I loaded the Mysticism panel.

After class, Richard went to room 314.

She knocked and went in. Only her aunt was inside; Clara and Sophia's tables were empty.

Sofia had a coat draped over the back of her chair; she'd forgotten to take it with her.

Isabella, sitting behind the desk, didn't even look up: "Close the door."

Richard closed the door and sat down in the chair opposite him.

Isabella took out the oil paper package from the side and unwrapped it on the table.

The clay figurine lay in oiled paper, its cracked face facing the ceiling, missing its nose.

"I showed this to a few people in the department."

Isabella pushed the red pen on the table aside: "Professor Mortimer also glanced at it."

Richard didn't speak, but listened quietly.

The results of the assessment differed from his prediction.

"The clay figurines themselves originated in Crete and date back to the late Mycenaean period."

Isabella explained.

"It was originally sealed with a 'language of the maze,' which could help the holder find the exit if they got lost in the maze or the area behind the veil."

"The Language of the Labyrinth..."

Li realized that this automatic navigation function was quite powerful.

The first lesson Captain Field and Sarah taught these newcomers was that they shouldn't wander into the vulnerable spots behind the curtain, or they would lose their way and never be able to find their way back.

"Later, I don't know how, I ended up in the Ash Zone."

Isabella flipped the clay figurine over.

"The labyrinthine passage within the seal has broken free and escaped."

My aunt continued, "The shell is cracked, and it's hollow inside."

Richard understood.

"So when I first got it, I couldn't read anything useful from it."

Isabella lightly scratched the bottom of the clay figurine with her fingernail.

"Moreover, this thing has been polluted time and time again, and its original function of helping people find their way has been reversed, turning it into something that makes people get lost."

"However, the Imperial Capital University collection only contains three fragments of the labyrinth tradition, and the background pattern on this ceramic figurine is relatively complete."

Richard nodded.

"I'll make a rubbing of the background pattern and keep it; I'll give the original to the department."

"With more physical references to the Cretan labyrinth in the collection, I'll have more credibility within the department."

Isabella glanced at her nephew, her cold face expressionless.

"It's your decision."

No matter what she said, Richard could tell that his aunt was very satisfied.

Isabella rewrapped the clay figurine and pushed it to the corner of the table.

Then she pulled out a document covered with sealing wax from under the stack of files.

She laid the document flat on the table.

"Clara's field assignment has also been issued."

Richard placed his hands on his knees.

"I'm leaving early next month for the north."

"The Gaelic Heights?"

My aunt shook her head. "Further north."

"The Orkney Islands"

Richard brought up the map in his mind.

The Orkney Islands, further north from the northernmost point of Albion.

It's those scattered little islands hanging at the very top, where the cold wind can shred a person into a sheet of paper.

"Where exactly?"

"Scapa Bay." Isabella tapped her index finger on the table.

"The anchorage of the Imperial Navy's Grand Fleet."

"Dozens of capital ships, battlecruisers, and destroyers were all huddled in that bay."

Dozens of massive steel ships remain anchored in the same body of water year-round.

Tens of thousands of sailors ate, slept, drilled, felt anxious and fearful day and night on the ship.

The fleet hardly ever left port throughout the year; newspapers called this the "presence fleet" strategy, using its very existence to deter the enemy.

But the coal smoke, rust, human body heat, and mental stress emitted by those giant ships festered beneath the same bay day after day.

The Orkney Islands are dotted with Neolithic standing stone circles and burial sites.

The Stanis Stone, the Mayshowa Tomb, the Broadgay Stone Ring... all are sacrificial sites from thousands of years ago.

Those things have been buried underground long enough, and now they're weighed down by the fear of dozens of warships and tens of thousands of living people...

"What is Senior Clara doing over there?"

"Maintaining the underwater seal requires diving down."

My aunt's expression was also not good.

Richard had read about it in a book.

Those inscriptions that cover up the weak points are carved on the seabed rocks, and practitioners have to dive to the bottom of the water with ether accumulators on their backs to fill them in stroke by stroke.

Sunlight is invisible on the seabed, and the etheric field is distorted by the pressure of the seawater, so people can only work in it for a very short time.

There aren't many people in the entire empire who can do this kind of work.

My senior is an outstanding person, and it is precisely because of her excellence that she was given a more challenging job.

The office door opened slightly, and Clara walked in.

She was carrying a paper bag in her right hand, with a small oil stain on the bottom.

"These are for you." She placed the paper bag on the table.

The paper bag contained two small cakes, one lemon-flavored and one caramel-flavored.

Richard's love for sour foods was noticed by everyone around him, including his sister, Grey, and two senior female students.

He suddenly realized that he rarely paid attention to what the people around him liked.

"Senior Clara, are you a good swimmer?"

Clara took a cake and handed it to her tutor.

When Isabella took it, her fingers touched the oil stain, and she frowned.

"Don't worry," Clara's voice was no different than usual. "I'm a very good swimmer."

Isabella placed the caramel cake on the corner of the table.

Then he took out the piece of Flagbearer's flag material that Professor Mortimer had cleaned and spread it on the table.

"I asked Clara's distant cousin for you."

Richard's attention turned to him. "He answered?"

"He made a condition." Isabella's expression was subtle.

"He can follow your requirements, but he wants to record the production process and keep it as his own craft archive."

Richard thought about it and realized that the request was quite normal.

My senior's cousin is busy with military supply orders, and the alchemy workshop is packed with customers.

Being able to squeeze out time to take on a job outside the home is already a great honor.

"I agree."

Isabella handed the flag to Clara.

"He'll finish it next month, and then Clara will hand it over to you."

………………

Late at night, Richard finished all the things he needed to do that day.

The breathing technique was completed in three full cycles, and the practice of the silencing technique was also progressing well with the help of the shadow.

Now, when he expels the vacuum, he still has to hold the steel pipe in his hand, but the density of the vacuum he expels is now much higher.

All the daily tasks were completed, and the room was quiet.

He pulled out the gargoyle.

The gargoyle was the first strange object he received from his maternal grandfather.

The design is rugged, the workmanship is not very good, and he has almost drained the ether.

Richard first spread out his spiritual vision.

On the etheric plane, only a very thin layer remained on the gargoyle, almost untouchable.

Gargoyles crouch high up in churches and pavilions, exposed to wind and rain, their faces contorted as they look down.

It was created to scare away unclean things.

The intention of the sculptor, who used a hammer and chisel to carve each stroke, is still present in the texture and crevices of the stone four hundred years later.

Richard mentally went over the name three times, then used etheric transmission to push it up.

"The gatekeeper."

The ether flowed out and fell onto the surface of the gargoyle along the conduction path.

The gargoyle lit up.

The protective aura that had almost completely dissipated thickened again after the name was placed on it.

He grasped the gargoyle and used it as a medium to cast Stone Armor once more.

The coverage area is now wider.

It wasn't just the area that was affected; he tapped the shell on his forearm with his knuckles, and its hardness was completely different from before.

The original armor's hardness was only enough to block attacks from ordinary melee weapons.

With this thickness... Richard estimated in his mind that it should be able to stop small-caliber firearms.

About ten minutes later, the luster on the gargoyle's surface began to dim.

Fifteen minutes later, it completely subsided.

The gargoyle returned to its pre-naming state, and the thin, almost vanishing protective aura shrank back.

Richard wrote the data down in his notebook.

He then tried the pure ether he took out from the spirit body and found that it was more effective than the ordinary ether in the microcirculation.

Comparing the same amount, the pure ether of the spirit form lasted for almost half as long as that of the ordinary ether.

After finishing the first item, he began the second test.

He took the gargoyle back into his hand and this time gave it a new name.

"Sharp teeth".

Richard wanted it to have an additional attack attribute.

The moment the name was pushed up, an extremely thin object bounced back along the conduction path.

The snap on his wrist felt like being pulled by a rubber band, making him jolted.

The gargoyle's surface only lit up for less than three seconds before going out, so its name couldn't even be properly displayed.

This was within Richard's expectations.

The essence of a gargoyle is "defense," so giving it an offensive name doesn't match its nature.

If the name is off-target, the ether will slip and bounce back.

The rebound was very weak because it didn't deviate too far; both defense and offense were within the realm of force.

Richard tried two more names.

"Micro Dust" is a neutral name that makes the gargoyle more lightweight.

It was installed, but its effect was far less than that of the "gatekeeper".

"Reflective Shield" is a defensive counter-attack type.

It was also activated, and its duration was similar to that of the "Gatekeeper," but the increase was less.

