Sitting beneath the glow of the crystal lamp, Alphonse stared intently at the [Tier 1 - Cleanse] scroll resting on his desk. For Alphonse, understanding how to manufacture an item was vastly more crucial to building an empire than merely learning how to destroy something.
He recalled his golden days in Orion Online.
The twenty-three core members of the Pioneer Guild did not sit at the absolute apex of the hierarchy simply because they were a collection of Unique Job holders with enough destructive power to level a kingdom. Their formation was vastly more structured and lethal. The guild's combat strength was heavily supported by players fully dedicated to various Crafting roles.
Pioneer housed Alchemists who concocted high-tier Elixirs, Blacksmiths who forged rare materials into Legendary-tier equipment, and even a Scroll Master capable of mass-producing magic scrolls.
Without that logistical foundation and independent production chain, no matter how formidable a combat unit was, they would inevitably crumble on the battlefield from resource exhaustion.
Now, standing in a real world devoid of an interface system that facilitated instant crafting, Alphonse realized something. To rebuild his faction from absolute zero, he had to master the production systems of this world.
However, to dismantle that secret, he had to confront his terror once more.
Alphonse drew a slow breath. A drop of cold sweat began to trickle from his temple.
The memory of the gigantic Cosmic Eye entity staring at him in the empty void of space—siphoning his Mana dry without resistance—was still deeply scorched into his memory. His hands, resting on his knees, clenched slightly into fists.
He had to fight that trauma if he wanted his party to have any chance against the other Players.
With his eyes closed and iron resolve, he invoked his ultimate ability with a barely audible whisper.
"[Tier EX - Akashic Terminal]."
His consciousness was instantly pulled from the inn room, soaring past physical boundaries.
When he opened his eyes again, the air felt hollow and weightless. He was standing in the center of the Akashic space once more, upon a floor that glowed like a mirrored galaxy. He quickly looked up, his heart pounding rapidly.
There was nothing up there but the silent emptiness of space.
The tension in Alphonse's body immediately unwound. His shoulders dropped slowly as he realized the giant eye entity was not staring at him this time. He was safe.
It seemed that projecting power into this Akashic space was not something that could be easily intercepted.
Directing his gaze to the glowing Cosmic Mandala hovering before him, Alphonse visualized the magic parchment he had in his room.
"Deconstruct its assembly structure," Alphonse commanded specifically. "Show me the manufacturing process of this Magic Scroll in my possession."
The Cosmic Mandala responded to his command. The glowing rings spun rapidly, refracting light and weaving it into a sequence of highly realistic visual projections before him.
Alphonse saw the projection of a wild, jagged-horned rabbit monster. The creature was skinned. Its fur was removed, and the reddish hide was submerged into a wooden vat filled with a tanning solution that emitted a magical glow.
The chemical process transformed the wet hide into a tough sheet of parchment capable of withstanding a tier-one magical current without tearing.
The visualization transitioned seamlessly.
Fresh blood from the horned rabbit was collected in a clay bowl. Then, fragments of a low-tier Mana Stone were crushed into an incredibly fine powder and mixed into the blood.
That concoction, heated over a small flame, created a thick, reddish magical ink capable of conducting a stable flow of Mana.
The Mandala now displayed the figure of a Scroll Master sitting at a workbench inside a stone room. The mage utilized a glass pen—a sleek, entirely transparent glass body with a highly precise spiral-threaded tip.
The mage dipped the tip of the glass pen into the vial of magical ink. The reddish ink slowly crept upward against gravity, seamlessly filling the spiral grooves of the glass. He then began drawing complex magic circle patterns onto the surface of the leather parchment.
In tandem with every stroke that carved lines and geometric angles, the mage continuously channeled a thread of Mana from within his body. Through that clear glass material, Alphonse could clearly see how the blue energy glow from the mage's hand flowed into the pen's shaft, merging perfectly with the red ink at the spiral tip, before finally being injected slowly onto the paper.
