Sitting beneath the light of the crystal lamp, Alphonse stared intently at the [Tier 1 - Cleanse] scroll on his desk.
To Alphonse, knowing how to produce goods was far more important for building power than merely learning how to destroy things. He recalled his glory days in Orion Online.
The twenty-three core members of the Pioneer Guild did not top the hierarchy simply because they were a collection of players holding Unique Jobs with destructive power capable of leveling a kingdom.
The guild's combat strength was heavily supported by players fully dedicated to various Crafting roles.
Pioneer had alchemists who brewed high-tier elixirs, blacksmiths who forged rare materials into Legendary Tier equipment, and even a Scroll Master capable of mass-producing magic scrolls.
Without that logistical foundation and production chain, even the greatest combat force would crumble on the battlefield from a lack of resources.
Now, standing in the world of Orion without an interface system facilitating instant production, Alphonse realized something. To build his faction from scratch, he had to master the production system of this world.
However, to unravel that secret, he had to face his terror once more.
Alphonse drew a slow breath. A drop of cold sweat began to trickle from his temple.
The memory of the giant Eye entity staring at him in outer space—siphoning all his mana dry without resistance—was still strongly imprinted in the depths of his memory. His hands resting on his knees clenched slightly.
He had to fight that trauma if he wanted his group to have a chance at facing other players.
With his eyes closed and a will of steel, he invoked his ultimate ability with a barely audible voice.
"[Tier EX - Akashic Terminal]."
His consciousness was instantly pulled from the inn room, shooting past physical boundaries.
When he opened his eyes again, the air felt empty and weightless. He was back standing in the center of the Akashic space, upon a floor that glowed like a galactic mirror.
He looked up quickly, his heart racing. There was nothing up there but the silent vacuum of outer space.
"Phew..."
The tension in Alphonse's body instantly loosened. His shoulders dropped slowly upon realizing no giant eye entity was staring at him this time. He was safe.
It seemed this Akashic space was not something that could be easily intruded upon by outside consciousness randomly.
Directing his gaze to the Cosmic Mandala floating before him, Alphonse visualized the magic parchment he had in his room.
"Dissect its assembly structure," Alphonse commanded. "Show me the manufacturing process of this Magic Scroll I possess."
The Cosmic Mandala responded. The glowing rings spun rapidly, refracting light and weaving it into a highly realistic visual sequence before him.
Alphonse saw the projection of a wild rabbit monster with jagged horns. The creature was skinned. Its fur was removed, then the reddish hide was submerged into a wooden vat filled with a tanning liquid emitting a magical glow.
That process transformed the skin into a sheet of tough parchment capable of withstanding the flow of tier-one magic without tearing.
The visualization shifted smoothly. Fresh blood from the horned rabbit was collected in a bowl.
Then, fragments of a low-grade Mana Stone were crushed into a very fine powder and mixed into the blood.
The mixture, heated by a small flame, created a thick, reddish magical ink capable of conducting a stable flow of mana.
The Mandala now displayed the figure of a Scroll Master sitting at a workbench inside a stone room. The mage was using a glass pen—a slender-bodied pen that was entirely transparent, with an incredibly precise spiraled tip.
The mage dipped the tip of the glass pen into the bottle of magical ink. The reddish ink crept upward slowly against gravity, filling the spiral grooves on the glass smoothly.
He then began to draw intricate magic circle patterns upon the surface of the leather parchment.
Along with every stroke carving geometric lines and angles, the mage continuously channeled mana from within his body.
Through that clear glass material, Alphonse could clearly see how the blue energy glow from the mage's hand flowed into the pen's stem, merging perfectly with the red ink at the spiraled tip, before finally being slowly injected onto the paper.
Alphonse narrowed his eyes, observing the nerve-wracking detail. Every line and curve had to be made with precision.
If the mage's hand trembled even slightly while channeling mana through the glass pen, the energy flow on the paper would collide.
The visualization displayed a failure; a slanted line caused the parchment to burn into ash in an instant due to a chaotic burst of energy.
After the magic circle was drawn perfectly, the ink pattern emitted a dim blue light. However, the process was not finished. The mage did not stop there.
The mage raised his hand above the parchment, then cast a spell. [Tier 3 - Magic Inscription].
That tier-three spell served a dual purpose. First, it sealed the volatile energy flow within the parchment, stabilizing it so the magic scroll could be stored for months without any mana leakage.
Second, at the same time, that layer of magic manipulated the visual form of the intricate pattern that had been painstakingly drawn.
The protective layer magically transformed the rune circle into the large crest of the Wealden Magic Tower, hiding its original mana circuitry from outside view.
[The magic circle is drawn on a magic parchment made from the skin of a horned rabbit monster, using magic ink made from a mixture of that monster's blood and mana stone powder, and sealed by the Scroll Master using the Magic Inscription spell.]
The visualization slowly faded, returning to the calmly spinning rings of the mandala. Alphonse stroked his chin in that vacuum of space.
He now clearly understood why Caspian Astora had immediately taken the [Tier 3 - Magic Inscription] spell manual after passing the exam. That sealing magic was not merely a power protector.
It was a copyright tool—a monopoly tactic by the mage faction to prevent their magic scrolls from being dissected, copied, and reproduced by outsiders. Vrischil's analysis in front of the Magic Tower's display case proved true.
Inside the Akashic space, Alphonse was not satisfied with merely being a spectator to a masterpiece. As a King, knowing how an item was made was only half the victory.
The other half was the ability to dismantle that monopoly and make it his own.
He looked straight into the center of the calmly glowing Cosmic Mandala. His ambition burned brightly.
