Infinite Forge: I Can Devour Everything

Handing the Pale Mask to Joron felt like tossing a grenade and waiting for the boom, and Edwyn was itching to see how big it'd be.

He'd poured four days of sweat, mana, and sheer bravado into that mask, and it had come together smoother than a perfectly cast spell. Too smooth, maybe. As he stood there, arms crossed, his gloved fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his biceps, a flicker of doubt crept in.

Would a real Mage, a guy like Joron, really assign something that felt so… easy? Edwyn's grin faltered for a split second, but he shoved the thought aside. "Nah, I nailed it," he muttered under his breath. "Time to bask in the glory."

Minutes dragged by, each one stretching like a bad duel. Joron, his gray hair a wild halo under the chamber's enchanted lanterns, turned the mask over in his hands, his weathered face unreadable. The silence was torture, even for someone as unflappable as Edwyn. He shifted his weight, his new Gale Boots scuffing softly against the stone floor, and shot a glance at Agnes and Chayle. Agnes stood ramrod straight, her black outfit hugging her curves, her phoenix eyes locked on Joron. Chayle, slouched nearby with his flask dangling from one hand, looked half-bored, half-curious. Edwyn caught his eye and winked.

"What's the hold-up, teach? Afraid it's too awesome to handle?"

Joron ignored him, his fingers tracing the mask's surface. The white bone shimmered with a gentle luster, catching the lantern light like polished ivory. Inside, faint gray lines spread like the branches of a ghostly tree, the mana conduction circuit Edwyn had woven with black mercury and nerves of steel. The runes etched on the back, though slightly rough around the edges, were precise, their lines bold and functional. Joron's brow furrowed, then relaxed.

"Not bad," he said at last, his voice gruff but tinged with approval. "For an Elementary Apprentice, this is damn impressive. If the circuit holds, it's a proper Arcane Artifact."

Edwyn's grin returned, wider than ever. "Told ya. I don't do half-measures." He leaned forward, hands on his hips. "So, what's the score? Am I a genius or the genius?"

Joron didn't bite, his focus still on the mask. He extended a finger, and a stream of mana flowed from it, a shimmering thread that snaked through the conduction circuit. The runes lit up one by one, glowing violet as the mask hummed with power. Then, without warning, a wave of invisible energy erupted, a psychic shockwave that rippled through the room, sharp and disorienting.

"Hm?" Agnes's eyes widened, her hand instinctively twitching toward her spellbook.

"What the hell was that?" Chayle muttered, straightening up, his flask nearly slipping from his grip.

Edwyn's smirk froze. That wasn't supposed to happen. He'd crafted a Pale Mask, not some rogue spellbomb. His eyes flicked to Joron, who looked even more baffled, his mana still channeling into the mask. The old Mage's face darkened, his gaze snapping to Agnes and Chayle like a storm cloud about to burst.

"You two," Joron growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Been slacking off, have you? Knew I gave the wrong blueprint and didn't bother to tell me to fix it?"

Agnes blinked, her composure cracking. "Teacher, what are you talking about? I've been neck-deep in experiments, haven't had a free second to meddle in anyone's test."

Chayle raised his hands, looking equally lost. "Yeah, same here. I mean, I've been hitting the firewhiskey on the fifty-fifth floor, sure, but I haven't skipped my work. What's this about a wrong blueprint?"

Joron snorted, holding up the mask. "A fine-grade Pale Mask. Took some effort, didn't it? Don't play dumb with me."

"Fine-grade?" Agnes echoed, her voice sharp with disbelief.

"Pale Mask?" Chayle's jaw dropped, his flask forgotten. "Wait, hold up. Isn't Edwyn supposed to be making a Concealment Mask? That's the standard test for Elementaries."

Edwyn's grin twitched, a mix of pride and unease bubbling up. Fine-grade? He'd known the mask was solid, but that solid? And what was this about a wrong blueprint? He leaned back, whistling low. "Well, damn. Sounds like I accidentally kicked some serious ass."

Agnes and Chayle exchanged a glance, their minds racing. Neither was slow on the uptake, and the pieces clicked into place. Joron had screwed up, handing Edwyn a blueprint meant for Intermediate Apprentices. And somehow, the cocky newbie had not only pulled it off but made a fine-grade artifact. Agnes's eyes narrowed, studying Edwyn like he was a puzzle she couldn't solve. Chayle just shook his head, muttering,

"Kid's either a freak or a cheat."

Agnes stepped forward, her voice firm. "Teacher, I swear on my soul sea, I had nothing to do with this Arcane Artifact. Not a single rune, not a drop of ink."

