"What do you mean you're out of silverleaf?" Malcolm stared incredulously at the supply office attendant, a pinch-faced fourth-year who seemed personally offended by his question. "It's the most basic herb in every first-year kit."

  The attendant—Sato, according to the name badge pinned precisely to his immaculate robe—sighed as if Malcolm had asked him to explain breathing. "As announced in morning assembly, certain standard materials are temporarily restricted due to supply limitations." He gestured to a notice board where a scroll had been posted, its edges already curling from the damp spring air. "Priority allocation is limited to advanced research projects and third-year examination preparations."

  Malcolm hadn't attended morning assembly—he'd been too busy setting up his newly approved reclamation station in a small shed near the western edge of the dumping ground. Elder Mozu had helped him secure official permission, though it had come with so many conditions and documentation requirements that the approval scroll was nearly two feet long.

  "This is ridiculous," Malcolm muttered, scanning the notice. "Silverleaf, mountain sage, blue crystal dust... these are all basic components."

  "The spring merchant caravan from the Southern Provinces has been delayed," Sato explained with exaggerated patience. "Unusually heavy rains have made the mountain passes impassable."

  "But we're headed into midterm projects," Malcolm protested. "How is everyone supposed to complete their assignments without materials?"

  Sato's expression shifted from annoyed to smug. "Perhaps better planning would have prevented last-minute requisitions," he suggested, pointedly looking at Malcolm's wrinkled robes and perpetually disheveled hair. "Many prudent students maintain personal reserves for such contingencies."

  Of course they did. The wealthy ones, anyway. Malcolm bit back a sharp retort, knowing it wouldn't help his case. "Fine. What can I get?"

  Twenty minutes later, he stormed out of the supply office with a pathetically small allocation—barely enough materials for one simplistic practice remedy, let alone the comprehensive healing compound Professor Liko had assigned as their midterm project. The corridor outside was crowded with other students, their faces etched with varying degrees of frustration and concern as they waited their turn at the supply counter.

  "Supply shortage hit you too?" Jirou appeared at his side, his own requisition list clutched in one hand. Despite the general atmosphere of panic, he looked as composed as ever, his uniform perfectly pressed.

  "They're out of practically everything worth using," Malcolm confirmed. "How's everyone supposed to pass their midterms with no materials?"

  "Most third-years maintain private stocks," Jirou explained, echoing Sato's smug assertion. "Second-years typically form procurement groups to share resources. First-years..." He shrugged. "We're lowest priority, unfortunately."

  Malcolm's eye caught a tall figure gliding through the crowd—Lian Koda, carrying a bulging satchel that clearly held far more supplies than Malcolm had been allotted. "Seems like some people aren't having any problem getting what they need," he observed darkly.

  Jirou followed his gaze. "Research assistants to master-level instructors receive priority allocation," he explained in a hushed tone. "It's tradition."

  "Of course it is," Malcolm muttered. Everything in this place came down to tradition and hierarchy. "Well, I'm not failing my midterm because of some stupid supply chain issue."

  "What will you do?" Jirou asked, curiosity overriding his usual reserve.

  A slow smile spread across Malcolm's face. "I guess it's time to put my reclamation station to real use."

  The small shed that now served as Malcolm's official reclamation station had undergone a significant transformation in the two weeks since his permission had been granted. The interior was divided into sections—collection bins for different types of materials, a workbench for initial sorting, and a small private area in the rear where he could access his soul space without observation. Salvaged shelves lined the walls, carefully reinforced to hold the growing collection of reclaimed materials and extracted essences.

  Malcolm had spent every spare moment here, processing discarded materials through his void pool and documenting the results in the precise format mandated by his conditional status requirements. The official purpose—reclaiming useful components from Academy waste—provided perfect cover for refining his void pool techniques.

  Now, with the supply shortage adding urgency to his work, Malcolm surveyed his stockpile with new appreciation. The neatly labeled vials of extracted essence and jars of purified materials represented far more than academic experimentation—they were a potential solution to a very real problem.

  "Admiring your little kingdom?" Elder Mozu's gravelly voice came from the doorway. The old man leaned on his gnarled staff, eyes twinkling with amusement.

  "Just taking inventory," Malcolm replied, straightening a row of essence vials. "Have you heard about the supply shortage?"

  "Heard about it? I've been fielding complaints all morning." Elder Mozu shuffled inside, closing the door behind him. "Every master and instructor demanding access to the reserve stores, which aren't nearly as extensive as they believe." He snorted. "Eight hundred years of tradition, and no one ever thought to establish proper inventory management."

  "I might have a solution," Malcolm said, gesturing to his collection. "At least for some of the basic materials."

  Elder Mozu studied the neatly arranged supplies, stroking his wispy beard. "Quite the stockpile you've accumulated. All from processing waste?"

  Malcolm nodded. "Damaged, expired, or contaminated materials—all things the Academy would have thrown away. My void pool separates them into pure components." He picked up a vial of shimmering blue liquid. "This is essence of silverleaf, extracted from that pile of moldy herbs that came in last week. Just as potent as fresh, maybe more so since it's in concentrated form."

  "And your documentation is in order?" the elder asked, his tone suddenly serious. "Your conditional status requires—"

  "Complete records of all processing, I know," Malcolm assured him. "Everything's logged according to the approved format." He patted a thick ledger on his workbench. "I'm following all the rules."

  "Good." Elder Mozu nodded approvingly. "Because what I'm about to suggest bends enough regulations without adding procedural violations."

  Malcolm leaned forward eagerly. "What do you have in mind?"

  "The Twilight Exchange," Elder Mozu said, lowering his voice slightly though they were alone. "Tonight's gathering will be three times its usual size with this shortage. Every student with spare materials will be looking to trade up or sell at premium prices."

  "You think I should sell my reclaimed materials?"

  "Not sell," Elder Mozu corrected. "Establish value. If your reclaimed components can match or exceed the quality of standard supplies, you'll gain more than coins. You'll gain recognition."

  Malcolm understood immediately. This wasn't just about solving his own supply problem or making a profit—it was about demonstrating the legitimacy of his methods through practical results. If his reclaimed materials could help other students complete their assignments during a shortage, his Absorptive Nexus approach would gain credibility beyond theoretical debates.

  "I'll need to prepare," he said, already mentally cataloging what he could process before evening. "And I'll need to figure out fair value equivalents."

  "The market will determine that," Elder Mozu said with a cryptic smile. "Just be prepared for significant interest. Nothing motivates academic creativity like necessity." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Sinclair? A word of caution."

  "Yes?"

  "Success attracts attention—not all of it welcome." The old man's eyes were suddenly serious. "The established suppliers won't appreciate competition, even temporary. Tread carefully."

  By the time the evening bell sounded, Malcolm had prepared dozens of vials of extracted essences and jars of purified materials. Each was carefully labeled with its source and properties, and he'd created a detailed inventory to track his transactions. He couldn't afford to give his critics any excuse to challenge the legitimacy of his operation.

  The Twilight Exchange was indeed unusually crowded. The normally quiet clearing in the northeastern section of the dumping ground now buzzed with activity as students from all years gathered around makeshift stalls. The usual lanterns had been supplemented with additional light sources, creating a patchwork of illuminated spaces between shadows. The air hummed with hushed negotiations and the occasional exclamation when a particularly rare item appeared.

  Malcolm set up his table in his usual spot, arranging his offerings in neat rows. He'd barely finished when a cluster of students appeared, drawn by the distinctive color and clarity of his extracted essences.

  "Is that pure silverleaf extract?" A second-year girl with ink-stained fingers pointed to a vial of shimmering blue liquid. "The supply office claimed they had none left."

  "Reclaimed and purified just this afternoon," Malcolm confirmed. "Extracted from damaged stock using Absorptive Nexus methodology."

  The term had become his standard explanation—technically accurate while avoiding specifics about the void pool. After his supervised demonstration and the subsequent report to Grandmaster Kaiven, the Absorptive Nexus theory had gained enough recognition that most students now accepted it as a legitimate, if unusual, approach.

  "What's your price?" the girl asked, already reaching for her coin purse.

  "I'm not selling for coins," Malcolm said, having decided on this approach after talking with Elder Mozu. "Material exchange only. I need components for my own midterm project."

  This caused a stir among the gathered students. Currency was straightforward; barter required negotiation and value assessment. But with coins in short supply among most students, material exchange opened possibilities for those who had specialized components but limited funds.

  What followed was the busiest Exchange session Malcolm had ever experienced. Students offered materials he'd never even seen before—specialized catalysts, rare crystalline formations, preserved specimens from the far northern regions. For each transaction, he carefully recorded the exchange in his ledger, maintaining the documentation requirements of his conditional status.

  As the evening progressed, word spread beyond the first-years. Upper-class students began to appear, their initial skepticism giving way to genuine interest as they examined the quality of his reclaimed materials.

  "Your extraction purity exceeds standard commercial grade," noted a fourth-year with the insignia of the advanced research program embroidered on her sleeve. She held a vial of mountain sage essence up to her light crystal, studying its clarity. "How are you achieving this level of separation from damaged stock?"

  "Specialized soul space configuration," Malcolm replied, falling back on his established explanation. "The Absorptive Nexus allows for complete decomposition and essence isolation."

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  "Fascinating." She set down the vial and studied him with new interest. "The traditional approach would require multiple distillation cycles, each reducing the yield by approximately fifteen percent. Your method appears to suffer no such efficiency loss."

  "Different approach, different results," Malcolm said with a shrug, unconsciously echoing his response during the supervised demonstration.

  By the time the warning bell sounded—signaling one hour until curfew—Malcolm had traded nearly his entire stock of reclaimed materials. In return, he'd acquired everything he needed for his midterm project plus additional components for further experimentation. More importantly, he'd established his reclaimed materials as viable alternatives to traditional supplies—a practical demonstration of his methods' value that no theoretical argument could match.

  He was packing up his remaining items when a shadow fell across his table. Looking up, he found himself being studied by a tall third-year he recognized from the Academy's formal events. Shiren Valus. The guy practically radiated political connections—his family had ties to the imperial court, and everyone knew he spent more time networking with faculty than studying. Even standing here at the Exchange, he somehow looked like he was holding court rather than slumming with ordinary students.

  "Quite the enterprise you've developed, Sinclair," Shiren observed. His voice was smooth as expensive silk, with just enough aristocratic accent to remind everyone he wasn't like other students. Malcolm noticed he'd dropped the "-san" suffix everyone else used with his name—a small but deliberate power play.

  "Just making use of materials others discard," Malcolm replied neutrally, continuing to pack his supplies. He'd had limited interaction with Shiren before, but Elder Mozu had mentioned him as someone who "values traditional hierarchies."

  "Indeed." Shiren picked up an empty vial, examining the label with exaggerated care. "A practical solution to the current... inconvenience. Though one wonders about the broader implications."

  "Broader implications?" Malcolm's guard immediately went up.

  "Supply systems exist for a reason," Shiren explained, setting down the vial with precise movements. "Quality control. Proper allocation based on academic standing. Maintenance of appropriate standards." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "When individuals circumvent these systems, even with the best intentions, it can lead to... disruptions."

  The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Malcolm had positioned his reclamation program as supporting the Academy's interests, but Shiren was suggesting it undermined established order.

  "I'm not circumventing anything," Malcolm countered, keeping his voice level despite his rising irritation. "My reclamation work is officially approved. Every process is documented. I'm turning waste into useful materials during a shortage—how is that a problem?"

  "No problem at all in the short term," Shiren acknowledged smoothly. "Quite innovative, really. But innovations often have unintended consequences. Today it's reclaiming waste materials. Tomorrow..." He shrugged elegantly. "Who knows what other traditional systems might be deemed... unnecessary?"

  Before Malcolm could respond, Shiren continued, his tone shifting to something almost friendly. "Your talents are impressive, Sinclair. They could be quite valuable if properly directed. We should discuss potential collaborations sometime—perhaps after the current situation normalizes."

  With a shallow bow that somehow managed to be both formally correct and subtly condescending, Shiren turned and walked away, leaving Malcolm to puzzle over the strange interaction. It had felt less like a threat and more like... an assessment. As if Shiren were evaluating whether Malcolm represented a problem to be eliminated or a resource to be utilized.

  "I see you've met our aspiring politician," Sorha's voice came from behind him. She appeared from the shadows between stalls, her approach as silent as always.

  "What was that about?" Malcolm asked, gesturing in the direction Shiren had gone.

  "Valus family has significant investments in the official supply chains," Sorha explained, helping Malcolm pack his remaining items. "Your little reclamation operation potentially undermines their profit margin if it were to become a permanent alternative."

  "It's just a temporary solution for the shortage," Malcolm protested.

  Sorha gave him a knowing look. "Is it? Because from what I observed tonight, your reclaimed materials outperform standard supplies in several key metrics. If students begin to prefer your products over official channels..."

