His processor ran the governing equations of solid-state arcanodynamics.
In standard human anatomy, most Awakeners possessed a maximum exergy of roughly 50Units—the true usable energy yield remaining after subtracting the thermodynamic friction and transmission dissipation lost while routing raw mana from the non-physical Mana Pool through the immaterial circuits to somatic extremities. In the Magic Language, standard casting commands typically drained 1Unit per syllable; the root command to Create (EKTQZT) stood as a notable exception in lower-tier spellcraft, demanding 5Units on its own to spark reality into existence. As a consequence of that steep transfer cost, an ordinary Awakener could discharge approximately five simple spells before their reserves suffered biological exhaustion.
Exergy increased exponentially toward the total mana in one's pool as Magic Control advanced through divine blessings, steadily eradicating the biological drag of immature conduits.
In condensed physical mediums, ten grams of crystallized mana—10g—typically fueled a single simple spell, translating to approximately 10Units of exergy when the syntax was executed in rapid, unbroken succession.
Standard small magic crystals were heavily diluted, storing a mere one gram of crystallized mana—1g—within a gross mineral mass of one hundred grams—100g. Large crystals contained vastly greater stores of crystallized energy, but just as in the soular mana organs branching through the human body, potential decayed across physical transport; far more energy was lost when channeled through massive, impure physical substrates. In stark contrast, crystals refined to exceptional purity achieved vastly superior energetic yields at an incomparably compact, convenient size.
Arthur completed his mental telemetry of the doorframe. In the pitch darkness behind his retinas, every porous mortar line glowed as an illuminated wire.
He chose four paths, perfectly symmetrical to each other—two tracing the vertical jambs, and two anchoring the upper lintel and stone threshold.
Reaching into the inner lining of his midnight uniform, Arthur drew out a fine brass Rune Engraver.
With masterclass dexterity, he set the tempered stylus against the lime skim. Without fracturing the surface, he scored Manapositive (Dqfqhglozoct) and Mananegative (Dqfqftuqzoct) glyphs into the porous mortar beneath, weaving alternating sequences along all four vectors to establish a continuous, high-frequency alternating current. He worked in absolute, rhythmic silence. It took him precisely ten minutes of surgical focus to complete each path—forty minutes of unbroken execution until the quadrilateral circuit sat primed and dormant within the masonry.
Arthur stepped back, sliding the engraver into his coat.
He crossed the room to the bare patch of floorboards near the foot of his cot.
Kneeling in the shadows, Arthur extended his fingers over the white pine plank. Channeling microscopic threads of mana across the grain, he systematically neutralized the ninety-eight nodes of the cerulean alchemical matrix, holding the delicate harmonic balance stable to prevent the underlying fail-safe circle of silver and void-ash from collapsing into self-immolating heat.
The plank unseated with a soft, airtight hiss.
Reaching into the dark cavity, Arthur withdrew four specialized crystals.
Eighty-nine percent purity—89%.
Each crystal had once held two hundred and sixty-seven grams—267g—of concentrated, crystallized mana. Now, stripped of their glowing mass, they rested in his palms as dull, thirty-three-gram—33g—silicate shells.
Yet they possessed two vital caveats.
First, their internal crystal lattices remained entirely uncorrupted—fully functional and ready to resume conductivity the instant external mana was reintroduced.
Second, Arthur had engineered their state through artificial extraction. He had painstakingly drawn the active mana out from their cores to forge an extreme negative mana pressure within each lattice chamber, immediately sealing the apertures with dense lead inhibitor caps.
In short, they were solid-state vacuums.
The moment an Awakener stepped across his threshold and channeled mana, the four dormant shells would transform into an unyielding, parasitic vortex ready to swallow up to one thousand and sixty-eight Units—1,068Units—of mana.
The mathematical parameters were devastating.
A sudden siphon of 1,068Units was sufficient to entirely drain the mana pool of any Expert-rank combatant, inducing violent arcane shock and leaving their vessel completely crippled for an hour.
Against a Saint-rank Awakener, the vacuum would bleed approximately 70% of their total reservoir, turning the kinetic balance of the room overwhelmingly in Arthur's favor.
And should an apex King-rank entity breach the chamber, siphoning up to 40% of their immense pool would inflict severe systemic drag—buying Arthur the critical tactical window required to escape into the dark.
Arthur seated the four crystal shells into the terminal junctions at the ends of the two symmetrical pairs of alternating current paths flanking the frame. Reaching out with surgical steadiness, he extracted the lead inhibitor caps.
He stepped back three paces from the entrance, auditing his work.
From three feet away, the shells were entirely swallowed by the shadow of the jamb, physically undetectable to the naked eye. They generated no acoustic footprint. Yet through retinas saturated with Deathly Aura, Arthur watched the microscopic motes of ambient mana shed by the brass Rune Engraver during forty minutes of friction. The drifting particles were seized instantly by the artificial potential gradient, wrenched violently along the alternating current mortar paths, and sucked straight into the vacuum lattices. The trap was armed.
Now, all Arthur had to do was wait. Or more accurately: construct the illusion of defenseless rest.
He stripped off his stiff, tailored midnight uniform coat, unburdening his shoulder joints, and drew on his full-black, light-absorbent cloak, fastening the wool high to his throat. With a muted scrape of oiled steel, he unsheathed his sword, slid the bare scabbard beneath the frame of his cot, and slipped carefully into the sheets with the naked blade pressed flat against his leg.
He feigned sleep. Beneath closed eyelids, however, the Deathly Aura stayed actively channeled across his sensory perimeters—heightening optic receptors, dilating auditory canals, and tuning olfactory nerves. He lay in absolute stillness, waiting for a noise.
Thud.
The dull impact reverberated through the dark.
It was not a noise from the door.
It came from behind him—at the casement window.
Arthur's processor ground against the sudden contradiction. The window?
The intruder had entered through the door the previous night; why would they use the window now? Had they identified the alternating current in the mortar? Had they noticed the trap? His mind was too fatigued from cumulative exertion to run comprehensive predictive branches, but he knew he had to adapt to the immediate physical threat.
Arthur flared the Deathly Aura over his entire body in an instantaneous, light-devouring surge. He vaulted from the mattress, sweeping off the sheets and leveling the tip of his bare sword straight at the glass.
Across the sill, the alchemical security seal he had placed on the latch incinerated in a violent hiss of heat and mana.
The casement swung wide inward.
Moonlight spilled over the intruder.
Their eyes locked across the steel.
Arthur stood frozen, the processor behind his pupils drawing a complete, dazed blank.
"Celeste?"