Alphonse narrowed his eyes, observing the tense details. Every single line and curve had to be executed with absolute precision. If the mage's hand trembled even slightly while channeling Mana through the glass pen, the energy flow on the paper would clash. The visualization displayed a failure: a single crooked line caused the parchment to instantly incinerate into ash due to a chaotic burst of energy.
Once the magic circle was drawn flawlessly, the ink pattern emitted a dim blue glow. However, the process was not complete. The crafter did not stop there.
The mage raised a hand over the parchment, then cast an auxiliary spell: [Tier 3 - Magic Inscription].
That tier-three spell served a dual purpose:
First, it sealed the volatile energy flow within the parchment, stabilizing it so the magic scroll could be stored for months without any Mana leakage.
Second, simultaneously, the layer of magic manipulated the visual form of the painstakingly drawn complex pattern. The protective layer magically altered the runic circle into a massive emblem of the Wealden Magic Tower, entirely concealing the original circuit pathways from outside view.
[The magic circle is drawn on magic parchment made from the hide of a horned rabbit monster, using magic ink composed of a mixture of the monster's blood and crushed mana stone powder, and is subsequently sealed by a Scroll Master using the Magic Inscription spell.]
The visualization slowly faded, returning to the calmly spinning rings of the mandala.
Alphonse stroked his chin in the empty void.
He now clearly understood why Caspian Astora had immediately selected the [Tier 3 - Magic Inscription] manual after passing his exam. That sealing spell was not merely a power stabilizer. It was a copyright tool—a monopolistic tactic employed by the mage faction to prevent their magic scrolls from being dissected, replicated, and mass-produced by outsiders or independent adventurers.
Vrischil's analysis in front of the Wealden Magic Tower's showcase had proven to be one hundred percent correct.
Inside the Akashic space, Alphonse was not satisfied with merely being a spectator of a masterpiece. As a King, knowing how an item was manufactured was only half the victory.
The other half was the ability to dismantle that monopoly and make it his own.
He stared straight into the center of the calmly glowing Cosmic Mandala. His ambition burned brightly.
"Follow-up question," Alphonse stated, his voice echoing in the void. "How do I remove the [Tier 3 - Magic Inscription] without destroying the foundational structure of the magic scroll beneath it?"
Responding to the request, the mandala rings instantly spun at blinding speed. The blue and gold glow faded, replaced by a radiant, crystal-clear silver light that dazzled the eyes.
A new visual projection emerged from within the light.
Alphonse saw the projection of a mage raising their hand over a sealed parchment. The mage cast a spell, and from their fingertips flowed energy that operated exactly like an eraser. The energy swept across the surface of the parchment, obliterating the Magic Tower logo and slowly restoring the original layout of the magic circle to the surface without scorching the paper.
A new piece of information, the name of the spell, instantly echoed and imprinted itself into Alphonse's consciousness.
[Tier 4 - Null Script]
The ruler's heart pounded rapidly. He did not waste this golden opportunity. Before the projection disappeared, Alphonse issued his final demand.
"Present the entire magic circle structure of [Tier 4 - Null Script] before me. Now."
The silver mandala exploded into hundreds of light threads hovering in the air. The light formed an incredibly complex geometric pattern. Hundreds of energy flow lines crossed, intersected, and interlocked mathematically, forging the magical formula of a seal eraser.
[Tier 4 - Null Script]
Alphonse's golden eyes absorbed every single detail of the pattern. He nailed every angle, curve, and required Mana density into his memory. He was stealing and assimilating crucial knowledge that would normally take a local mage years to study, memorize, and master.
Satisfied with his harvest, Alphonse severed the connection of his Skill. He opened his eyes, and his consciousness returned to his body sitting in the wooden chair of the inn room.
The moment he returned to reality, a sharp wave of dizziness slammed into his head. He panted, and a wave of weakness spread rapidly from his fingertips to the base of his neck. The intensive and continuous utilization of [Tier EX - Akashic Terminal] had drained a massive portion of his Mana capacity.
Alphonse stared at his slightly trembling palms resting on his lap. Yet, beneath that exhaustion, a faint smile laden with ripe ambition slowly formed on his lips.
