Kaneko cradled a heavy tome too big for her frame; an old, timeworn breath seemed to seep from it, yet that breath was shackled tight by Formations carved on the cover.
She stared at the book, lost and hollow-eyed; Night Frost called her name again and again, but no answer came, like the pages had hooked her soul and reeled it in.
A dozen Formations, large and small, lay etched on the cover, delicate as frost filigree; they echoed the Key’s patterns, and Night Frost felt in her bones this book tied back to her father.
Unlike the Key, several Formations here broke the usual order, clashing against the rest like thorns jammed into woven silk, a discord that pricked at the eye.
Looking close, two big Formations sat atop and blanketed the chain-Formation beneath, choking its current and dulling its bite; their Array Patterns were fresh-cut, gleaming new against weathered lines, new enough to make Night Frost wary.
Yet the carving carried a familiar hand; in those patterns lived her father’s shadow, a stroke like wind over stone.
Those two Formations were humming, tasting the faint pressure sewn around Kaneko and the Mana bleeding from her skin; once her well ran dry, a third Formation would snap shut like a trap.
The Old Woman had said the book was taken from an official Magic Maiden; in District Twenty One, officials walk the mind’s path with high skill, so a mental Formation fit, and Kaneko, rich in Mana but bare of defense, got snared like a lamb in a net.
The cover’s Formations weren’t gentle; if Night Frost took the hit, she’d be in for a bitter brew, a night steeped in misfortune.
The problem stood like a forked mountain road: break the book’s Formations to free Kaneko, or cut Kaneko loose directly—neither path was smooth, both strewn with stones.
Her Spirit couldn’t step outside and slip into another’s mind; direct release was a closed gate, and the mental Formation’s master stood higher than her craft, a tower above a courtyard.
She could try a brute break; but that would scar the mind inside—one wrong tug, and thoughts might shatter like porcelain dropped on slate.
She’d shed the labels of novice and apprentice, yet most Formations were still misted peaks to her; few designs survived the years, and this one she had never climbed.
To tease out threads, you need the loom’s principle first; the mental kind was a field she’d scarcely trod, yet it seemed she had to try, even with hands that trembled.
She pulled a stool over, latched the door, and drew the small carving knife; index finger to edge, she eased apart the Mana at the Formation’s rim, hoping to glimpse the bones beneath.
Her first cut nicked another Formation; one array tripped another, and the whole book lit like tinder in a gust—Night Frost flung out an array plate, thickened her Mana, and raised a wall against the surging heat.
A long breath steadied her—she’d almost brewed a disaster; the topmost Formation ran without bleeding Mana, so her little knife slipped through it and bit the chain-Formation below, triggering one link that tugged four or five more.
Mana geysered from the chain-Formation, nearby arrays fanned the spark, and heavy power bloomed in a blast; if a regular person had stood there, Kaneko, the bystander, and the landlady’s home would have gone like straw in a storm.
She winced for the tier-two nested defense Formation she’d just burned; when Kaneko woke, she’d grill her properly—who else would repay a lost tier-two Formation?
Mana hadn’t helped; so this wasn’t a traditional Mana-built Formation—likely mental—and her use of Spirit was fledgling, trying to focus it on an object felt like pinching fog.
First, her Spirit had to reach outward release; second, her control had to be firm; third, it had to hold till the break was done. She had the first; the next two were mountains above clouds.
So she tried; she lit her Spirit with a Crimson Gold Flame, turned her gaze inward, and saw her spirit-body clear as a lantern, a path she knew well—but this time the spirit-body had to move outward, like a river seeking the sea.
The body is a cage for Spirit and a shelter too; no matter how Night Frost hurled herself against that heavy wall, the door stayed shut, a sealed stone dam holding her Spirit in place.
Frustration rose first; she let her spirit-body settle back and glanced at Kaneko, helpless—she couldn’t just shake her awake, could she?
It felt like the only card left, a blunt hammer aimed at delicate glass.
The air’s pressure thickened like storm humidity, and Kaneko’s leaking Mana thinned; another Formation kept drinking it, turning it into fuel for the machine.
Night Frost aimed to break that drinking array first; even if Kaneko suffered, she had a razor that could gather Mana, a tool she used often and understood—she swept her hand, and the collected power scattered like blown ash.
She raised another identical Formation and netted the Mana back, keeping outsiders from sensing it; Kaneko didn’t know how to wield Mana, but she had it in frightening heaps, rivaling Cantata Two.
One problem down; next, why was Kaneko unconsciously venting Mana—what Formation was pulling that thread?
She searched for a good while and found no extra Formation acting on Kaneko; that left two roads—either the mental Formation had multiple functions, or the culprit hid within the chain-Formation.
Night Frost didn’t recognize most of the chain’s nodes; so she snapped photos for Blade, to pass to her bargain master, though she had no clue how bad his injuries were.
Blade replied fast; her bargain master lay in bed but wasn’t in dire straits—he was vigorous enough about eating jiaozi dipped in vinegar.
Blade sent the photos along; the master thumped his chest and said half a day was enough, confidence rising like smoke.
Half a day. Night Frost checked her phone; afternoon light already slanted, half a day meant sunset, and Zhou Jiaxin needed two to three hours to reach the office—she could make it.
For a few hours, she reviewed Zhou Jiaxin’s recordings, until Blade forwarded her master’s voice, each syllable dropping like pebbles in a pond.
“This Formation is one your father and I largely devised. It links the four elements—air, water, earth, fire—and draws outside Mana to guard against hands with bad intent.”
“But the one you sent was tampered with. The Mana-drawing Formation holds a nested micro-Formation, cleverly merged, that siphons the holder’s Mana.”
“It’s clumsy alone, but paired with the newest, outer mental Formation, it binds the holder’s movements. Then that nested siphon fills the chain-Formation with fuel.”
“Once charged, the chain-Formation starts and can blast apart a holder low on Mana, like thunderhammer on dry wood.”
Night Frost checked as he said; at the heart of one node in the chain-Formation, she found a near-new Formation, fine as hair, blended seamlessly into the ring.
“Clever, sure, but it broke the original harmony of air, water, earth, fire. The design was meant to counter a Four-Element Magic Maiden’s Magic Cannon. Split the elements, and Night Frost should handle it easy.”
“Luckily, this Formation charges painfully slow; left alone, it would sip the air for years. Even with heavy Mana added, it’s not a cup that fills quick.”
“You just need to break the innermost Formation first. From center to edge it’s laced with countless Mana threads—cut the main line, and the engine stops.”
She obeyed; her sharp knife kissed the tiny Formation, and with a slant of the blade, she sliced through most of its filaments, threads parting like spider silk in rain.
The suction deepened, pulling like a whirlpool; she hadn’t found the main line, and the misstep made the Formation nastier, teeth bared.
The Formation was tiny; such fine work taxed her fingers, but compared to spirit-out-of-body or cracking a mental Formation, this was child’s play on a quiet road.
After ten-odd minutes, she severed it clean; the voice message rolled on like a stream.
“Next Formation: I’ll talk, you follow. It goes like this…”
Night Frost listened, attention pooled like still water cupping the moon.
“Forget all that—if you can’t handle the Formation, handle the person. If you can’t handle the person, take the book and run!”
She got it—either crack the Formation, or cut the Spirit Threads binding Kaneko, which called for Spirit outflow she couldn’t do; but her bargain master said she could simply remove the Formation.
“That simple?”
Her finger tapped the next message before thought, a leaf flicked by wind.
“I know you don’t buy it, but this Formation isn’t that arcane; its Array Pattern’s like the three low-level ones you learned, no bite to the mind. The catch is the chain-Formation—that’s the killing move. Touch it, and the four Formations light up together, like a lantern row.”
“And lucky for you, I know how to crack a chain-Formation.”
“You just need to cut one more circle along the mental Formation, like tracing the edge of a moon.”
