The Art of Gold Digging

Ch.23- Countdown.

Tuesday. Four days before entering the Eastern Wing.

Amy grimaced as she tried to channel energy through the spirit focus stone for what felt like the hundredth time.

"This is impossible," she muttered, glaring at the stone as if it had personally offended her.

[You’ve been at it for fifteen minutes. Mastery typically requires more than a quarter-hour of halfhearted effort.]

"Fifteen minutes is practically an eternity," she grumbled, slouching deeper into her chair in the Academy library's desolate corner. "And I’ve been giving it my full attention."

[Your ‘full attention’ included stopping to count ceiling tiles. Twice.]

"I was resting my eyes,” Amy defended.

[Of course you were.]

With a dramatic sigh, she straightened. "The problem is, nobody’s explained exactly how this is supposed to work. For some reason there are no books on how to use this shit, and Lirienne just said ‘channel your energy through it’ like that’s some kind of helpful instruction."

[Noble kids learn to do this by themselves at the age of three, you know.]

Amy ignored the comment and instead took a deep breath, closing her eyes again, focusing on the sensation she’d experienced during the last class. The warm, golden pathway of energy had felt so clear, but trying to redirect it was like attempting to grab smoke—she could see it but not touch it.

After several more minutes of frustrated effort, she flopped backward onto the chair. "This is useless. I’ll never get it."

[Have some patience. You barely tried. What happened to the Amy Stake who spent the whole night trying to get her ability to do anything? Where did my high-effort loser go?]

"..."

I wish this damn book could feel pain.

[C’mon, try again. You just need more time.]

"I don’t have time… Alright, maybe I do have a little time. But still, I’m basically useless in a fight. I need to get stronger—fast."

[Rome wasn’t built in a day.]

"But I don’t have to build Rome. I just need to... I don’t know, build a small defensive hut. Enough to not be completely helpless…” She let out a long sigh. “If only there was an easier way…”

As she uttered these words, an idea suddenly struck her.

Wait. Maybe...

Without wasting a single second, she closed her eyes and reached out with her ability. The familiar pressure built behind her eyes as she crafted her question: how can I successfully channel energy through this focus stone?

Images flashed through her mind: herself sitting in this exact position, but her breathing was slower, more deliberate. A visualization of energy flowing from her core, down her arm, gathering in her palm before seeping into the crystal.

The strain of using her ability made her wince, but she still followed the instructions, matching her breathing to the pattern she’d seen. The stone in her hand grew warmer, and when she opened her eyes, it was glowing with a steady, soft golden light.

"Ha! I did it!" she exclaimed, low enough not to disturb the distant students. "I did it! I can’t believe I just did that—that was so easy."

[That’s cheating…]

"No, it isn’t. If it was, then why is it possible?"

[That logic makes no sense.]

"Ughhh. It’s not cheating. It’s... creative problem-solving. Yup, that’s what it is." Amy grinned as she inspected the glowing stone. "Hey, at least it’s working. And now that I know how it feels, I can probably do it without using my ability next time."

[I’m surprised your ability works for this, too. Makes me wonder what other applications it has.]

"I’m amazing, I know~," Amy replied, letting the glow fade as she released her focus.

[Still, you won’t be able to use that in a fight. Your core will get tired twice as fast. However, I’ll admit it’s a very interesting approach. You’re very good at being lazy.]

"Thank you!" she gathered her things, feeling oddly accomplished. Somehow, she had a feeling she wouldn’t feel as good if she’d accomplished it the standard way.

Yup. Cheati—Errr… Creative problem-solving is the best!

As Amy left the library, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Academy grounds. She twirled the focus stone between her fingers, admiring the faint glow it emitted whenever she concentrated.

"You know," she said, addressing Libris in her satchel, "using my power to learn magic might actually be genius. I can skip the whole ‘trial and error’ phase and go straight to competence."

[A shortcut to competence is not the same as mastery. Your understanding will remain shallow.]

"Shallow understanding is better than no understanding," Amy countered. "Besides, once I know how to do it, I can practice properly. This just... jumps me ahead to the good part."

[...I hate the fact that you’re right… The worst thing is that I can’t nerf it since the line between your own power and the reader’s given ability isn’t well defined.]

Amy smiled at those words. She hadn’t thought about the fact that her ability could have been nerfed, but it sure was reassuring hearing it wouldn’t.

Back in her room, she continued using the new trick, training with the stone and trying to strengthen the link. It barely took a few hours for the results to appear.

[Ability Mastery has increased to level 5. Magic has also gone from C (F) to C (E). Congratulations—And before you ask, C corresponds to your magic power and E to your proficiency.]

It was night, and her head throbbed with pain, a little blood coming from her nose. Yet she felt everything but tired—at least, not mentally.

"Easy peasy~"

Wednesday. Three days before entering the Eastern Wing.

The Hall of Elements was nearly empty when Amy arrived. According to Libris, most students preferred the busier afternoon hours, so Amy had forced herself to come in the early morning for privacy—definitely not because she didn’t want people to see her embarrassing physical state.

"I hate mornings," she muttered for perhaps the tenth time that day, stretching her arms above her head. "They're evil."

[An interesting moral position. Do you have evidence that mornings are, in fact, sentient malevolent entities?]

"My suffering is all the evidence I need."

She chose a training mat near the spirit archway. After setting Libris down safely at the edge of the mat, she began the warm-up exercises Professor Drayke had demonstrated in their last class.

Ten minutes in, she was already breathing hard, sweat beading on her forehead.

"This is... ridiculous," she panted between jumping jacks. "I don’t think I can…" she trailed off as she suddenly collapsed onto the mat, sprawled out like a starfish. "I'm dying."

[You look fine to me.]

"You… don't even have eyes, smartass…" she grumbled, chest heaving.

[I don't need eyes to know you're being dramatic.]

Amy reluctantly pushed herself back up. She pulled out her focus stone, concentrating on channeling her energy through it.

Although she hadn’t found much information to help with the stone yesterday, she had discovered that training her magic after a long session of physical effort was a very efficient way to empower her core.

"See? Progress..." She grinned as the crystal glowed brighter than yesterday, responding more readily to her intentions.

[Indeed. At this rate, you'll master basic energy channeling by approximately the year 12057.]

"Annoying piece of paper..."

After regaining her breath, Amy spent the next hour alternating between physical conditioning and practicing with the focus stone. By the end, her arms and legs felt like overcooked noodles, but she had managed to maintain the stone's glow for nearly five minutes without interruption—a personal best.

As she was preparing to leave, Professor Drayke entered, his mechanical arm whirring softly as he carried a stack of training equipment.

"Miss Stake," he acknowledged with a nod. "Early riser, I see."

"Not by choice, Professor," she replied, trying not to look as exhausted as she felt.

His wolf ears twitched with what might have been amusement. "Discipline rarely begins with choice, yet choice emerges from discipline." He glanced at her focus stone, which still emitted a faint glow. "You are very diligent."

Amy blinked in surprise at the unexpected praise. "Thank you, sir."

"Your physical conditioning, however..." His eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed her slumped posture. "It's quite lacking."

And there it was. Amy resisted the urge to sigh. "I'm working on it, Professor."

"Work harder," he said simply, but without malice. "In combat, a strong ability means nothing if your body fails before you can use it. This applies double for you, since your ability is directly correlated to your stamina."His words uncomfortably echoed what Libris had been telling her.

"Yes, sir."

As she left the Hall, she checked her status window, curious if her efforts were making any difference:

STR: F / END: E+ / DEX: E / AGI: F / MAG: C (E+)

"E+ Hehehe~" she said, feeling a small surge of accomplishment.

[You are enjoying this more than you should...]

"Honestly, I’m starting to get why people go to the gym. It’s a pain in the ass at first, but the accomplishment it gives…" She shook her head with a smile, letting the words die.

[...Who are you, and what have you done with Amy?]

Thursday. Two days before entering the Eastern Wing.

Amy stifled a yawn as she settled into her seat for Professor Vanheim's special lecture. The announcement had been unexpected—an additional class scheduled outside the regular curriculum, attendance mandatory.

"This better be important," she muttered, watching other students file in with expressions ranging from curious to annoyed.

[They didn’t put “special” in the title for nothing, you know.]

The lecture hall fell silent as Vanheim entered. His blue eyes surveyed the room with quiet intensity.

"Good afternoon," he began without preamble. "Today's session addresses a topic typically reserved for third-years, but recent events have necessitated accelerating certain aspects of your education."

He turned and wrote a single word on the board: nightmares.

The entire class instantly came alive.

[Good timing.]

Amy sighed, suddenly feeling nervous as she was reminded of what was coming. This class obviously wasn’t a coincidence; it was foreshadowing, and barely disguised at that.

"It’s really coming, isn’t it…" Amy muttered.

[It is. Sorry, Amy. If it were in my power, you’d be rotting in bed for as long as you wanted, but–]

"It’s alright, Libris. I think I have already accepted my situation."

Professor Vanheim waited for the murmurs to subside before continuing. "In light of the Building B incident, the faculty has decided that all students should receive basic instruction regarding these phenomena, which normally is kept private. Although this is merely an introduction compared to what you’ll study in the future, I heartily recommend that you pay close attention;some of what we’ll cover today might very well save your life."

The room fell utterly silent. After what had happened, not a single student doubted his warning.

"Nightmares respond to stimuli," Vanheim continued. "They adapt to threats and pursue goals—primarily the expansion of their influence in the material realm or the acquisition of energy with a specific objective in mind."

He turned back to the board, adding a diagram with labeled components. "Every Nightmare possesses three critical components: a Tether, which anchors it to our reality; a Core, which maintains its internal structure; and a Catalyst, which fuels its growth. Understanding these elements is essential for those unfortunate enough to find themselves trapped within one.

"To escape a Nightmare, one must typically disrupt either the Catalyst or the Core. The safest approach is usually severing the Catalyst—though ‘safe’ remains a relative term in such circumstances."

Amy scribbled notes mechanically, her mind already connecting his words to what they might face in the Eastern Wing.

"What’s most crucial to understand," Vanheim continued, "is that Nightmares do not function according to conventional reality. Time, space, and causality become... flexible. What appears solid may be permeable. What seems distant might be within reach. Your senses will lie to you."

He tapped his wooden pointer against the board. The sharp crack made several students jump.

"This is why traditional combat training often proves insufficient against Nightmare entities. Your greatest weapon isn’t strength or even magical power—it’s adaptability; the ability to question what you perceive and respond to shifting realities.

"Nightmares follow patterns. Each possesses a unique set of rules that govern its internal logic. Identifying these rules is crucial to surviving and potentially escaping them."

Amy couldn't shake the feeling that his words were aimed directly at her—and at all of them planning to enter the Eastern Wing.

"Professor," a second-year student raised his hand, "are Nightmares artificially created?"

Vanheim nodded, apparently pleased by the question. "An excellent question. While most documented Nightmares are deliberately constructed through ritual magic, there are places in our world where reality has grown... thin. In these locations, Nightmares can form spontaneously, particularly during certain celestial alignments."

Like the Vernal Alignment Zayd mentioned, Amy thought.

"Such natural Nightmares often lack the focused malevolence of their constructed counterparts," Vanheim added, "but they can be more unpredictable, shifting according to rules we don’t fully understand."

The lecture continued for another hour, covering detection methods, defensive techniques, and historical accounts of particularly notorious Nightmares throughout history. By the time it had ended, Amy had filled several pages of notes.

"Remember," Vanheim said as students gathered their things, "awareness is your first line of defense. Be mindful of unusual spatial distortions, unexplained emotional responses, or recurring symbols appearing in your environment. These may indicate proximity to a forming Nightmare."

As the class dispersed, Amy lingered, flipping through her notes. She was tense—somewhat scared—but not terrified. Not this time. This time, she was better prepared.

As the lecture hall emptied, she remained seated, fingers resting lightly on the edges of her notebook. They were shaking slightly.

A thought she’d tried to ignore—and that had been hiding in the back of her mind—emerged for the first time, whispering in her ear. Maybe the Nightmare could affect her too, in addition to the protagonist’s group.

She had already faced worse, she reminded herself. Even if this was mentally worse—even if the Nightmare in the Eastern Wing contained things she had hoped would stay buried forever—

It wouldn’t matter.

Because she knew the rules now: knew what to look for, knew her limits, knew her strengths.

It should be easier. There would be fights, sure. But this wasn’t the kind of danger that killed you in a flash, like with the impostors.

"Nobody’s gonna die this time," Amy whispered aloud, almost like she was trying to convince the air itself. "It’s mostly psychological anyway. Just weird illusions and fear projections. I’ve survived worse."

She grinned. It was shaky. But it was still a grin.

Her grin didn’t last long, her previous thought creeping back in.

She tried to dismiss it– reassure herself.

But the doubt kept growing. And eventually, she couldn’t hold it back anymore. She had to ask.

Quietly—almost too softly for Libris to hear—her voice came.

“Is he going to be there…?” She gulped at the thought. “My father… will he appear?”

There was a pause. A long one. Longer than usual.

[...Yes], Libris finally replied.

Amy's heart stopped beating.

She sat there, staring down at the ground—eyes unfocused, lips parted slightly, as if a breath had caught halfway.

Libris said nothing more. It didn’t need to.

After a moment, Amy closed her notebook. The pages trembled only slightly in her hands now.

She stood, spine straightening inch by inch like she was bracing for impact.

"I see," she said, voice low but steady.

And with that, she walked out of the hall. Not speaking a single word for the rest of the day.