"Follow-up question," Alphonse said with a voice echoing in the Akashic space. "How do I remove [Tier 3 - Magic Inscription] without damaging the basic structure of the magic scroll beneath it?"
Responding to that request, the mandala rings instantly spun at high speed. The blue and gold glow faded, replaced by an eye-blindingly clear silver light.
A new visual image emerged from behind that light.
Alphonse saw the projection of a mage raising his hand above a sealed parchment. The mage cast a spell, and from his fingertips, energy flowed acting exactly like an eraser.
The energy swept across the parchment's surface, obliterating the Magic Tower logo, and slowly restoring the original magic circle arrangement to the surface without scorching the paper.
New information, in the form of the spell's name, was instantly imprinted into Alphonse's consciousness.
[Tier 4 - Null Script]
Alphonse's heart raced. He did not waste this golden opportunity. Before the projection vanished, Alphonse made his final request.
"Present the entire magic circle structure of [Tier 4 - Null Script] before me. Now."
The silver mandala exploded into hundreds of lines of light floating in the air. The light arranged a highly complex geometric pattern.
Hundreds of energy flow lines intersected, crossed, and locked together mathematically, forming the formula for the seal-erasing spell.
[Tier 4 - Null Script]
Alphonse's golden eyes absorbed every detail of that pattern. He nailed every angle, curve, and required mana density into his memory.
He was stealing and absorbing crucial knowledge that should have taken years for a local mage to study, memorize, and master.
Satisfied with his harvest, Alphonse severed the connection to his skill. He opened his eyes, and his consciousness returned to his body sitting in the wooden chair in the inn room.
As soon as he returned to reality, a sharp dizziness struck his head. His breathing was ragged, and a wave of weakness spread rapidly from his fingertips to the base of his neck.
The intensive and continuous use of [Tier EX - Akashic Terminal] had drained a majority of the mana capacity within his body.
Alphonse stared at his two slightly trembling palms on his lap. However, behind that exhaustion, a faint smile laden with ambition slowly formed on his lips.
Various spells that never existed in the game... Alphonse murmured in his head. His eyes glinted, staring at the light of the crystal lamp. If I can master the native magic of this world, I will truly take off.
The dizziness did not halt his steps. Alphonse leaned forward, staring at the [Tier 1 - Cleanse] scroll lying on the table. It was time to test theory with practice.
Alphonse closed his eyes, re-visualizing the complex pattern of [Tier 4 - Null Script] he had just carved into his mind. He extended his right hand exactly above the Magic Tower logo on the parchment.
Nervousness crept in subconsciously. The tension caused his mental visualization focus to waver for a fraction of a second.
The silver lines of light that had only half-assembled the geometric pattern in the air suddenly vibrated wildly, lost stability, and collided with each other.
BAM!
A burst of energy exploded right above the table. An invisible shockwave struck Alphonse's chest, giving him a push that forced him backward until his back slammed hard against the wooden chair's backrest.
His black hair was blown into a mess, while the parchment and crystal lamp in front of him shifted violently. His first attempt had completely fallen apart.
Alphonse gripped his armrests tightly to stabilize himself, feeling a slight throb of pain in his chest from the rebound of that wild energy. He slowly corrected his sitting posture.
His hand moved to shift the crystal lamp so the lighting was even again, and gently smoothed the edge of the parchment that had folded slightly due to the shockwave.
Alphonse closed his eyes and drew a long breath. One... two... three... four... five. He exhaled slowly, calming his heartbeat's rhythm until it stabilized once more.
On the second attempt, Alphonse opened his eyes. His gaze was as sharp as an eagle's. He extended his hand and focused his mana into a precise mental visualization.
The air right above the parchment suddenly vibrated. Through a clear force of will, hundreds of silver lines of light slowly arranged themselves, carving the intricate geometric pattern of [Tier 4 - Null Script] floating perfectly in the air.
The magic circle spun slowly, emitting a stable glow of power. With a flick of his finger to provide one final push to the spell—
Ssshhhh...
A soft hissing sound was heard, like hot iron submerged in cold water.
The result was displayed before his eyes. The Magic Tower logo that was previously printed boldly, hiding the truth behind it, was now slowly fading.
The protective ink dissolved as if washed away by water, evaporating into the air.
In a matter of seconds, the copyright seal vanished without a trace, clearly revealing the original [Tier 1 - Cleanse] magic circle arrangement that was previously hidden neatly at the base of the parchment. He had successfully broken the mage faction's monopoly.
Seeing the success of the experiment, Alphonse's composure finally crumbled for a moment. He realized something soul-shaking.
He had just discovered the greatest potential of a Player stranded in this world.
Alphonse stood up from his chair so roughly that the wooden chair legs scraped backward. His hand clenched tightly, punching the air beside him.
"It worked! Ahahahaha..." Alphonse cheered with a loud voice and uninhibited laughter.
It was an outpouring of joy over his success, momentarily forgetting his image that was always dignified and controlled in front of his members.
Bang!
A sudden interruption shattered his moment of victory. The inn room door was busted open violently.
Vrischil darted in first. The Elf's emerald eyes narrowed sharply, her hand already prepared to summon the crystal shards of Fractal Ruin, assuming Alphonse was being attacked by an intruder. Behind her, Arcus followed with his bow drawn halfway.
However, instead of finding a bloodbath, the two Pioneer members froze in the doorway.
Arcus slowly lowered his bow. He stared at the bizarre sight before him with his mouth slightly open.
He saw Alphonse standing with a beaming face, panting from sheer excitement.
"Alphonse..." Arcus said in a tone of disbelief, his eyes blinking slowly. "Have you lost your mind?"