Various spells that never existed in the game... Alphonse muttered in his mind. His eyes glinted as he stared into the crystal lamp's light. If I can master the native magic of this world, I am truly going to take off.
The dizziness did not stop him. Alphonse leaned forward, staring at the [Tier 1 - Cleanse] scroll lying on the desk. It was time to put theory into practice.
Alphonse closed his eyes, visualizing the complex pattern of the [Tier 4 - Null Script] he had just carved into his mind. He extended his right hand directly over the Magic Tower logo on the parchment.
Nervousness—an emotion that very rarely afflicted this tactical mastermind—subconsciously crept in. That tension caused the focus of his mental visualization to waver for a fraction of a second. The silver threads of light that had only half-assembled the geometric pattern in the air suddenly vibrated wildly, lost their stability, and collided with one another.
BAM!
A burst of energy detonated directly above the desk. An invisible shockwave slammed into Alphonse's chest, delivering a force that threw him backward until his back crashed harshly against the wooden chair rest. His black hair was blown into a mess, while the parchment and the crystal lamp in front of him shifted violently. His first attempt had shattered spectacularly.
Alphonse gripped the armrests tightly to stabilize himself, feeling a slight throb of pain in his chest from the recoil of the wild energy. Without uttering a curse, he slowly corrected his sitting posture. His hand moved calmly, shifting the crystal lamp so the lighting was even once more, and gently smoothed down the edge of the parchment that had been slightly folded by the shockwave.
Alphonse closed his eyes and took a long breath. One... two... three... four... five. He exhaled slowly, calming his heart rate until it returned to a stable, freezing baseline. Ego and nervousness had to be banished from the experimentation table.
On the second attempt, Alphonse opened his eyes. His gaze was as sharp as an eagle's. He extended his hand and focused his Mana into a precise mental visualization.
The air directly above the parchment suddenly vibrated. Through pure clarity of will, hundreds of clear silver threads of light arranged themselves instantly, carving the complex geometric pattern of [Tier 4 - Null Script] hovering flawlessly in the air without a single defect.
The magic circle rotated slowly, radiating a stable pulse of power. With a flick of his finger to give the spell one final push,
Ssssshhhh...
A soft hissing sound was heard, like hot iron plunged into cold water.
The result was displayed clearly before his eyes. The Wealden Magic Tower logo, which had previously been printed boldly to conceal the truth beneath it, slowly faded. The protective ink washed away as if erased by water, evaporating into the air.
In a mere matter of seconds, the copyright seal vanished entirely, clearly revealing the original [Tier 1 - Cleanse] magic circle structure that had been neatly hidden beneath the parchment. He had successfully bypassed the mage faction's monopoly.
Seeing the success of his experiment, the absolute composure that usually served as Alphonse's impenetrable fortress finally crumbled for a moment.
He realized a soul-shaking truth. He had just unlocked the greatest potential of a Player stranded in this world.
Alphonse stood up from his chair so abruptly that the wooden legs scraped loudly backward. His hands clenched tightly into fists, punching the air beside him.
"It worked!" Alphonse cheered loudly, letting out an uninhibited laugh.
It was an entirely honest release of joy over a technical success, momentarily shattering his dignified, cold, and calculated facade that he always maintained in front of his members.
BANG!
A sudden interruption obliterated his moment of victory. The inn room door was kicked violently open.
Vrischil darted inside first. The Elf's emerald eyes narrowed sharply, her hand already primed to summon protective crystal fragments, assuming their Guild Master was under attack by an intruder. Behind her, Arcus followed suit with his bow already half-drawn.
However, instead of finding a bloodbath, the two Pioneer members froze in the doorway.
Arcus slowly lowered his bow. He stared at the bizarre scene before him, his mouth slightly agape.
He saw Alphonse—the leader who unfailingly utilized cold logic and ruthless calculations—standing with a beaming, flushed face, panting slightly from sheer excitement, doing absolutely nothing but standing in front of a piece of cleaning paper on the desk.
"Alphonse..." Arcus said in sheer disbelief, his eyes blinking slowly. "Have you finally lost your mind?"