From what I gathered from Rachel, Jin, and the books they'd casually handed —because apparently, secrets of imnse magical power are just sothing people toss around these days—the real challenge of forming a Black Star or White Star wasn't effort. It was talent. Raw, unadulterated, born-with-it-or-not talent.
Rachel had offhandedly ntioned that forming her White Star took her three days. Three. Days. That included understanding the theory behind it, the delicate compressing of light mana into its purest form, and actually manifesting the thing. Three days to do sothing that would take most light mages a year, if they were lucky. But that was Rachel. Her absurd affinity for light magic made such feats almost laughably easy for her.
So, it boiled down to one painful truth: either you had it, or you didn't. Effort, while not entirely useless, was largely irrelevant in the face of natural ability.
Still, I wasn't one to skip my howork. Understanding the theory behind both the Black Star and the White Star was crucial, not just because they were vastly different in elental nature, but because the process of forming each had its own peculiar nuances. Compressing light mana and compressing dark mana were two entirely separate beasts, each with its own snarling teeth and temperantal attitude.
'Luna,' I thought, reaching out to the ethereal presence that occasionally occupied my mind like an annoyingly cryptic roommate, 'any bright ideas on how I can make this work?'
'The White Star will be trickier,' Luna mused, her tone like that of a professor who enjoyed watching students squirm. 'But possible. Focus on forming the Black Star first. It aligns better with your current abilities.'
I sighed internally. 'Alright, one step at a ti.'
The Black Star was the imdiate goal, the stepping stone to whatever insane heights I intended to climb. Both the White Star and Black Star would amplify my abilities significantly, making them invaluable in my journey toward creating a Lich—well, a Lich to start with, and an Arch Lich eventually. Though let's not get ahead of ourselves; I wasn't exactly planning to bring apocalyptic undead sorcery to the dinner table anyti soon.
As I mulled over the possibilities, a thought crept into my mind. Jin. Why had he given that hint in the first place? The guy was as stoic and inscrutable as a stone statue, not exactly prone to handing out advice or helpful nudges.
'Best way to deal with Jin is the direct approach,' I decided. No point in overthinking when the man himself was a text away.
I pulled out my phone and shot him a ssage: "Why did you give the Black Star hint?"
The response ca faster than expected. Three words.
"It's interesting."
That was it. No elaboration. No context. Just "it's interesting."
I stared at the screen, equal parts amused and annoyed. Classic Jin. The man was a necromancy fanatic, after all. If it involved raising, controlling, or creating undead, it was automatically "interesting" to him. The fact that this thod tied into dark mana compression, a concept few could master, probably made it irresistible to his curiosity.
Still, Jin's own path in necromancy differed from mine. He was focused on the long ga, the ability to summon and command vast armies of undead. That was the quintessential necromancer's dream, and he had the talent and dedication to pull it off. The problem? The Black Star thod wasn't compatible with such ambitions. Forming a Black Star required sacrifices—not in the literal sense (though necromancers do love their rituals)—but sacrifices of potential. It would limit his ability to summon large numbers of undead, forcing him to focus on fewer, more powerful creations.
For Jin, it wasn't worth the trade-off.
For , it was perfect. I wasn't aiming for an army; I didn't have the ti or the inclination to manage one. My talents lay elsewhere—primarily with a sword. I needed a single creation, a masterpiece. The Black Star thod fit my goals like a glove.
Still, his succinct answer stuck with . "It's interesting." Not helpful, but it did make wonder if Jin was hoping to see whether I could pull it off. He was likely as curious about the results as I was. For soone so stoic, he had a surprising knack for subtle instigation.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. There was a lot to process, and even more to do. Luna's cryptic promises about helping solidify the Black Star were encouraging, but I'd learned not to rely too heavily on her. She was helpful, sure, but her fondness for vague hints and half-revealed truths was enough to drive anyone mad.
For now, I had the tools—both taphorical and literal. The books from Rachel and Jin were invaluable resources, and the potion Jin had mysteriously slipped into my spatial ring was undoubtedly designed to aid in mana compression. I'd figure it out. I always did.
Regardless, now that my practical task was done, I had a lot more free ti. I only had to make the presentation with Seraphina, but that could be done on the last day.
So I had two days. More than enough, in theory, to retrieve the Basilisk Heart. Theory always sounds so confident, doesn't it?
"Professor, can I leave the mansion?" I asked Nero as I stood in the dimly lit corridor, trying to sound nonchalant.
"It's quite late," he replied, arching a brow. His tone carried that blend of concern and annoyance one reserves for students who look like they're about to do sothing profoundly stupid. "But you've completed your task, so… fine. Share the location with ."
"Of course," I said, giving him the most innocent smile I could muster. And I did share my location. I just didn't share the part where my location would remain in one spot for a suspiciously long ti. I already had plans to leave my phone with a random, trustworthy-enough person. Technology in this world might be leagues ahead, but it was also surprisingly easy to outwit if you threw a few credits at soone with a friendly face and no questions asked.
It was ti to claim the Life Source for my future Lich.
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