another.

"Correct. They are all research in an attempt to fine tune the ritual. I may be able to refine it further," Temp's voice held a note of concentration.

"Well ok. Let’s table it for now. If you derive something further, we'll have something to look forward to." Cal's gaze shifted to a peculiar pile of crystals. "And this might just be our ticket out of tight spots."

Cal took out a couple to play with – they reminded him of the crystal used to power the lights of the room, but they significantly weaker.

He then bent low, sweeping up his scattered possessions with methodical grace, organs, weapons, sunburst orchids, all of it. Each item vanished into the space bag's maw, its capacity defying physics. “How much can this hold?”

“Enough. Approximately 50 cubic feet.”

He exhaled. "This certainly changes things," he murmured.

Temp added a capacity meter to keep track of overfilling.

Cal straightened, rolling his shoulders back with newfound ease. One hand holding a few weak crystals, and his other hand brushing against the journal, its leather cover scarred by battle and time. "Let's see what other secrets you hold."

He cracked the tome open, pages whispering like dry leaves under his touch. The ink was faded but legible, sketches of beasts and arcane symbols peppered amongst the text.