Lucas knew that before he could seek his own power, he had to ensure Moxie was stable. Even with the mysterious black energy knitting her together, her tiny physical body was still frail.
He found a local Beast Apothecary, a clinic that smelled of dried herbs and pungent salves. The vet, a man with spectacles thick enough to be lenses for a telescope, poked and prodded Moxie for nearly an hour.
"Physically, she's recovering at a rate that shouldn't be possible," the vet muttered, cleaning a scar on her flank. "But her core... it's strange. It's like a shattered mirror that's being glued back together with something much stronger than glass. Just keep her fed and warm. She's a fighter, this one."
With Moxie bandaged and purring softly, Lucas headed to his true destination: The Great Archive of Aethelgard.
The library was a sprawling labyrinth of towering bookshelves and floating ladders. In the section dedicated to Beast Taxonomy and Genetics, he found a young woman surrounded by a fortress of open scrolls. She had messy auburn hair and ink stains on her nose, her eyes darting across a page with manic intensity.
"You're looking at the recessive traits of the Six-Winged Seraph-Drake," Lucas said, reading a title over her shoulder. "But the skeletal structure on that diagram suggests a mutation in the third wing-joint. It wouldn't fly; it would glide."
The girl froze, then looked up, her eyes bright. "Finally! Someone who looks at the bone density instead of just the scales! I'm Valorie. And you are?"
"Lucas," he replied, sitting across from her.
They spent the next hour locked in a deep, scientific debate. They spoke of Mana-Alleles, the way environment triggers latent genetic markers, and why certain beasts stop evolving at specific tiers. Lucas eventually steered the conversation toward the creature resting in his lap.
"What do you know about the growth rate of Wisdom Felines?" Lucas asked. "The world says they stop at Bronze."
Valorie's expression shifted. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The 'world' is lazy, Lucas. There's a tale—buried so deep it feels intentional—about the Ancestral Sphinx. Legend says the Wisdom Felines aren't a 'trash' race. They are the descendants of the Great Observers, beings whose minds were so powerful they could rewrite reality. But supposedly, their cores were 'sealed' by the ancient gods because they knew too much. They didn't grow weak unintentionally; they were tethered to the dust."
Lucas felt a chill. He looked down at Moxie, and as he did, he focused his intent, calling upon the status panel of his Grimoire.
[ Grimoire Page 2: Moxie ]
Species: Wisdom Feline (Ancestral Blood Awakening: 1.2%)
Quality: Bronze (Evolutionary Path: Psychic / Mind Sovereign)
State: Core Reconstruction (15% Complete)
Skills: > * Lesser Telepathy (Passive - Awakening)
Mind Pulse (Locked)
The black energy hadn't just been healing her; it was eating the "seal" Valorie spoke of. Moxie wasn't heading toward being a better cat; she was heading toward a psychic evolution that hadn't been seen in ages.
Lucas leaned back, his mind racing. He decided to test Valorie's knowledge further. "Valorie, what about the Grimoires themselves? Everyone talks about the five colors—White to Black. But is it possible... is there anything beyond that? A 'Third Tier' or a hidden rank?"
Valorie stopped writing. She looked around to ensure no one was listening.
"You're talking about Transcendental Horology," she whispered.
Valorie's eyes darted around the quiet alcove of the library, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum. She pulled a heavy, leather-bound volume toward her, its pages brittle with age.
"People think the Black Grimoire is the peak," she whispered, her finger tracing a faded diagram of a book that looked like it was forged from liquid night. "But they're wrong. The Black Tier is merely the entrance to the Crystal Set Tiers."
Lucas leaned in, his heart steady but his mind sharp. "The Crystal Set?"
"Precisely," Valorie said, her eyes gleaming with the fever of a true researcher. "Beyond the known colors lies a hierarchy of clarity. It starts with Diamond Rank and ascends through tiers that most scholars think are just myths. But there is a catch—a price that stops even the most ambitious masters. To even attempt the breakthrough from Black to Diamond, you cannot just be lucky. You must have a foundation that defies logic."
She tapped a charred section of the text.
"The legend says you must have a contract with ten General-level beasts simultaneously. And they must all be at their peak. Can you imagine the soul pressure? It would be like trying to hold ten suns inside a glass bottle. Most Spiritas' souls would shatter before the ninth beast even touched the page."
Lucas stayed silent, his hand resting instinctively over his hidden Grimoire. He didn't mention the Mythical creature sleeping in his first page; he let Valorie believe he was simply a curious student of the craft.
"Ten Generals," Lucas mused, his voice neutral. "That's a tall order for anyone in the Veridian Marches."
"It's impossible for anyone here," Valorie corrected with a dry laugh. "But that's why the Crystal Tiers remain a secret. People prefer to believe they've reached the top rather than admit they aren't strong enough to climb higher."
Following Valorie's directions, Lucas left the safety of Aethelgard's walls and headed toward the Whispering Trenches. This wasn't a place for merchants or casual travelers. The trenches were deep, jagged scars in the earth where the mana was dense, heavy, and chaotic.
The air here felt thick, like walking through water. Strange, glowing fungi grew on the trench walls, pulsing with a pale blue light. As Lucas descended, the sound of the wind through the ravines began to sound like voices—a thousand hushed conversations overlapping at once.
"Stay close, Moxie," Lucas whispered.
Moxie was already alert. Her fur was standing on end, and her eyes—now flecked with deep violet—darted toward every shadow. Thanks to the "Mind Sovereign" path she was now on, her senses were far beyond those of a normal kitten.
Suddenly, Moxie let out a low, vibrating growl.
A group of Shadow-Stalker Jackals emerged from the gloom. These weren't the common beasts of the hills. Their bodies were made of a semi-solid smoke, and their eyes were glowing red embers. They didn't growl; they hissed like steam escaping a pipe.
"Six of them," Lucas noted, summoning his Blue Grimoire. "Moxie, this is your first real test. Can you handle the mental pressure?"
Moxie didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, her tiny frame dwarfed by the pack of jackals. A faint, shimmering ripple of air expanded from her head—the first signs of her Lesser Telepathy being used as a weapon.
One of the jackals lunged, but it stopped mid-air, its body convulsing. It let out a confused yelp and turned, snapping its jaws at its own pack members. Moxie was projecting a pulse of sheer mental confusion directly into its brain.
"Beautiful," Lucas whispered. He watched as Moxie navigated the battlefield, not with claws or teeth, but by turning the jackals against each other.
Inside the Grimoire, the status panel flickered:
[ Battle Log ]
Moxie used Mental Interference.
Shadow-Stalker Jackal is confused.
Core Stability: Rising (18%) — The combat is accelerating the reconstruction!
As the last jackal fled into the darkness, Lucas felt a sudden, sharp heat in his Dantian. The "Miniature Tower" he was building within his soul pulsed. By contracting Moxie and allowing her to fight, the feedback of mana was helping him stabilize his own foundation.
He looked deeper into the trenches. Somewhere in these depths, there were stronger beasts—beasts that could help him reach the level of a General. He had a long way to go to reach ten, and an even longer way to reach the Diamond Tier, but for the first time, the path was clear.
"The Whispering Trenches are just the beginning, Moxie," Lucas said, scooping her up as she purred with newfound strength. "We have an Empire to face."