The conclusion is clear: the closer the name is to the essence, the greater the increase and the longer it lasts.

The further off-topic the name, the more pronounced the backlash; he was hesitant to try names that were completely opposite.

If you were to give the honest gargoyle that's always been guarding the gate a name like "traitor," the bouncing object would probably snap off his finger.

Richard put the gargoyle back on the bedside table, letting it sit side by side with the Sphinx lamp and the Saint-Bronze Paperweight.

The three animal-shaped artifacts each occupy a corner.

After being tormented by him for half an hour, the gargoyle looked even more ferocious than usual.

The Sphinx lamp had its eyes half-closed, looking as if it had nothing to do with me.

The bronze paperweight stood quietly with its head bowed.

Richard glanced at them.

"Naming is the pen, analysis is the ink, and ether is the paper. Without any one of these three, words cannot be written."

The prompts on the panel are very concise and to the point.

He turned off the lights and went to rest.

By the evening of the following day, Richard had signed the borrowing form for the training room at the academic affairs office.

There is a row of independent training rooms in the basement of the academy area, which students use to practice their techniques on weekdays.

The four walls were inlaid with sealing inscriptions, and the etheric field was pressed flat and stable.

Whatever spells are performed inside, those outside cannot hear or feel them.

The iron gate was locked from the inside, and Richard stood in the middle of the training room, summoning his shadow from behind the curtain into the material world.

The shadow stood upright.

That patch of black was much thicker than it had been a few months ago.

After the spirit was embedded inside, it developed its own etheric microcirculation and breathing rhythm. After training behind the veil for so long, its progress was visible to the naked eye.

Richard first conducted a baseline test.

"Stone armor".

He passed the thought to the shadow.

The shadow stretched out its dark arm, and a thin shell grew on its forearm.

The shell is very thin, but it's much better than the original semi-transparent shell.

Richard first noted down the initial standards, and then began naming the product.

What is the essence of a shadow?

He used his spiritual vision to scan the area from the inside out.

The shadow is a profile of himself cast on the other side of the curtain.

Its underlying character is exactly the same as Richard's: scholar, recorder, ferryman.

But a shadow also has a unique characteristic of its own: plasticity.

A shadow has no fixed form; it is a pure "image".

It possesses almost none of the stereotypical complexity found in other people.

It's like a lump of clay that hasn't been molded yet; you can shape it however you like.

Richard decided on the first name.

"shield."

It was an extremely simple word: ether flowed out and fell onto the shadow along the conduction path.

The shadow tightened, transforming from loose mist into solid ink.

"Stone armor".

The shadow was cast once more.

This time, the shell was almost twice as thick, and its shape was more regular, almost like a flat piece of armor attached to the forearm.

Richard reached out and tapped it; the hardness was far greater than before.

He cancelled that name, and a second name was submitted.

"nail."

The outline of the shadow changed, and the thick black mist condensed into sharp angles.

"Moon Nail".

The silver needles sprang from the shadow's fingertips like bullets, several times faster than before it was named.

The needle was driven into the inscription wall in the training room.

Richard leaned closer to take a look at the embedding depth, and the penetration was correspondingly enhanced.

The third name.

"quiet."

The outline of the shadow did not change significantly, but the frequency of the fluctuations in the entire mass of black mist decreased.

"Keep quiet."

A vacuum was expelled from the steel pipe in the shadow's palm.

Richard used his inspiration to measure, expanding the range and making the vacuum density more uniform.

After testing all three techniques, Richard sat down against the wall and began to ponder.

The conclusion before him made his palms sweat with excitement.

The spells cast by the shadow after it is named are even more powerful than those cast by its main body.

The reason is simple: the malleability of a shadow makes every name it is given a highly fitting one.

If you call it a shield, then it is a shield.

He himself applied the Stone Armor, which required him to contend with the muscles, bones, and skin.

The shadow doesn't need to be used; after gaining the bonus, the shadow can be laid out at will, and its hardness is unbelievable.

However, the duration remains an old problem.

The naming effect, without using [Spirit Appearance], begins to fade after about ten minutes.

The shadow's presence in the material world is rapidly consuming ether, and naming itself also consumes it; both are burning simultaneously.

Richard stood up from the ground and dusted off his pants.

There was one last thing to test, and he conjured up the bronze Hermes mask.