Malcolm could barely sit still during morning meditation. Every few seconds, his eyes would drift open to check the position of shadows on the meditation hall floor, tracking the agonizingly slow passage of time. His mind wasn't on flame cultivation or proper breathing—it was fixed firmly on the small black pool in his soul space and what he'd witnessed yesterday afternoon.

  When the meditation period finally ended, he was the first student on his feet, ignoring the pins and needles in his legs as he made a beeline for the exit. Flamecaller Hirayama didn't stop him. True to his word, the old man had arranged for Malcolm to skip group practice in favor of "individualized cultivation methods," though what exactly that meant remained to be seen.

  Malcolm scarfed down breakfast, barely tasting the rice porridge as he mentally cataloged items he could test in his pool. The dried herb stem had been a complete surprise—the way it had broken down into that glowing essence orb and pile of rich soil. What would happen with other materials? Would the process work the same way? And most importantly, what could he actually do with these essence orbs?

  "You're unusually focused this morning," Jirou commented, watching Malcolm shovel food into his mouth at an alarming rate.

  "Mmph—just hungry," Malcolm replied around a mouthful of porridge, drawing disapproving looks from nearby students. "Got a lot to do today."

  "Resource management duties?"

  "Yeah. And I've got some... ideas I want to try out."

  Jirou adjusted his glasses. "Ideas involving what?"

  Malcolm hesitated. Jirou had been helpful in explaining Kagetsu concepts, but he was still firmly traditional in his views. Revealing too much about the void pool might be risky.

  "Just... some organization methods for handling materials more efficiently," Malcolm said vaguely, pushing his empty bowl aside. "Nothing revolutionary."

  The lie felt awkward on his tongue, but he wasn't ready to share his discovery. Not until he understood it better himself.

  As he glanced around the dining hall, he spotted Sorha Lin at a distant table. She caught his eye and gave him a slight nod, as if confirming their planned meeting. Malcolm had almost forgotten her offer to visit his workspace that afternoon. Would she recognize what the void pool could do? Given her knowledge of alternative energy manifestations, she might be a valuable ally—or a dangerous witness. He'd have to be careful about how much he revealed.

  Theoretical Foundations class dragged by with excruciating slowness. Malcolm doodled in the margins of his notes, sketching what he remembered of the essence orb—its perfect spherical shape, the way it had pulsed with concentrated energy. Professor Liko called on him twice, and both times he fumbled for answers, earning her trademark disapproving click of the tongue.

  "Sinclair-san, if your attention continues to wander, perhaps remedial evening sessions would help focus your mind," she said after his second failure to answer correctly.

  "Sorry, Professor," Malcolm mumbled, forcing himself to at least pretend to concentrate for the remainder of the class.

  By the time midday meal arrived, Malcolm was practically vibrating with impatience. He wolfed down his food and slipped away before anyone could engage him in conversation. As he hurried across the Academy grounds toward the western gate, his mind raced with possibilities.

  If his pool really could break down materials into their basic components... if he could extract pure essence directly from herbs and other substances without all the ceremonial procedures Enshin insisted were necessary... that would change everything.

  The familiar creak of the western gate brought a smile to his face. Elder Mozu was nowhere to be seen—likely napping in his small hut near the compost heaps, as had become his afternoon habit. Malcolm completed his assigned collection route in record time, nearly jogging between departments as he gathered the day's discards.

  When his official duties were finished, he made his way to his hidden workspace in the northeastern corner. The afternoon sun slanted through the cherry tree branches, casting dappled shadows across his salvaged table. The quiet was broken only by distant birds and the occasional rustling as small creatures moved through the piles of discarded materials.

  Malcolm checked over both shoulders before settling on his makeshift stool. Confident he was unobserved, he closed his eyes and accessed his soul space.

  The small spherical area appeared immediately in his mind's eye—becoming easier to visualize with each attempt. The black pool at the bottom seemed to pulse with anticipation, as if aware of his intentions. The green essence orb from yesterday's herb stem still hovered above it, glowing with its own inner light.

  "Alright," Malcolm whispered to himself. "Let's see what you can really do."

  He mentally retrieved a withered flower from his soul space—another discard from the botanical gardens. Unlike yesterday's accident, this time he deliberately moved the dried bloom toward the pool, watching intently as it made contact with the obsidian surface.

  Just like before, the pool seemed to pull the item in with surprising force. The flower sank beneath the surface and disappeared entirely. Malcolm held his breath, waiting.

  After a few seconds, the pool began to bubble and ripple. Warmth spread throughout his soul space, and Malcolm felt a strange tingling sensation at the base of his skull. Then, just as before, two distinct products emerged: a floating orb—this one a soft purple color—and a small pile of dark soil at the edge of the pool.

  "It works!" Malcolm whispered, excitement building. "It actually works consistently!"

  He examined the purple orb more carefully this time. Unlike the green one from the herb stem, this essence sphere had subtle internal patterns—swirling currents of deeper violet within the overall purple glow. When he focused his attention on it, the orb moved closer, responsive to his mental direction.

  Malcolm spent the next hour methodically testing different materials. A piece of oak bark produced a brown-amber essence orb. A dried mushroom cap yielded a milky white sphere with gray striations. Each time, the original material completely disappeared, broken down into its core components—pure essence captured in the floating orbs and base matter transformed into that rich soil-like substance.

  Some materials took longer to process than others. The denser the item, the more time the pool needed to break it down. But the result was always the same: complete decomposition, with nothing of the original form remaining.

  "This is incredible," Malcolm muttered, watching a jade-green orb rise from the pool after processing a handful of moss. "It's like... it's extracting the magical or medicinal properties and condensing them into pure essence."

  A thought struck him. What about non-plant materials? Would the pool work on other substances?

  He retrieved a small piece of copper wire—another salvaged item from the dumping ground. When he dropped it into the pool, the process took nearly twice as long as the plant materials. The pool bubbled more vigorously, almost agitated, before finally producing results.

  This time, no essence orb appeared. Instead, at the edge of the pool, a small nugget of pure, gleaming copper materialized—all impurities and oxidation removed, leaving only the pristine metal.

  "Whoa," Malcolm breathed. "Complete refinement."

  His mind raced with implications. Traditional alchemical processing at Enshin involved dozens of steps—grinding, soaking, heating, filtering, infusing—all performed with exacting precision and ceremonial flourish. But his pool accomplished the end result in one step, breaking materials down to their purest forms without any of the intermediate stages.

  With growing excitement, Malcolm decided to try something more complex. From his collection of salvaged items, he selected a small crystal that had been discarded from the resonance laboratory—a cracked focusing stone with faint traces of magical energy still clinging to it.

  The stone was larger and denser than anything he'd tried before. When he placed it in the pool, the liquid surface seemed to resist at first, rippling around the crystal without immediately pulling it under. Then, with a sudden lurch, the stone sank.

  This time, the process took much longer—nearly five minutes of intense bubbling and rippling. Malcolm felt the warmth in his soul space increase, almost to the point of discomfort. Then, just when he was considering pulling the stone out (if that was even possible), the pool settled.

  From its depths rose not one but three distinct essence orbs. The first was a crystalline blue, perfectly transparent with flickers of light dancing inside. The second glowed a warm amber color, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat. The third was tiny but intensely bright—a pinpoint of pure white light that hurt to look at directly.

  At the edge of the pool appeared several small piles of material: clear crystal dust, a few tiny nuggets of some silverish metal, and what looked like ordinary sand.

  "It separated everything," Malcolm whispered in awe. "The magical components, the crystal itself, even the trace elements."

  As he studied the floating orbs, Malcolm noticed something else—a subtle blue mist hanging in the air of his soul space. It seemed to have been released during the decomposition process, especially during the breaking down of the magical stone. The mist drifted aimlessly, occasionally brushing against the boundaries of his space or swirling around the floating essence orbs.

  Curiously, he mentally reached toward the mist. It responded to his attention, coalescing slightly where he focused, but remained insubstantial. Unlike the essence orbs, it didn't seem to have a particular purpose or direction—just excess energy released during the decomposition process.

  "So that's where all my energy's going," Malcolm murmured, making the connection with Flamecaller Hirayama's suggestion. "Instead of forming a flame, it's getting used up by the pool and released as this mist." He watched the blue wisps dance around his soul space. "No wonder I can't manifest fire—my energy's already taking another form."

  Malcolm spent another hour testing different items—more plant materials, small bits of metal, even a fragment of enchanted glass that had been discarded after cracking. Each time, the pool performed flawlessly, breaking everything down into its component parts, releasing varying amounts of that mysterious blue mist in the process.

  By mid-afternoon, a collection of essence orbs hovered above his pool, each a different color and intensity. The edge of the pool was ringed with neat piles of base materials—purified metals, crystalline powders, and rich soil.

  Time slipped away as Malcolm lost himself in experimentation. The more complex the item he processed, the more fascinating the results. He became so absorbed in his exploration that the outside world faded into the background. The gentle rustling of the cherry tree leaves, the gradual lengthening of shadows across his workspace, the distant sounds of the academy—all went unnoticed as Malcolm pushed the boundaries of what his mysterious pool could do.

  He was jarred back to awareness only when his stomach growled loudly, reminding him he'd been sitting in the same position for hours. With a start, he realized how much time had passed. And Sorha—hadn't she mentioned visiting? Had she come and gone while he was lost in his soul space?

  Malcolm opened his eyes, blinking as he readjusted to the physical world. The hidden corner of the dumping ground was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across his workspace. He stretched, surprised at how stiff his muscles felt.

  His mind buzzed with questions and possibilities. What exactly were these essence orbs? How could he use them? Were they the same as the essences that traditional alchemists extracted through their lengthy processes?

  Most importantly—what would happen if he tried to combine them?

  Malcolm closed his eyes again, returning to his soul space. The collection of glowing orbs waited, suspended above the black pool. Tentatively, he focused on two of them—the green herb essence and the purple flower essence—and mentally guided them toward each other.

  As the orbs touched, Malcolm felt a strange resonance, like plucking two adjacent strings on an instrument. They didn't immediately merge as he'd expected. Instead, they orbited each other in a delicate dance, maintaining their distinct forms while clearly affecting one another. The green pulsed with new vibrancy, while the purple developed subtle green highlights that swirled through its internal patterns like watercolor bleeding into parchment.

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  "Interesting," Malcolm murmured. "They influence each other without losing their identity."

  He pushed them closer, applying more mental pressure. With sudden fluidity, the two orbs merged into a single, larger sphere—swirling with both green and purple energies that gradually blended into a rich turquoise hue.

  The combined essence felt different—more potent somehow, with properties of both original materials but also something new. Malcolm couldn't identify what exactly it would do, but he could sense its increased power, a humming potential that tingled against his awareness like static electricity.

  "Holy shit," he whispered. "I can make completely new combinations."

  The possibilities seemed endless. Traditional alchemy at Enshin focused on precise recipes handed down through generations—specific combinations of ingredients processed in exact ways to produce known results. But with his pool, Malcolm could potentially create entirely new essence combinations, bypassing all the intermediate steps.

  A twig snapped somewhere behind him, and Malcolm's eyes flew open. He twisted around on his stool, heart hammering.

  "Impressive little setup you've got here," Elder Mozu said, emerging from behind a pile of discarded crates. The old man looked as rumpled as ever, his weathered face creased with what might have been amusement or skepticism—it was hard to tell.

  "Elder Mozu!" Malcolm scrambled to his feet, wondering how much the old man had seen. "I was just, uh, organizing some materials."

  "With your eyes closed for the better part of two hours?" The elder shuffled closer, leaning on his gnarled staff. "That's some interesting organizing technique they teach in Redoak."

  Malcolm's mind raced. Had Elder Mozu been watching him the whole time? Could the old man somehow see what he was doing in his soul space?

  "I was... meditating," Malcolm tried. "Flamecaller Hirayama recommended I practice in a quiet place."

  "Hmm." Elder Mozu's eyes narrowed slightly. "And does this 'meditation' have anything to do with that unusual feature in your soul space? The one Master Seiran is so concerned about?"

  Malcolm froze. There was no point denying it—the old man clearly knew something.

  "How did you—"

  "Boy, I've been handling magical waste for forty-three years," Elder Mozu interrupted, tapping his temple. "You think I can't recognize when someone's accessing their soul space? You practically glow with it." He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. "The energy signature changes. Most can't see it, but I've developed a sensitivity over the decades."

  Malcolm hesitated, weighing his options. Elder Mozu hadn't reported him for setting up this unofficial workspace, and he'd even subtly encouraged Malcolm's exploration of the dumping ground. Maybe the old man could be trusted.

  "It's my pool," Malcolm admitted finally. "The black pool in my soul space. It... it does something amazing."

  Elder Mozu settled himself on a nearby crate, adjusting his robes with deliberate slowness. "Go on."

  "It breaks things down," Malcolm explained, his words tumbling out faster as his excitement overcame caution. "Completely breaks them down into pure components. Like, if I put in a herb—"

  "Into what exactly?" Elder Mozu cut in, one eyebrow raised.

  Malcolm's hands sketched a sphere in the air. "A perfect floating orb of pure essence! And the rest turns into this super-rich soil. Metals come out refined, and magical items?" He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "They separate into different essence orbs for each type of magic."

  Elder Mozu's weathered face remained unreadable. "And you stumbled onto this... when?"

  "Yesterday. By accident. I was just trying to get something out of my soul space and it touched the pool." Malcolm leaned forward eagerly. "Elder Mozu, it does instantly what takes traditional alchemists days or weeks to accomplish. It's like... it's like having a perfect extraction system built right into me."

  "Hmm." The elder studied him for a long moment, then asked, "Can you control these extracted essences? Direct them? Combine them?"

  "Yes! I just tried combining two different herb essences, and they merged into something new. I think I could create completely unique combinations no one's ever tried before."

  Elder Mozu was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than usual.

  "There was a student here, oh, forty years ago now. Nam Sora." A distant look crossed his face. "Brilliant mind. Unconventional methods."

  "What did she do?" Malcolm asked, leaning forward.

  "Theorized that soul spaces might have specialized functions beyond simple storage." The elder's finger traced a circle in the air. "Said they could actively process materials if properly developed."

  "So this isn't completely unprecedented? Others have had special soul spaces?"

  "Specialized functions have been theorized," the elder corrected, raising a bony finger. "But documented cases are extremely rare, if they exist at all." He fixed Malcolm with a penetrating stare. "Which makes what you've discovered particularly significant."

  "And potentially valuable?" Malcolm asked, thinking of the practical applications.

  A thin smile crossed Elder Mozu's face. "Indeed. Though value can be measured in many ways. Gold and knowledge chief among them, and one considerably more dangerous than the other."

  Malcolm nodded slowly, understanding the warning beneath the elder's words. His discovery could be academically valuable, but also financially lucrative—and either path might attract unwanted attention.

  "So what should I do?" he asked. "Should I tell Master Seiran? The Academy might want to study this."

  Elder Mozu snorted. "And turn yourself into a research specimen? Have your ability dissected and documented and regulated until all the wonder is drained from it?" He shook his head. "The Academy? They toss anything that's not perfect. Been doing it for centuries." He fixed Malcolm with a knowing look. "Maybe it takes a Western boy with a strange pool to show them what they've been throwing away all these years."

  "So I should keep it secret?"

  "I didn't say that." The elder poked Malcolm's chest with one bony finger. "I'm saying understand it first. Master it. Learn its limits and capabilities on your own terms. Then, when you're ready—when you have something undeniable to show—that's when you bring it to light."

  Malcolm considered this advice. It made sense. If he revealed his ability now, he'd be subjected to endless tests and evaluations, with no guarantee that anyone would recognize its potential. Better to explore it privately first, develop practical applications that even the most traditional masters couldn't dismiss.

  "Thanks, Elder Mozu," Malcolm said sincerely. "For not, you know, reporting me or whatever."

  The old man waved a dismissive hand. "The Academy wastes too much potential already. I've watched it happen year after year." His gaze swept over the piles of discarded materials surrounding them. "Besides, somebody needs to find value in all this mess."

  As Elder Mozu shuffled away, Malcolm returned to his stool, mind racing with new possibilities. The old man's words had given him not just permission but a sense of purpose. His void pool wasn't just a strange anomaly—it was a tool with untapped potential, one that might eventually challenge the Academy's rigid methods.

  But first, he needed to experiment systematically. Test different materials, document the results, learn to predict what kinds of essence orbs would be produced. Most importantly, he needed to figure out practical uses for these essences.

  The evening bell sounded in the distance, reminding Malcolm of his supervised soul space session with Master Seiran. He quickly tidied his workspace, concealing his salvaged tools beneath a tattered tarp.

  As he jogged back toward the Academy buildings, the possibilities fizzing in his mind like shaken soda. A strategy was forming too—nod respectfully during his session with Master Seiran, answer questions just vaguely enough, and above all, keep the pool's true capabilities to himself. At least for now.

  His strange, small soul space with its mysterious pool might be the key to his success after all—just not in any way the Academy would expect.

  Master Seiran's office was exactly as Malcolm remembered it—cluttered with scrolls and books in a way that seemed at odds with the precise organization seen elsewhere at Enshin. The master himself sat behind his desk, hands folded atop an ancient text, watching as Malcolm entered and bowed.

  "Sinclair-san," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "Flamecaller Hirayama tells me he has excused you from group meditation in favor of individualized practice."

  "Yes, Master," Malcolm replied, keeping his face carefully neutral. "He suggested my energy might naturally flow toward my soul space rather than manifesting as a flame."

  "Interesting theory." Master Seiran's expression revealed nothing of his thoughts on the matter. "And has your soul space shown any changes since our last assessment?"

  Malcolm hesitated. He couldn't lie outright—that would be too easily discovered—but he wasn't ready to reveal everything either.

  "The pool seems slightly larger," he admitted. "And I've gotten better at accessing my space quickly."

  "Progress, however minor, is still progress," the master said, rising from his desk. "Let us examine your current state more thoroughly."

  He gestured for Malcolm to stand in the now-familiar circular design on the floor. Malcolm complied, his palms suddenly sweaty. What if Master Seiran could somehow see the essence orbs floating above his pool? What if the blue mist was visible to an experienced practitioner?

  "Close your eyes and access your soul space," Master Seiran instructed, his voice slipping into the rhythmic cadence used for guided meditation.

  Malcolm obeyed, visualizing his small spherical domain. To his relief, he found that he could mentally push the collection of essence orbs to the periphery of his space, partly concealing them in the shadows away from the pool. The blue mist had largely dissipated, with only faint traces swirling in the upper regions of his space.

  "Describe what you see," Master Seiran said.

  "The space is still small, about a meter in diameter," Malcolm began, choosing his words carefully. "The pool at the bottom seems a little larger than before—maybe eight inches across now instead of six. The boundaries feel more responsive, like they could expand if properly stimulated."

  "And have you attempted any practices to expand them?"

  "Not deliberately," Malcolm said truthfully. "I've been focusing on getting comfortable with the space as it is before trying to make it bigger."

  Master Seiran made a small sound of approval. "A wise approach. Many students rush to expand before mastering the fundamentals." He began to circle Malcolm slowly. "Have you noticed any other changes or unusual features?"

  Malcolm swallowed hard. "Sometimes I see... a kind of mist or energy in the space. Very faint, bluish."

  "Ambient energy," Master Seiran nodded. "That is normal, particularly for spaces undergoing active development. It should dissipate naturally or be absorbed by the boundaries over time."

  Malcolm relaxed slightly. The blue mist, at least, wasn't unusual enough to raise alarms.

  "Now," Master Seiran continued, "since flame manifestation seems resistant to standard cultivation methods in your case, we will attempt an alternative approach. Focus on the pool in your soul space. Observe it closely, but do not interact with it."

  Malcolm focused his attention on the obsidian surface of the pool, careful to maintain mental distance as instructed.

  "This pool represents a concentration of your personal energy," Master Seiran explained. "Rather than forcing your energy toward flame manifestation, we will attempt to redirect a small portion of this pooled energy outward. Visualize a thin stream rising from the surface—not the pool itself moving, but energy emanating from it."

  Interesting, Malcolm thought. The master was treating the pool as an energy reservoir rather than a processing mechanism. He tried to follow the instructions, imagining a thread of energy rising from the pool's surface.

  To his surprise, something happened. A thin wisp of the blue mist that had been produced during his earlier decomposition experiments rose from the pool, responding to his visualization. It wasn't flame-like at all, but it was definitely energy movement.

  "I see something," Malcolm said excitedly. "Not a flame, but like... a thread of blue energy rising up."

  He heard Master Seiran move closer. "Excellent. Now, guide that energy toward your hand—not forcing it, but inviting it to flow in that direction."

  Malcolm tried to mentally direct the wisp of blue energy, coaxing it through his soul space and toward his physical hand. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then he felt a slight tingling in his palm, a subtle warmth that hadn't been there before.

  "I feel something in my hand," he reported. "Warmth. Tingling."

  "Open your eyes and observe," Master Seiran instructed.

  Malcolm opened his eyes. Hovering just above his palm was the faintest blue glow—not a flame by any means, but definitely a visible manifestation of energy. It flickered uncertainly, like a candle in a draft, but it persisted for several seconds before fading.

  Master Seiran's eyebrows rose slightly—the closest thing to surprise Malcolm had seen from him.

  "Most unusual," the master murmured. "Not a true alchemist's flame, but definitely externalized energy. The color suggests a connection to your soul space rather than standard flame cultivation."

  "Is that... good?" Malcolm asked cautiously.

  "It is neither good nor bad—merely different." Master Seiran made a note on a small scroll. "Traditionally, the alchemist's flame manifests as fire because fire is the element of transformation. Your energy appears to manifest in a more fluid form, which aligns with Flamecaller Hirayama's theory about your natural affinities."

  Malcolm felt a surge of hope. If Master Seiran accepted this alternative energy manifestation, he might not look too closely at the pool's actual function.

  "So I'm not completely failing at energy cultivation?" he asked.

  "You are developing along an unconventional path," Master Seiran replied diplomatically. "Which will require unconventional training methods." He returned to his desk and selected a thin volume bound in blue leather. "This text describes alternative energy manifestations documented over the centuries. Study chapters three and seven, which discuss fluid-type energy expressions."

  Malcolm accepted the book with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Master Seiran."

  "We will continue these specialized sessions twice weekly," the master continued. "In the meantime, practice the visualization we just performed. Attempt to strengthen the energy flow from pool to palm, but do not force it. Gentle guidance is key."

  As Malcolm bowed and turned to leave, Master Seiran added, "One moment, Sinclair-san. How are you finding your resource management duties? I understand Elder Mozu has given you considerable autonomy."

  Malcolm froze, his back to the master. Did he know about the hidden workspace? About his experiments?

  "It's... educational," he said carefully, turning back with what he hoped was a neutral expression. "I'm learning a lot about different materials and how they're used throughout the Academy."

  Master Seiran nodded slowly. "Elder Mozu has his eccentricities, but he possesses considerable practical knowledge. Do not hesitate to ask him questions about the materials you encounter."

  "I will, Master. Thank you."

  As Malcolm left the office, clutching the borrowed book to his chest, his mind raced. Had that been a subtle message? A hint that Master Seiran knew more than he was letting on? Or just an innocent piece of advice?

  Either way, Malcolm had managed to get through the session without revealing his discovery. Better still, his unusual energy manifestation seemed to be accepted as a legitimate, if unconventional, development path.

  As he walked back to the dormitory, Malcolm couldn't suppress a smile. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time since arriving at Enshin, it felt like his own path—not one forced upon him by tradition or circumstance, but one uniquely suited to his abilities.

  His void pool might be the strangest soul space feature in Academy history, but it was his strange feature. And he was beginning to suspect it might be more valuable than anyone—perhaps even Elder Mozu—yet realized.