Secret of Change

"Knock, knock, knock!"

The three long and two short knocks echoed through the empty corridor. After waiting patiently in the cold draft of the hallway and confirming that no unfamiliar footsteps were approaching the house, Horn took a deep breath, pressed his finger against the keyhole, and sent a call into the depths of his consciousness.

[--Fire]

And so, the flame arrived as promised.

As always.

"Click."

Accompanied by the crisp sound of the lock cylinder springing open, Horn, with the Six Letters of Instruction tucked into his waistband, first pulled the door open a narrow crack. Only after scanning the room did he slowly step into the small apartment he had been away from for so long.

"The Prevention and Suppression Bureau handled the scene quite thoroughly."

Recalling the newly repaired door upstairs, Horn sighed. Although he didn't know how the landlord felt about losing a tenant and gaining a haunted room, the issue of renting was already far behind Horn, who had received permission to stay at the Alchemy Academy.

Well, this is Birmingham; if I don't rent the place, plenty of others will. I suppose the tenants in the Lower District wouldn't care about such trivial matters.

Life will always find a way.

With his mind clear, Horn brushed a thin layer of dust off the desk and flicked the switch of the incandescent lamp. He took a deep breath amidst the unstable buzzing sound and, by the flickering light, opened the cover of the Six Letters of Instruction, staring at the preface on the title page.

On the [Secret Atmosphere] card, the remaining silver-white candle began to burn. In a sudden surge of inspiration, Horn understood.

[To study the Formless Secret Arts is enough to exhaust ten lifetimes.]

Even through the orderly ink, the emotion contained in this sentence was shocking. The next moment, pitch-black phantom flames climbed upward, touching line after line of text as he turned the pages, growing more vigorous as Horn delved deeper into his reading.

[Fire consumes knowledge... but fire also provides light. Understanding is rooted in this paradox.]

[--Gaze into the light!]

On the light screen, the card representing the [Six Letters of Instruction] was placed into the [Study] slot, and the progress bar slowly advanced as his spirituality burned.

--Time passed.

Lines of text popped up, gradually stabilizing from twisted, knotted lines into clear characters under the scorching of the flames. Knowledge that truly possessed power was smelted out like gold from ore, casting the prototype of another card.

[Corselli's tone is urgent--as if he doubts he has much time left.]

[To rise higher, change is inevitable. And danger follows like a shadow. Casting aside mortal nature is an impulse, and perhaps a pleasure. But what I have always doubted is...]

[I have never visited Broceliande, and I have always felt fear in my heart: fear of the endless night in that cedar forest, fear of suddenly encountering the Blood-Red Cup, and fear of the sound of moths flapping their wings...]

["Even the sun can be divided, though it requires the Sun-Forging Furnace to do the work."]

"Click."

As the last page of the book was closed, Horn finally detached from a state similar to "flow," feeling the existence of his body once again... and the intense sense of weakness that surged up.

His previously stable spirituality had plummeted by nearly two-thirds during the reading, and his surging, scorching blood had also begun to calm. As a [Blood Scorcher], Horn actually shivered in the cold breeze, a rare occurrence.

"...Is this book that mentally draining?"

He closed the open window in front of him and pulled up his collar. With no heart to write any study notes, Horn closed his eyes, sank his consciousness into the desktop, and got straight to the point.

Let me see!

The [Six Letters of Instruction], which originally had a card face of messy manuscripts, had disappeared, replaced by two purer orange-red cards.

One depicted an upward marble staircase with a copper handrail, its polished spherical surface indicating its familiarity with a palm.

[Memory: Foresight]

[Foresight: Some things can be understood before they happen.]

[Aspect--Memory: What is remembered may be what is understood. [Specific memories will enhance your state of mind, helping to complete recipes or learn skills]]

[Aspect--Ember 2: ALITUR PROPRIIS IGNIS CINERIBUS (Fire is nourished by its own ashes)]

[Aspect--Candle 1: Candlelight illuminates and dispels darkness, candlelight guides the way forward, candlelight... casts shadows?]

Like the previous series of temporary influence cards, this [Foresight] was slowly fading as time passed, but at least in the short term, Horn didn't have to worry about running out of it.

What's more, [Foresight] could only be considered a byproduct; the real harvest was occult knowledge, pure and simple.

That is to say, Secret Lore!

The text, still carrying heat, rose up, expounding the essence of this Secret Lore.

[Secret Lore: Secret of Change]

[Secret of Change: On the five continents, blacksmiths whisper the same words to steel. It is well known that murderers also whisper these words. And apprentices, naturally, do the same. Reciting them with the proper language in a ritual can trigger ruthless change.]

[Aspect--Secret Lore: Knowledge of the Formless Secret Arts. I can use it to construct spells, hold rituals, open the path to the Dream Realm, or seek more... [Secret Lore can be upgraded by studying it with appropriate Secret Lore.]]

[Aspect--Ember: ALITUR PROPRIIS IGNIS CINERIBUS (Fire is nourished by its own ashes)]

[Aspect--Mutable: It has the potential to transform into another existence.]

[Aspect--Knowledge Required: This is a puzzle with missing pieces. Perhaps I will find the missing fragments in a remote corner of the sea of learning.]

Pressing his lips together to avoid laughing out loud, hit by a sudden sense of absurdity, the expression on Horn's face was truly difficult to maintain.

Julian Corselli had spent a large portion of the book, even citing the examples of two great beings whose names were not to be spoken, to warn his apprentice to stay away from these dangerous and impractical Formless Secret Arts; his intentions were truly painstaking.

However, whether out of malice or simply a complete misunderstanding of his mentor's intent, his student had compiled and revised this desperate "will" until it was unrecognizable, even allowing Horn to discern Secret Lore regarding the Ember aspect of destruction and transformation.

Perhaps this interpretation was biased, but looking at the faintly glowing Foresight on the desk, Horn still had a premonition that he had guessed correctly.

How strange.

Feeling the new knowledge in his mind, Horn looked out at the nearly pitch-black night scene beyond the window, rubbed his aching temples, and let out a satisfied breath.

--"Next, your task is to read this book, understand its profound meaning, and compile it into a piece of Secret Lore."

"That should be it, right? Why is it so late? I'm so tired, time to sleep, time to sleep."

Dragging his listless feet, Horn had no desire to tidy up the room. After forcing himself to complete his basic hygiene, he dove into the bed he hadn't touched in so long that it felt somewhat unfamiliar.

"Buzz."

The light from the old incandescent bulb flickered, brightening for an instant before dimming. Amidst a fatigue he hadn't felt since his promotion, Horn drifted into a dream.

He fell into a deep sleep.

On the desk, a gray card quietly vanished into the action slot of Dream Entry. Dark patterns seeped into it, writhing like living things, forming a line of barely legible text.

[Sleep usually rests the body and calms the mind; however, there are always exceptions—yes, there are always exceptions.]