Chayle nodded, his tone unusually serious. "Same deal. Swear on my soul sea, I didn't touch it. Hell, you know my skills, I'm decent with standard gear, but a fine-grade Pale Mask? I'd sooner grow wings than pull that off."

Joron's face darkened further, his micro-eyes, those eerie, shifting pupils that marked a high-level Mage, locking onto Edwyn.

"You," he said, his voice a blade. "Did you make this yourself?"

Edwyn swallowed, but his grin didn't falter. He straightened, tossing his hair back with a flourish. "Yup. All me, teach. No backup, no shortcuts, just pure Edwyn awesomeness."

"Swear it," Joron said, his gaze unyielding. "On your soul sea. But know this: break that oath, and your soul gets tainted. Your Spiritforce regresses, your path to Arch-Mage, gets blocked. Maybe worse."

The warning hung heavy, a chance for Edwyn to back out if he'd cheated. But Edwyn had nothing to hide. He'd crafted that mask with his own hands, his own mana, his own reckless genius. He met Joron's stare, his grin sharpening into something defiant. "I swear on my soul sea: I made that Arcane Artifact myself, start to finish, no help from anyone. Cross my heart and hope to fry."

A faint ripple pulsed from his soul, an invisible wave that vanished into the ether. Edwyn held his breath, but nothing changed, no pain, no mana drain, no spiritual backlash. His oath was true, his soul untarnished.

"See? Told ya I'm the real deal."

Joron's eyes widened, disbelief etched into every line of his face. He handed the mask to Agnes, who channeled her own mana into it, her expression shifting from skepticism to shock. She passed it to Chayle, who tested it and nearly dropped it, his face a mix of awe and envy.

"No way," he muttered. "This is legit."

"How is this possible?" Agnes said, her voice barely above a whisper. "A fine-grade Pale Mask… from an Elementary Apprentice?"

Joron exhaled, sinking into his chair as if the weight of Edwyn's achievement had knocked the wind out of him. "Edwyn, do you even grasp what you've done?" His voice was thick with awe. "The Pale Mask is a test for Intermediate Apprentices. I couldn't have made a fine-grade one at your level. Neither could my mentor. Hell, most Arch-Mages never pull this off."

Edwyn shrugged. "What can I say? I'm just that good. Give me a challenge, and I'll knock it outta the park."

Chayle handed the mask back to Joron, his expression conflicted. "Kid's a monster," he muttered, half to himself. Agnes nodded, her own prodigy status suddenly feeling less shiny.

Joron inspected the mask again, his fingers lingering on the bone. Then he froze, his eyes narrowing.

"The materials… they're garbage." He looked at Edwyn, his voice low and urgent. "The skull of a black-striped water python is porous. Black mercury in a conduction circuit usually branches out in bone like that, tanking mana efficiency. Only mutated python skulls work for fine-grade Pale Masks. But this…" He turned the mask over, studying it like a relic. "This is from a juvenile. Subpar at best. How did you do it?"

Edwyn scratched the back of his head, his grin turning sheepish but still smug. "I'm not trying to play coy, teach, but I didn't do anything fancy. The mask felt brittle after I finished, like it'd snap if I sneezed on it. So I slapped an enchantment array on it to toughen it up. That's it."

Joron's eyes widened. "An enchantment array?" He leaned forward, his voice intense. "Explain."

Edwyn shrugged again, leaning against the bookshelf with casual ease. "Just a basic alchemy array to boost the material's strength. Figured it'd keep the mask from crumbling in a duel. Didn't think it'd do much else."

Joron's mind raced, and after a moment, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"You… you stumbled into genius." He pulled a crystal ball from a drawer, its surface swirling with arcane light, and handed it to Edwyn. "Equivalent exchange, boy. This is the recipe for the Focus Oil, calms the mind, steadies the hand during casting. Popular with apprentices, sells like hotcakes in the commercial district."

Agnes nodded, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "It's a lifesaver in duels. Keeps you cool when the heat's on."

Edwyn twirled the crystal ball in his hand, his grin widening. "Sweet deal. I'll take it." He pocketed it, then met Joron's gaze. "So, what's next? Got another impossible test for me to crush?"

Joron's expression turned serious, his micro-eyes glinting. "Apprentice Edwyn, will you accept becoming my personal student?"

Edwyn froze, his grin faltering for the first time. A personal student of Joron, one of the tower's top Arch-Mages? That was a ticket to the big leagues, a chance to dive into secrets most apprentices only dreamed of. He recovered quickly, "Well, damn, teach. Didn't see that coming. But yeah, I'm in. Let's make some magic, and maybe break a few rules while we're at it."

Joron's lips twitched, a rare hint of amusement breaking through his stern facade. "You'll fit in just fine," he said, his voice laced with both pride and a touch of dread.