  Malcolm hadn't considered this angle. He'd been so focused on demonstrating the legitimacy of his methods that he hadn't thought about the economic implications if his reclamation program expanded.

  "So Shiren was what—warning me off?"

  "More likely assessing whether to oppose you or co-opt you," Sorha replied with a shrug. "The Valus approach to problems is very practical—eliminate what cannot be controlled, control what cannot be eliminated."

  "Great," Malcolm muttered, shouldering his now-bulging satchel. "Another complication."

  "Success often brings them," Sorha observed philosophically. "But you've achieved something significant tonight. Half the Academy is talking about your reclaimed materials and their exceptional quality. Even those who remain skeptical of your theoretical framework cannot deny the practical results."

  That had been the goal, Malcolm reminded himself. Demonstrate the value of his approach through practical benefits that even traditionalists couldn't dismiss. If that attracted attention—both positive and negative—it was a sign of success, not failure.

  "I need to process more materials before tomorrow's practical class," he said, already mentally planning his next steps. "With what I've acquired tonight, I can create demonstration-grade samples for at least three different formulations."

  "Don't forget to sleep," Sorha advised with a hint of a smile. "Even innovative geniuses require rest occasionally."

  The next morning, Malcolm arrived at Professor Liko's practical alchemy class with renewed confidence. His satchel contained carefully prepared components for his midterm project—some acquired through trades at the Exchange, others processed through his void pool overnight. He'd worked late into the night, extracting essences and refining materials, but the results were worth the lost sleep.

  The classroom buzzed with unusual energy. Students huddled in small groups, comparing supplies and discussing modified formulation approaches to accommodate the material shortage. Several glanced up as Malcolm entered, their expressions ranging from curiosity to calculated interest.

  "Sinclair-san," Professor Liko greeted him with her usual crisp formality. "I trust you have made appropriate adjustments to your project plans given the current material limitations?"

  "Yes, Professor," Malcolm replied, setting his satchel on his assigned workstation. "I've acquired alternative components that should meet the project requirements."

  Her eyebrow raised slightly. "Indeed? The supply office reported severe restrictions on key materials required for the standard healing compound."

  "I used reclaimed materials," Malcolm explained, removing neatly labeled vials from his satchel. "Processed through specialized extraction techniques to achieve required purity levels."

  Professor Liko studied the arranged components with obvious skepticism. She selected a vial of silverleaf essence, holding it to the light to examine its clarity. "This appears to exceed standard grade in concentration," she observed, her tone suggesting she wasn't sure whether to be impressed or suspicious.

  "Absorptive Nexus extraction allows for complete essence isolation," Malcolm said, falling back on his established explanation. "The process preserves potency while eliminating impurities."

  "So I have heard," she replied, her tone making it clear what she thought of such claims. "Your midterm evaluation will, of course, include full quality assessment along with process documentation review."

  "Of course," Malcolm agreed, confident in his preparation. He had followed every procedural requirement, even the ones that seemed needlessly complicated.

  As Professor Liko moved on to inspect other students' preparations, Malcolm noticed the changed dynamics in the classroom. Several students who had rarely acknowledged him before now watched with obvious interest as he arranged his materials. A few who had traded with him at the Exchange gave subtle nods of recognition.

  Mei, the wealthy first-year who had been openly dismissive of him in the past, approached his workstation with an expression of reluctant respect.

  "Your materials at the Exchange were... surprisingly adequate," she said in what, for her, counted as high praise. "The mountain sage essence in particular demonstrated acceptable purity levels."

  "Thanks, I guess," Malcolm replied, hiding his amusement at her backhanded compliment.

  "My project group still requires certain specialized catalysts," she continued, her tone deliberately casual. "If your... reclamation techniques can process damaged catalyst stones, we might consider a trade arrangement."

  Malcolm blinked in surprise. Mei was from one of the wealthiest families at the Academy—for her to propose a trade rather than simply buying what she needed represented a significant shift.

  "I'm still experimenting with crystalline materials," he said carefully, "but I'd be willing to try. Bring some samples to my reclamation station this afternoon, and we can see what's possible."

  She nodded, her usual haughtiness somewhat tempered by necessity. "Acceptable. I shall document the quality assessment protocols, of course."

  "I wouldn't expect anything less," Malcolm replied, failing to completely hide his smile.

  As Mei returned to her workstation, Malcolm caught Jirou watching the interaction with interest. The studious boy had been documenting everything in his meticulous notes, as usual, but there was something new in his expression—a speculative curiosity that went beyond his normal academic detachment.

  When the class began formal work on their projects, Malcolm found himself in unfamiliar territory—students actually asking his advice rather than dismissing his methods. His practical approach to material preparation, once considered crude by Kagetsu standards, was now seen as adaptive in the face of supply limitations.

  "The essence concentration factors require adjustment when using reclaimed materials," he explained to a small group that had gathered around his workstation during a break. "The purity level is higher than standard grade, so you need to reduce the quantity by about fifteen percent to maintain proper balance."

  "This contradicts Matari's Third Principle of Proportional Harmony," one student objected, though his tone was curious rather than dismissive.

  "Traditional principles assume traditional materials," Malcolm replied with a shrug. "Different source quality, different proportions. The result is what matters, right?"

  This pragmatic approach—focusing on results rather than rigid adherence to established formulas—had been considered almost heretical when he first arrived. Now, faced with material shortages, even the most traditional students were beginning to see its merit.

  By the end of the class, Malcolm had completed his midterm project preparation with materials that not only met but exceeded the original requirements. Professor Liko, examining his formulation, seemed torn between her instinctive skepticism of his methods and the undeniable quality of his results.

  "Your approach remains unorthodox, Sinclair-san," she said finally, making notations on her evaluation scroll. "But under current circumstances, adaptability has certain... practical advantages." Coming from her, this was nearly effusive praise.

  As students packed up their materials, Malcolm noticed Riven Tairo observing from the doorway. The tall third-year had been assigned to document Malcolm's academic progress as part of his conditional status requirements, and his reports went directly to both Master Seiran and Grandmaster Kaiven.

  "Your material reclamation program appears to have found timely application," Riven noted as Malcolm approached the door. "Several instructors have commented on the quality of your extracted essences."

  "Just making myself useful," Malcolm replied casually, though he couldn't help feeling pleased at the recognition.

  "Indeed." Riven's expression gave away nothing, but his next words carried unexpected weight. "Master Seiran has requested a formal assessment of your reclamation methodology for potential scaled implementation."

  Malcolm nearly stumbled in surprise. "Scaled implementation? You mean—"

  "A formalized program under Academy oversight," Riven confirmed. "The current supply disruption has highlighted certain... inefficiencies in resource utilization. Your approach offers potential solutions worth evaluating on a larger scale."

  This was beyond anything Malcolm had hoped for. Not just tolerance for his methods, but actual institutional interest in expanding them. The supply shortage had created an opportunity he couldn't have engineered deliberately—a chance to demonstrate his approach's practical value in a way that even traditionalists couldn't easily dismiss.

  "I'd be happy to provide any documentation needed," Malcolm said, trying to maintain a professional tone despite his excitement.

  "Comprehensive process records. Comparative quality analyses. Material source tracking." Riven listed the requirements with his usual precision. "I will assist with the proper formatting to ensure compliance with Academy standards."

  As they parted ways, Malcolm felt a surge of vindication. For weeks, he'd been trying to find a balance between developing his void pool abilities and navigating the Academy's rigid traditions. Now, ironically, a supply chain crisis had created the perfect opportunity to bring his methods into the mainstream.

  He still faced challenges—Shiren's veiled warnings, continuing skepticism from traditionalists, the constant need to explain his results without revealing the void pool's true nature. But for the first time since arriving at Enshin, Malcolm felt like he might actually belong here—not despite his differences, but because of them.

  His void pool was no longer just a strange anomaly to be hidden and defended. It was becoming a valuable tool with practical applications that served the Academy's interests. And in the tradition-bound world of Enshin, that was the most powerful validation of all.

  As he headed back to his reclamation station, Malcolm's mind was already racing with possibilities. If the supply issues continued—and according to Elder Mozu, the mountain passes wouldn't clear for at least another two weeks—he could establish his reclamation process as a legitimate alternative, not just a temporary fix.

  "Find value where others see waste," his dad had always said, usually while elbow-deep in what other merchants had discarded. That philosophy had built their family business in Redoak. Now, halfway around the world and surrounded by traditions older than his entire homeland, it was the same principle carving out Malcolm's place at Enshin.

  Sometimes, he thought with a grin, the best way to fit into a new world was to bring a little of your old one with you—especially when that old world knew a thing or two about making something from nothing.