Ray had a realization. His The Fulcrum Principle was powerful, but it relied on what the environment provided. What if the environment was unfavorable and he couldn’t use anything? He decided he needed to start carrying his own opportunities, small, prepared items that could be deployed to create the very hazards and leverage points his art was designed to exploit.

He moved to his desk, his frustration replaced by a new, focused purpose. He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began to draft a list of necessary supplies, a shopping list for a new kind of arsenal, as his archetypes offered their specialized expertise in a rapid-fire brainstorming session in his mind.

Scholar: “Logically, we must control the battlefield’s physical properties. I propose alchemical reagents for two primary applications: a particulate suspension to create visual occlusion, a smoke bomb and a low-viscosity lubricant to drastically reduce the coefficient of friction on any surface.”

Veteran: “Forget your fancy science. You need area denial. Simple, four-pointed caltrops. Stops a cavalry charge, stops a man in his tracks. Cheap, effective, and it works every damn time.”

Conman: “Too brutal, old man! You don’t need to stop them; you just need them to look the other way. A pinch of flash powder, a bright, disorienting bang… and by the time they can see again, you’re gone. It’s not about winning the fight; it’s about winning the moment.”

Healer: “All of these are so… violent. If neutralization is the goal, a simple, fast-acting irritant powder would suffice. A compound that induces temporary blindness and respiratory distress without causing permanent harm. A more… elegant solution.”

Ray calmly wrote down each suggestion, his mind already beginning to synthesize the disparate philosophies into a single, versatile toolkit. He looked at the completed list, a collection of simple but effective tools for a combat physicist. This provided the perfect motivation for his next outing. He needed to go shopping at the academy’s market and supply district.

The next day at the academy’s market district, it was a vibrant, chaotic organism of commerce. Students from every college haggled with merchants over everything from rare spell components to sturdy training swords. Ray, Rina, and Sergeant Svane moved through the crowd, Rina clutching a long list of household supplies, while Ray held his own secret shopping list for his new arsenal.

Ray’s gaze drifted towards a narrow, dimly lit alley between the main stalls, where the air smelled of strange minerals and acrid smoke, the alchemists’ quarter. He knew Svane’s intimidating, professional presence would draw unwanted attention in the shady stalls he needed to visit. He stopped near the main square and turned to his bodyguard.

Activating Concurrent Partial Immersion and using Grizzled Veteran’s Command Aura together with the World Weary Healer’s ‘Calming Presence’ skill, his voice calm and formal, Ray spoke to Sergeant Svane like a commander would deploy a subordinate.

“Sergeant, Rina’s task is vital and the supplies are heavy. Your primary duty for the next hour is to act as her escort and protection. Ensure she and our household provisions return safely. I must procure some sensitive research materials that require a delicate touch. I will meet you back at the main square.”

Sergeant Svane was visibly conflicted, his duty to remain by Ray’s side warring with the clear, logical order from his charge. After a long, tense moment, his professionalism won out. He gave a single, curt nod.

“Understood, Lord Croft.”

Svane turned and departed with Rina, leaving Ray standing alone in the bustling square. Ray then turns to walk alone toward the dimly lit alley of the alchemists’ stalls, a look of focused purpose on his face, completely unaware that he has just willingly separated himself from both of his protectors.

Later that day Ray emerged from the dimly lit alley of the alchemists’ stalls, a small, heavy satchel of his new supplies tucked securely at his side. He felt a quiet sense of accomplishment. His plan was in motion. He scanned the bustling market square, expecting to wait for some time, but he was immediately met by a familiar figure hurrying toward him. It was Rina, her expression slightly flustered from navigating the crowd.

“There you are, young master!”

she said, her voice a little breathless.

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“Sergeant Svane is overseeing the loading of the main supplies at the north gate cart. He said it would be quicker if we cut through the artisan’s alley to meet him.”

She pointed towards a quiet, narrow alley between the weaver’s guild and a stonemason’s workshop.

Ray simply nodded and agreed.

“Alright,”

he said with an easy smile.

“Lead the way.”

He followed her as she turned and led him away from the bright, noisy square and into the quiet, shadowed confines of the narrow alley.

The moment they stepped into the alley, the bustling noise of the market was cut off, replaced by a sudden, echoing quiet. The air was cool and still. Before Ray had taken three steps, a silent, deafening alarm screamed in the deepest, most primal part of his being.

Veteran: “AMBUSH! GET DOWN! EYES UP! WE’RE IN THE KILL BOX!”

An intense, predatory gaze, invisible but overwhelmingly real, locked onto him. His calm expression shattered.

He reacted instantly, all thought replaced by pure, trained instinct. He grabbed the startled ‘Rina’s’ arm and yanked her behind him, his own small body dropping into a low, defensive stance. As his eyes scanned the empty, shadowed alley, the Gritty Detective’s Observation Skills came online, its voice a low growl of professional focus guiding his search.

Detective: “Easy, kid, don’t just stare. Sweep the angles. Check the rooftops first, then the doorways. Look for the shadow that doesn’t belong.”

Ray scanned the dark doorways, the shuttered windows, and the high rooftops, searching for the unseen hunter.

“Ray? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Rina asked, her voice a startled and genuine fear.

Ray didn’t answer. He saw nothing. The alley was empty. But the crushing sense of imminent danger was immense, a physical weight pressing down on him. As the Veteran’s instincts screamed warnings of an ambush, a quieter, calmer thought from the Serene Cultivator surfaced in his mind:

Cultivator: The threat can’t be seen with the naked eyes.

He understood. He was looking for someone who can possibly do a ranged attack, or someone in the shadows that can stab them, but the danger was something else entirely. He focused his will inward. Doing Tri-Concurrent Partial Immersion, Ray Activated the Serene Cultivator’s Aetheric Perception skill.

His vision shifted. The solid, mundane world of stone and shadow dissolved into a flowing river of light and energy. He saw the faint, simple auras of the people on the main street, their life-forces like distant, flickering candles.

Then, he looked at the person cowering behind him. He looked at Rina.

He knew Rina’s Aetheric signature intimately. Through their months of close training and the bond of the Understudy Protocol, he had come to recognize the very essence of her soul. It was a warm, gentle, and steady light, as simple and kind as her heart.

What he saw now was like a blasphemy. He saw a perfect, paper-thin copy of Rina’s aura, a shimmering veneer of warmth and kindness that flickered at the edges like a faulty illusion. And beneath that fragile mask, a chaotic, ancient, impossibly complex storm of power raged—a vortex of old and alien energies that felt like staring into a starless abyss.

It was not her.

The truth struck him not as a thought, but as a physical blow. His body reacted with pure, instinctual horror. He shoved “Rina” away from him, his face a mask of utter terror and revulsion.

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

he screamed, his voice breaking, all of his carefully constructed composure shattering in an instant.

“WHERE IS RINA?!”

Rina’s expression of confusion shifted to surprise then to one of genuine, impressed wonder. A small, appreciative laugh escaped her lips.

“Remarkable,”

she whispered, her voice no longer Rina’s but a crisp, amused alto. Then, she fled.

Her movements were impossibly agile, a blur of motion that was not the Flowing Shadow Technique he had taught Rina, but a different, equally effective art of silent, fluid grace.

Ray gave chase, his mind a storm of terror and fury. He activated The Fulcrum Principle. As the impostor darted past a stack of loose crates, the visualization appeared in his mind: a shimmering line showing the perfect trajectory. He kicked a single, loose crate at the base of the pile. The crate skidded across the stone, striking the impostor’s ankle and causing her to stumble.

She recovered with inhuman speed, looking back at him with a flash of surprised awe before continuing her retreat. She stopped at the end of the alley, partially hidden in shadow, and turned to face him.

“To see through a flawless performance with a sense I cannot even perceive… You truly are an anomaly, Ray Croft. The first to ever do so.”

“Where is she? What have you done with Rina?!”

Ray demanded, his voice raw.

The impostor smiled, and her form began to change. The transformation was visceral and unsettling. ‘Rina’s’ features seemed to melt like hot wax, her face losing all definition, her hair receding and changing color. It reformed into a face that was a perfect, forgettable blank slate—features so average and unremarkable that the mind struggled to hold onto them for more than a second. The figure, still wearing Rina’s clothes, gave a slight, formal bow.

“My apologies for the theatrics. You may call me K. A colleague from your old associates, the Argent Hand. I was merely curious, but this… this is far more interesting than I could have hoped. You are a fascinating new toy.”

K gave a mock bow, then leaped backward into the deepest shadows of the alley and simply vanished. Ray was left standing in the empty alley, his heart shattered.

“K!”

he screamed, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

“What did you do to her?! WHERE IS RINA?!”

Only a faint, echoing whisper answered him from the shadows:

“I didn’t do anything to her…”

Ray was left alone in the alley, his heart shattered with terror and uncertainty. If this agent from the Argent Hand called ‘K’ didn’t do anything to her, then where is the real Rina?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep