Lucas closed the door to his quarters, the sounds of the bustling Academy corridors fading into a dull hum. He moved to the small workstation beneath the window, carefully setting down the small, reinforced container he'd been carrying.
Inside, the little creature—a mercurial slime—looked worse than it had during his initial examination. It was a peculiar entity, a biological paradox that functioned like Liquid Metal but lacked the refined stability of high-end TID tech.
He didn't reach for his Grimoire yet. He knew from his earlier check that the slime's soul was still too fractured, its essence vibrating at a frequency that made a contract impossible for now. If he tried to bind it, the soul would simply shatter like glass.
Lucas leaned in, observing the way the silver liquid moved. It wasn't smooth; it was hitching, as if the "metal" was trying to solidify into jagged crystals at the edges.
Soul Status: Unstable. The "core" was dim, flickering like a dying bulb.
The Problem: It had been exposed to low-grade scrap for too long in Copper-Gully. Its body was rejecting its own liquid state.
Moxie hopped onto the desk, her violet eyes reflecting off the slime's dull surface. "It is still drifting, Papa," she whispered, her voice low. "The soul is like a flame in a storm. It cannot hold a shape because it does not know what it is yet. You cannot command a spirit that hasn't finished waking up."
Lucas didn't look for a grand miracle. He just needed to keep it from "freezing" into a lump of useless lead. He pulled out a small vial of Refined Silver-Ions he had salvaged—a byproduct of the Academy's testing labs. It wasn't a cure, but it was a stabilizer.
He carefully dripped a single bead of the fluid into the container. The slime reacted instantly, a small ripple traveling through its body as it greedily absorbed the metallic nutrients. The dull, rusted grey shifted back into a soft, cloudy chrome.
It wasn't fixed, and it certainly wasn't an army yet. It was just a weak, shivering puddle of potential.
Lucas watched the slime settle into a slow, rhythmic pulse. It was still a "scrap" in the eyes of the Empire—a failed experiment, a biological glitch. He looked at the obsidian sphere nearby, which remained silent and dormant, as if waiting for the slime to catch up.
For now, Lucas simply let the creature rest. He couldn't force the contract, and he couldn't rush the soul. He was a student in Aethelgard, and students had to be patient.
"Stay fluid," Lucas murmured, tapping the glass. "I'll find the rest of what you need."
He had the knowledge of Aethelgard at his fingertips now. Somewhere in the Academy's vast archives, there had to be a record of the specific liquid-metal catalyst that could stabilize a soul this fragile. He just had to find it before the first-year deployment began.
Lucas watched the slime absorb the silver ions, but the effect was fleeting. The chrome sheen flickered, then dimmed back into that sickly, leaden grey. It was like trying to fill a cracked vessel; the nutrients were being consumed, but the core wasn't holding the charge.
"It's not enough," Lucas muttered, his brow furrowed as he watched the creature's jagged, unstable movements.
Moxie hopped onto the desk, her paws silent. She tilted her head, her violet eyes glowing with a knowing light.
"It needs more than a snack, Papa. Its essence is leaking because its 'mold' is broken. To heal a creature of liquid metal, you need a catalyst of its own nature—a Primeval Mercury or a Living Font."
She paused, her gaze shifting toward the empty air before him—the space where the Black Book lay anchored within his very soul.
"But do not forget your hidden companion," Moxie whispered, her voice sliding into his mind like silk. "The Black Book did not just record my birth; it stabilized my existence. If it could anchor a Sphinx, it can provide the skeleton for a soul as fluid as this one."
Lucas felt the cold, heavy weight of the tome resting against his spirit. To him, it was still an enigma—a "magical book" he treated with extreme caution. In his eyes, the book was a dangerous blueprint, and he believed he still needed a physical "fuel" to make that blueprint a reality.
"If the Book is the architect," Lucas said softly, "then I still need the bricks. A liquid treasure to act as a physical anchor."
Earlier that afternoon, Lucas decided to find a way for this.
Lucas first decided to go to the mission hall Instead of seeking out the soot-stained corners of the lower city. He made his way to the Grand Central Plaza, where the Academy Mission Board stood as a towering monolith of crystalline glass and humming mana-circuits.
The atmosphere here was one of disciplined intensity. Groups of upper-year students in tailored combat robes stood in hushed circles, tapping their conduits against the board to download high-stakes deployment data. The air smelled of ozone and expensive parchment.
Lucas kept his head down, weaving through the crowd until he reached the Resource & Acquisition sub-menu. He didn't have the clearance for S-rank hunts or Imperial bounties, but he had something else: a talent for spotting the anomalies the Academy deemed "low priority."
He swiped through dozens of mundane tasks—escorting merchants, clearing mana-parasites from the sewers—until his fingers paused over a flickering entry near the bottom of the registry.
Mission ID: 09-ORIZON Objective:
Environmental Survey & Mana-Core Retrieval.
Location: Orizon-Sub (Sector 4 Ruins).
Status: Open (Low Priority / High Volatility).
Description: A half-sunken ghost city on the edge of the Primal Nexus. Once an ancient agricultural outpost, now overrun by rogue flora.
Note: Reports indicate "metallic leakage" in the central ruins. High risk of primordial mana-interference.
Lucas stared at the scrolling text. The Academy viewed Orizon-Sub as a graveyard of failed history, a place too "primitive" for the nobles to waste their time on. But the mention of metallic leakage and the Primal Nexus made his heart hammer against his ribs.
"A city forgotten by the world, Papa," Moxie's voice slid into his mind like silk. "The perfect sanctuary. That 'leakage' is the Living Font we need to anchor the creature."
Lucas didn't hesitate. He pressed his student emblem against the cold glass of the terminal.
Lucas memorized the coordinates and wiped the terminal with a quick gesture. He turned and disappeared back into the crowded chaos of the hall, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
He didn't know that the Yin Grimoire sitting in his soul already had the power to stabilize the slime without a single drop of treasure. What he only knew is that, for the first time, he had a real lead. He had a treasure to find, a life to save, and a journey into the dangerous wilds where the ancient world still breathed.