Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Printer Ink and Hacking Spells

The path to the fake document maker’s “office” didn’t go through paved roads, but through the city’s foul-smelling belly. Kancil led Dayat and Dola down mossy stone stairs into the ancient sewer system beneath the Slums.

“Watch out, Bro,” Kancil yelled, his voice echoing in the dark tunnel lit only by bioluminescent moss on the walls. “Don’t step in the neon green water. That’s alchemy factory waste. If it touches your shoes, the soles will melt.”

Dayat jumped to avoid the suspicious puddle while holding his nose. “Crazy, is this a rat path or a monster’s intestine? The smell is worse than my friend’s boarding house room that never gets cleaned.”

Dola walked behind Dayat, her steps remaining elegant even in the filth. She lifted her hobo cloak slightly to avoid the mud.

“Air Analysis: High concentration of methane and sulfur gas,” Dola reported. Her voice was calm, but there was a new tone there. A tone of… annoyance. “This place is inefficient for human respiration. Master is advised to breathe through the mouth.”

Dayat turned. “Since when do you complain about smells, Dol? Usually, you just give percentage numbers.”

“I am not complaining. I am providing health advice,” Dola evaded, then turned her face away slightly. That small gesture—looking away in annoyance—was something she had never done before.

They walked for about twenty minutes until they reached a thick iron door embedded in the sewer wall. The door was covered in faded magic seals.

Kancil knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern. Thud-thud… Thud… Thud.

The door opened with a heavy creak.

Inside, it wasn’t the damp room Dayat imagined. The room was dry, warm, and filled with the smell of old paper and herbal ink. Tall bookshelves towered to the ceiling, crammed with scrolls, dusty tomes, and stacks of parchment.

In the center of the room sat an old man with long pointed ears—an Elf. But not a beautiful Elf like in the movies. This Elf was old, hunched, wearing thick-lensed glasses, and his fingers were stained with permanent black ink.

His name was Vael, the Exiled Scholar.

“Kancil,” Vael’s voice sounded like tearing paper. “Bringing me more customers? Or more trouble?”

“VIP Customers, Gramps!” Kancil exclaimed, jumping to sit on a stack of books. “They need ’Magic Papers’. Two pieces.”

Vael looked at Dayat and Dola over his glasses. His gaze was sharp, inquisitive.

“Two Class-F Citizen Permits. The cost is 500 Silver. Or…” Vael looked at Dola—more precisely at Dola’s cloak hiding something. “Or barter with something interesting.”

“500 Silver?!” Dayat was shocked. “We only have 60, Gramps! That’s expensive!”

“That’s the price of risk, Kid. If I get caught forging Guild stamps, my head gets chopped off,” Vael replied casually, dipping his quill back into a dried ink bottle. He sighed roughly. “Damn. Out of ink again. Nightshade Ink is hard to get since the Church monopolized the magic plant trade.”

Dayat and Dola looked at each other.

Dola stepped forward. She whispered something to Dayat. “Data Transmission: Chemical Composition of Industrial Quality Black Ink (Carbon Black + Polymer Resin). Master can manifest it.”

Dayat smiled. This was his opening.

“Grandpa Vael,” Dayat said, approaching the workbench. “How about I pay with ink? But not ordinary ink. Ink that is blacker than night, dries in 2 seconds, and is waterproof.”

Vael laughed dismissively. “Kid, I’ve been writing since before your grandfather was born. There is no such ink without dark magic.”

“See for yourself.”

Dayat closed his eyes. He received the data package from Dola. Modern ink chemical formula. Plastic bottle with a pointed tip.

ZING. Purple light glowed.

Dayat placed two 100ml ink bottles on Vael’s desk. The bottles were clear, revealing the pitch-black liquid inside, viscous yet fluid.

Vael picked up one bottle. He opened the cap, sniffing the scent.

“Chemical smell… sharp. No herbal scent,” he mumbled. He dripped a little onto parchment paper. The ink absorbed perfectly, forming a highly contrasting black dot. He rubbed it. No smudge.

The old Elf’s hands trembled. “By the Ancestors… It’s pure. Extremely pure. How did you make this without an Alchemist furnace?”

“Trade secret,” Dayat said with a wink. “These two bottles for two Fake Ids. Deal?”

Vael stared at the bottles with the lust of an artist finding the best paint. “Deal. Give me an hour. Magic stamps need time to dry.”

Vael immediately got busy with his pen and new ink, muttering praises for the “magic” ink.

While waiting, Dayat nudged Dola’s arm.

“One hour, Dol. What do you want to do? Play Ludo?”

Dola’s eyes were already locked on the bookshelves behind Vael.

“This is not just a document shop, Master,” Dola whispered. “Look at the titles on the shelf. ’Advanced Mana Theory’, ’History of the Tek War’, ’Ancient Golem Mechanics’. Vael is not an ordinary forger. He is a hoarder of forbidden knowledge.”

“Oh?” Dayat understood. “Great chance to download knowledge.”

Dayat cleared his throat. “Gramps, while waiting, can we read the books?”

“Read away. Just don’t take them outside,” Vael answered without turning, too engrossed in writing.

Dola wasted no time. She walked to the dustiest bookshelf—the history and magic theory section.

She picked up the first book. Thick, imitation dragon skin cover.

Flip. Flip. Flip.

Kancil, eating a stolen apple in the corner, looked at Dola in horror again. He had seen this yesterday, but still, watching someone turn pages as fast as a fan blade was terrifying.

This time, Dola wasn’t just scanning text. She was performing Cognitive Synchronization.

Thanks to the upgrade triggered by Dayat’s energy earlier, Dola’s processor could now perform “Cross-Referencing” between Earth Science Logic and Aethera Magic Logic.

Inside Dola’s HUD (Head-Up Display), data flowed like a matrix waterfall.

[Processing Concept: Fire Spell.]

[Book Definition: “Summoning salamander spirits to heat the air.”]

[Dola’s Logic Translation: “Oxygen molecule manipulation and kinetic friction to trigger rapid exothermic reaction.”]

Dola frowned. Her brows knitted together.

“Inefficient,” Dola muttered softly.

“Why, Dol?” asked Dayat who stood next to her, pretending to read an old magazine.

“This book was written by an idiot,” Dola complained. Her tone sounded annoyed—truly annoyed like a human reading a hoax post. “The author claims that Mana must be sung (chanting) to work. Yet data shows Mana is wave energy. Voice is merely a frequency trigger. They waste 3 seconds singing when it could be done instantly with mind resonance.”

Dayat gaped. “Wow… did you just call the wizards of this world idiots?”

“Not calling names. It is statistical fact. Their methods are primitive,” Dola closed the book with a loud BAM, then grabbed another.

Dayat smiled. Dola was becoming more “alive” every day. She started having opinions. She started having intellectual arrogance. That was far better than a robot who only said “Affirmative”.

Dola continued reading. One book. Ten books. Fifty books. Imaginary smoke seemed to come out of her ears from how fast she processed information.

Suddenly, Dola’s hand movement stopped.

She was holding a thin book titled ’Basic Structure of Mana Crystals’.

Dola’s blue eyes shone brighter. This time, she didn’t look at the writing on the paper. She looked… through the paper.

Her Scanning Range v1.2 feature began to evolve again thanks to the new data she absorbed. She started understanding energy patterns.

She turned to the room light—a yellow crystal ball hanging from the ceiling, glowing wirelessly.

To Dayat’s eyes, it was just a magic lamp.

To Dola’s previous eyes, it was just a 600-lumen light source.

But to Dola’s eyes now, she saw Circuits.

She saw thin energy flows like golden threads flowing from the crystal, spinning in complex geometric patterns, then returning to the center. It wasn’t abstract magic. It was Coding.

[Detecting Mana Algorithm.]

[Pattern: Closed Loop.]

[Key Variable: Light Input = True.]

Dola’s hand raised slowly toward the lamp. The distance was five meters. She didn’t touch it.

“Dol? What are you doing?”

“Testing a hypothesis,” Dola whispered.

Inside her processor, Dola sent out a modulated microwave signal mimicking the Mana frequency she read from the book. She had no Mana of her own (other than from Dayat), but she could emit a jamming signal.

She tried to “cut” the imaginary golden thread she saw.

[Injection Command: Light Input Variable = False.]

PET.

The crystal lamp on the ceiling suddenly died. The room went pitch black.

“HEY!” Vael shouted in shock. “Who turned off the light?! The battery is new!”

Kancil shrieked in surprise.

Dayat looked at Dola in the darkness. The blue light from Dola’s eyes was the only thing glowing bright, and there was a small, very satisfied smile on her face.

“Interesting,” Dola whispered. “Magic is merely technology that doesn’t have a manual yet.”

Dola lowered her hand. She stopped her jamming signal.

TING.

The light turned on again by itself.

Vael stood up, confused, looking at the lamp. “Weird… must be ether interference. Damn, my eyes hurt.”

Only Dayat knew what just happened. His robot wife just hacked a magic lamp. No spell. No wand. Just by staring at it.

“Dol…” Dayat swallowed hard. “Did you just… turn off the light using Wi-Fi?”

“More precisely, I disrupted its mana structure stability,” Dola corrected, returning to her calm mode. “This opens new tactical opportunities, Master. If I can cut the Mana flow of a lamp, theoretically, I can do the same to magic weapons or door locks.”

“Mana Hacking,” Dayat concluded. “You really are a Cyberpunk Mage.”

“Done!” Vael shouted suddenly.

He held up two sheets of thick paper stamped with Dayat’s pitch-black ink. The stamp shimmered magically—fake but perfect.

“These are your Ids,” Vael said, handing them to Dayat. “Name: Hidayat and Dola. Origin: South Outskirts Village (so no one checks). Status: Class F Citizens.”

Dayat took the paper. It felt like holding a ticket to freedom.

“Thanks, Gramps. Keep the rest of the ink.”

“Of course I’m keeping it! Go before a patrol comes!” Vael shooed them away, impatient to experiment with his new ink.

They exited the sewer with a new status. They were no longer illegal immigrants. They were official (fake) citizens of Bakasa City.

As they walked back to the surface, Dola walked more upright. She no longer felt blind to this world. Her head was now full of maps, war history, and basic magic formulas ready to be dismantled.

“Master,” Dola said when they saw sunlight again.

“Yes?”

“Based on the history books earlier, I found one data anomaly related to Master.”

“About what?”

“About Master’s energy. Those books state that humans cannot produce Mana themselves, they can only absorb it from nature. But my sensors indicate Master produces energy from within. Master is a Generator, not a Battery.”

Dayat stopped. “So what does that mean?”

“It means, Master is not a mage. Master is something else. And we must find out what before the Church or Nobles realize it.”

Dola looked at Dayat with an analytical yet warm gaze.

“And I think, I just unlocked a new feature to scan Master’s ’energy’ deeper. Tonight, I need permission to perform a comprehensive scan.”

Dayat shuddered. “Comprehensive scan? That sounds ambiguous.”

“Just a medical procedure, Master. Don’t catch feelings (Jangan Baper).”

Dayat laughed. Dola had really learned how to use that word.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep