Nero did not even notice as the night passed, so focused on his task was he. Yet, throughout the night, he went through eleven pine cones, unable to grasp hold of the spell model even once. His parents expected as much, so they were not surprised.

The repeated failures did not wear him down, however. Before and after each attempt he would spend a great amount of time thinking, recalling what he did wrong and focusing on where he needed to improve.

When they got back in the van, Nero opted to go to sleep instead of continuing his attempts. The sun was at high noon when he woke up, and they had paused once more to clear the path from curses. His father, who did not feel bad at all for making his wife do all the fighting, had his feet hanging out the window and a hat covering his head. He did not seem concerned at all.

Nero paid him no mind and pulled out a pine cone. A part of him was really worried about Irene. It had already been so long. Who knew how she was faring? Yet there was nothing he could do about it, at least for now.

Nero closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. He repeated the same thing a few times until he was completely calm, and all external thoughts had been driven away..

Then, with renewed vigour, he began working on the pine cone. His aether flowed out of his fingertips and covered the body of the pine cone, hugging it tightly. If aether were a physical force, he could have held the pine cone up in the air based solely on how tightly he was holding on to it with his aether.

Slowly and deliberately, Nero then pushed the aether inside, ignoring the massive loss of aether and the resistance the cone itself offered. When his aether finally came into contact with the spell model, Nero wrapped his aether around it effortlessly in a single go, and held onto it as firmly as he could, well aware of the limits that the spell model could tolerate before his aether went inside.

Then he began to crush the pine cone. Although his movements were slow, there was no hesitation in them. As the pine cone was crushed, Nero felt the turbulence within the cone as if it were his own body being shaken about. He could feel the world breaking around the spell model, and in fact, right through it as well.

Nero had already realised that he was able to pull and push the spell model if he so wished, so as the pine cone was crushed, he moved the model just enough to keep it with a large enough piece.

He also felt pressure on his aether, almost prompting him to increase the strength of his aether. But if he did that, everything would collapse as his aether would enter into the model, loosening its protection from external factors, causing the entire model to dissipate.

No, Nero had to protect the model using the exact same concentration of aether, and he did exactly that.

After a single night of contemplation and consideration, as well as a few trials, he was not at the level of being called a master, but he was at least sufficiently competent.

For the first time, Nero succeeded in crushing the entire pine cone without letting the spell model break. Theoretically, he could not directly proceed to the next step of card crafting, but since he had a few more days to try, he did not want to give up so easily.

He easily picked out the piece with the spell mode and brought out the file, and began to shave it. So focused was he on the piece of cone that he missed it when Edward suddenly raised his hat to stare at Nero with surprise.

Shaving the piece of cone was exceptionally difficult, because he had to be aware of where, physically, the spell model was inside the piece of cone, which was easier said than done. At first it seemed like he was doing just fine, but after a few minutes his file touched the part of the cone containing the spell model, and the model immediately collapsed.

Nero froze for a moment, deep regret welling up inside of him, but it was already done. Since he had failed, he put down the cone piece and file, only to find both his parents staring at him.

“What?” Nero asked.

“Nothing. Keep practising at your own pace. I’ll give you two more days at most before we move on. Do what you can in the meantime.”

Nero nodded, and then began once again considering where he went wrong and what he could do better. He could not help but think of how effective Silas’ eyesight would be for the filing process. It was as if Silas was literally born just to craft cards.

For other people, that comment could have been a compliment, but knowing Silas’ father, Nero wouldn’t be shocked if he specifically chose a wife just so that his progeny would be skilled artisans. As for the mother… Nero did not even want to think about what she would be like.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed out these random thoughts and began to focus on filing the spell model. First, he needed to somehow get a better picture of the spell model’s shape – he didn’t want to just rely on the memory of the shape his mother had carved out. Second, he needed to identify where the spell model was.

At his current pace, he estimated it would take one more day before he mastered it to a sufficient level.

*****

Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.

The sound of trotting horses filled the air, the stone road beneath them a sign of a nearing settlement. Unlike Kolar, Saint Codale didn’t have large-scale access to vehicles, mostly because they were mainly produced in Nova, so most travel occurred on horseback – or camelback, or on the back of any sufficiently large animal in the vicinity.

Of course, the technology being decades old had already been stolen and mastered, but no one could quite mass produce like Nova could, so even now the vast majority of the populace was not used to vehicles. The roads, then, were also not of great quality, which is what had slowed down Patrick and Invictus.

“Do you think they have good food at Evergreen Sect?” Invictus asked, not for the first time. He was an exceptional warrior and soldier, capable of tolerating grevious wounds and fighting through the bitter cold against curses that should have easily devoured someone of his level. He could tolerate all kinds of trials and tribulations, but the man refused to tolerate hunger.

“It’s a sect,” Patrick said, matter of factly. “It should be housing tens of thousands of Adherents. I’m sure not only do they have food, they also probably have good food.”

“Gosh, I hope so. Wild jackrabbit ahead, 300 metres – at least an Initiate level.”

“There you go, jackrabbit. You can cook your lunch yourself.”

“Nah, I’m not in the mood,” Invictus said. “I want to eat food someone else made, filled with love.”

“I don’t know about filled with love, but I’ll take it filled with meat,” Patrick said as they reached the top of a hill, allowing them a clear view of a sprawling city right in their path.

“The sect looks… pedestrian. I expected something a little more grand,” Patrick said.

“That’s not the sect, that’s Pineneedle city, which comes under the territory of the sect. You can’t just enter a sect at will – you’ll be killed. The city is considered to be at the foot of the sect, and all trade and official matters are handled here. If we want to go close to the sect without being killed, we’ll need a guide from here.

Fortunately, we already have a contact in the city who will connect us to the sect. We’ll be posing as middlemen for a blackmarket artisan from Kolar, contacting the sect for trade.”

“Quite a convenient cover,” Patrick said, slightly distracted. He felt movement from one of his tattoos so he stood still, allowing it to behave as it wished.

“It’s not a cover. Whisper Guard has maintained actual black market transactions with multiple forces, just for such an occasion. The artisan we are representing is an agent as well, which is why we cannot blow our cover, as it will affect his other contacts as well.”

“Understood,” Patrick said as a small black outline of a pigeon climbed out from his collar, and suddenly took flight.

“What the hell was that?” Invictus said, shocked. He hadn’t felt any aether fluctuations from it whatsoever!

“Ever heard of a homing pigeon?” Patrick asked as his gaze lingered over the city. “The pigeon has found its target. We don’t need to enter the sect. The targets are in the city.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep