Micky was flying leisurely a dozen metres above the surface of the water, the peaks of the hill-sized waves occasionally washing over his talons. Though the bird wasn’t wasting his time, doing a bunch of things at once.

Perhaps, the most important one was working on his new boosting art.

Only the green lines were currently decorating his plumage, as he focused on the air pattern of the Dance. Long whirlpools of the same colour extended out of his pores, resembling the original version of the technique that Percy had learned from Tlaloc. The ribbons certainly seemed to suit the air version of the spell better than burning wisps or floating bubbles.

However, there were a few differences. The whirlpools were much longer, swirling around playfully – partly to capture as much air and ambient mana as possible, and partly because their very nature demanded it.

Micky was still at the early stages of developing the new spell but, experienced as they were, Percy and the clone had done a decent job figuring out many of the key concepts unique to this affinity. Hopefully, it would save him a lot of time down the line.

Sadly, Micky couldn’t keep the spell active constantly. He still had to alternate between that and Consumption. Given the relative scarcity of food in their surroundings, it was the only way to hold his hunger at bay and preserve his stamina. That was also why he was scanning the sea for his next meal and keeping an eye out for enemies.

Percy hadn’t absorbed the new trait yet, because he wanted to make sure they weren’t followed before he made the attempt. The last thing he needed was to end up surrounded by four powerful Blues with blessings and bloodlines right when he was at his weakest. Thankfully, it had been weeks since they left the continent, and it didn’t seem like anyone had bothered chasing.

‘We’re probably safe. Let’s stop on the next island we see,’ he said, eliciting a round of agreement from his companions.

For now, he retracted his thoughts back to his own body, focusing on the task at hand. Ignoring the salty breeze colliding with his face, he stared at the thin mana thread intently. His fingers moved with otherworldly dexterity, adjusting and rolling the intricate ingredients that comprised his magical silk.

If an outsider was to look at his hands, they might notice a thin, grey layer coating his palms. To Percy, the colour appeared more pronounced. It wasn’t mana – it was his soul, sticking close to the surface of his skin, even spilling outside here and there. It was denser near his fingertips, covered in lots of tiny appendices that resembled a spider’s legs. Yet, their joints bent in all the wrong directions.

At first glance, the spectral limbs appeared to move erratically. On closer inspection, there was order hiding beneath the chaos – a faint rhythm to their movements as they brushed over the mana threads, working in tandem with Percy’s conscious efforts to accelerate his production.

Before registering the spell, he hadn’t been able to manipulate the fine materials this easily. He had designed the ingredients in such a way that they could latch onto one another with minimal input from him – the hook-like grains were meant to interlock into a grid around the central thread, while the rest of the materials would coat the sheet that wrapped around it. Percy had even developed specialized techniques to mass-produce these materials without having to forge each crystal separately.

Upgrading Reinforcement into the Masterful Spectral Art had changed everything.

Percy could now clearly perceive everything going on between his fingers. He’d also learned to cooperate with the Weaving trait seamlessly after months of arduous practice. He could produce the materials in real time, rolling them up into coherent and flawless strings several times faster.

Keeping at it for several hours, he hadn’t glanced even once at the blueish-grey strand fluttering for dozens – if not hundreds – of metres behind him. It was growing by just over a finger’s length per second, or roughly the crow’s wingspan per minute. At this rate, Percy could produce enough for his project in a couple of weeks – a massive improvement compared to when he’d just started. If he got lucky, the silk might even survive that long without degrading.

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However, that still wasn’t enough. Spinning the silk wouldn’t be the end – he’d also have to weave it into an enchanted fabric and shape it into something he could wear. That was bound to be a time-consuming process in and of itself, as well as one that he hadn’t had the chance to practice as much.

‘I suppose I have enough silk to do some test runs now…’

Just as he was trying to decide whether to keep spinning or to switch to runecrafting, a grey wisp slammed into his body, sinking into a hole in his soul located on his right shoulder. The collision itself only rattled him for a moment, but the influx of memories was more annoying to deal with.

He sighed.

‘Time for a break.’

Now that Duwa and Elaine’s clones had returned from their long assignments, Percy had a total of three wisps on constant rotation. In theory, having so many clones actively searching for opportunities was a good thing, but it did mean he had to deal with multiple interruptions per day.

Percy had grown a lot better at handling the clones – even when they arrived at an inconvenient time, such as while he was working on something mentally intensive, or during a dangerous fight. If he wanted, he could ignore the clone entirely and keep spinning his silk.

But he’d have to create a new clone sooner or later, so there was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Summoning a broken piece of his scythe’s shaft from his spatial seal, he wrapped the silk tightly around it before storing it away. He could try to weave some enchantments with it at some point. Next, he spent a minute to fill up another wisp with phantom mana, before using his bloodline ability to sever the bloated orb from his soul and watching it shoot away into the unknown.

Finally, he emptied two vials of Aurora Dew directly into his stomach, using his Whirlpool of Four Streams technique to cleanse his cores. Strictly speaking, Percy didn’t have to use the modified version of the technique anymore. Now that he could passively fuse his affinities and circulate the phantom mana directly through both cores, two streams would suffice. By turning them corporeal, he could have them churn the contents of his stomach, mixing with the elixirs. Then, he could turn one of them ethereal and pull each to a different core.

But there wasn’t any point.

Percy had already grown extremely familiar with the art after using it thrice a day for nearly two decades. It was an integral part of his routine – effortless and lossless – and he didn’t see a reason to go through the hassle of changing his habits.

Other than clone creation and core cleansing, Percy had cut out all the other distractions from his schedule, so that he could focus exclusively – or as close to that as he could get – on the silk.

He’d even stopped brewing.

Percy wasn’t in a rush to convert the rest of his stash, because he’d already prepared enough Aurora Dew for the next seven years. Even if he excluded the portion he was planning to give Sol, he and Micky would be okay for a long time. Besides, brewing would be wasteful right now – with so many upgrades on the horizon.

In the process of replacing his armour, Percy would inevitably improve greatly at runecrafting, which should allow him to upgrade his cauldron too. A bigger and finer cauldron would not only let him brew even more elixirs at once, but also raise his yield again.

On top of that, there was the compression principle that he had yet to register. He still wasn’t sure that the strange plant he’d brought from Gallimus contained gravity mana, but he did know that Nesha and the clone had already bought a bunch of other ingredients for him. Besides making his potions and tattoos useable again, the new entry would hopefully boost his yield even more.

Everything considered, holding onto the elixirs was the smart choice for now. Percy would get more value out of his stash if he played his cards right, and he wouldn’t even have to waste as much time and effort to convert it.

‘All in due time… For now, the priority is the spectral trait. Micky, can you stop on that island?’

They’d waited long enough to be relatively sure that they were alone in the region. Even if they got attacked while he was vulnerable, the crow should be able to grab him and fly away. The safest option might have been to attract the fiend while sitting on his familiar’s back, but Percy didn’t think that would work. Saturating his surroundings with mana to lure the creatures over was a big part of the operation. Obviously, he wouldn’t be able to do that while moving.

Following his instructions, the bird descended upon the “island”. It really was just a rocky protrusion sticking out of the water, its sharp tip piercing through the surface of the ocean like a colossal caveman’s spear. Dropping Percy off on a somewhat flat spot by the boulder’s side, Micky took off, patrolling their surroundings for potential threats.

Pushing his boosting art to its limits, Percy commenced the familiar procedure for what he hoped would be the last time. Inflicting a series of small incisions on his soul, he poured the mana out of his injuries, lacing it with thoughts of fear, injury and death.

Internally, he was a lot more excited than he showed, however.

‘Fingers crossed for a good one…’

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep