I took a final look around the half-destroyed inn, which had become my unofficial home since arriving in the border town. It had taken me days to clear out the debris, find an intact spot on the floor, and carefully prepare it for my needs, and days more to finish my work. Finally, I was ready to begin.

A massive circle sat in the center of the floor. I had carefully drawn it using charcoal from the guard's campfires, then painstakingly carved it out with my knife. That alone would have taken me most of a day, even with a simple design, but this was no ordinary magical array, and it deserved inordinate focus.

The entire design consisted of six circles divided into three pairings, with a space between each pair within which I carved runes to guide the magical effects.

The outermost ring was about eight feet in diameter and was the simplest of the three. I had carved symbols of attracting and gathering, focusing my intent on drawing in as much Aether as possible. This was a concept I had seen in books, heard about from instructors, and experimented with myself in the past, and the idea was simple but effective. After all, all it had to do was pull in more mana, which it should do very well.

The second ring, six feet across, had a narrower effect. I had chosen words that represented ideas of condensing, focusing, and holding, along with markings that would represent Aether as an element. This was a more complex circle, but it should work with the first to further increase mana density while excluding non-Aether elements.

I had tested a variety of runes before settling on this particular choice. Intent mattered, and even a minor change in symbols introduced distinctions that altered the final magical effect. It was a degree of complexity that I found simultaneously fascinating and irritating.

These two rings formed a magical circle I had first designed to speed my mana gathering. It was a standard enough design that I had never tested, and likely never would. I had already modified it, but such was the way of magic. Refinement was a never-ending process.

Then again, this seemed as good a test as any. If a more complex variation worked, shouldn't the simpler version?

I walked around the circle, triple-checking it for any noticeable flaws. When I found none, I nodded once and stepped into the center of the innermost ring. I sat down, closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths to center my mind. Then, I reached out with my mana.

Activating a magical circle was the easiest step. All I had to do was push mana into it, and the effects should trigger. I had carved the rings without a substrate, which would inhibit efficiency and all but ensure it would break down after just one use. While I didn't need it to last long, that meant any testing was out of the question.

I sat there and gave myself one moment to second-guess my choices. Then, I willed the outermost circle to life.

Aether roiled around my body as the ring began pulling in energy. I felt it swirl around my body, forming a diffuse cloud of power that shimmered in my mind's eye and tingled against my skin. The density grew moment after moment, not as fast as I'd prefer but remarkably quickly regardless.

I wondered for a moment how strong I might have grown if I had such a circle at the start of my training, then set aside that consideration as I activated the second ring.

Instantly, the mana density began to build. The tingling against my skin became an almost unpleasant itching sensation, and the sensation of power grew. Soon, the "glare" of Aether within my senses was blinding, and I pushed past those distractions before diving inward into my core.

The drake was too dangerous for a Mist. Hell, it might even be too much for a Fog. I needed more power, and I couldn't afford to take the slow, gradual path. I had to seize strength, no matter the risks or the cost.

My core resolved in my mind's eye as a swirling mass of green-in-green. I could sense the strength of my Mist tier mana, but that didn't draw my focus. Instead, I sought out the Aether gifted to me by my counterpart from the future. It still sat there, an untapped jewel of incandescent strength.

And I knew what to do with it.

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Mana attracted mana, and this phenomenon only grew stronger at higher densities. It was why more advanced mages recovered more quickly when they expended their reserves, and why they could pull in more mana when they meditated than a less powerful practitioner. Higher ranks required more energy before they could condense, but in terms of sheer volume, a liquid mage would always pull in more than a gaseous one.

I had come up with a hundred ways to exploit this natural tendency, many drawn from my research. Hell, I had even come up with a few plans to test some of my ideas, but none would be viable for months to come.

But examining Fortunatus had given me a new one. If mana attracted mana, could I use that principle to speed my gathering? And if so, what would be a better catalyst than liquid-density Aether? It was a simple enough idea and, as luck would have it, I didn't have to look far to find viable mana.

Of course, there were dangers. My counterpart had openly warned me that Ocean density mana was too strong for most mages. It would strain and injure many, and outright kill many more. I doubted I could handle a large volume of the energy for long, but I'd spent months painstakingly strengthening my vessels. That, coupled with my experience in Aresford, should let me withstand the strain, at least for long enough.

I reached out to my core, running my mental gaze along the shell. My time spent studying the barrier and my training at the Everforge had given me a new appreciation for the craftsmanship. The construct was remarkably stable. It was almost indelible, like a piece of reality made manifest rather than a fleeting creation of raw Aether. I had assumed my counterpart's focus on power would have cost him precision, but the control to conjure such a thing was still far beyond me.

It was almost a shame to mar such a masterwork, but I had no choice. I allowed myself one final appreciative look, then stretched out my Aether. My will wrapped around the shell, and I took one final breath to steady myself. Then, I struck.

Aether slammed into the shell like crashing waves. I might as well have thrown my shoulder against a mountain and expected it to move. Hell, trying that might've been a wiser choice.

I almost smiled at the mental image and set aside the distraction as I gathered my power and struck again.

Cracking the shell wasn't complicated, but it was particular. I needed to probe an existing fault, widening it enough that the tiniest flicker of mana would slip out and join with my core. But my Aether wasn't quite up to the task. It was possible, sure, but the only way to do it was through consistent, unrelenting force.

I struck the shell, thinking back to my first year as a mage and the slow, plodding progress I had made. It had been a struggle to improve, and I remembered fighting a monster, facing my death, and growing despite it. I had nearly become a monstrosity myself, and the memory of that experience still came to me in my dreams.

Memories of my duel with Flynn Sion, and the feelings of exultation as my spells worked in concert, came next. I thought back to those quiet days spent honing my magic, and the knowledge that I had crafted them spoke to the prideful voice in my head.

And as I struck again, pushing my will against the weakest points in the shell, I remembered my failures. I thought back on the people I had failed to help, the mistakes I'd made along the way, and the times my efforts had fallen short. If I had been stronger or smarter or better, things might have been different. No, they would have been different.

I considered my plans and my future, and all the lofty hopes I had set out with just a year prior. And I realized that at some point, I had let myself become content with mediocrity. I didn't want to be just a mage. Hell, I didn't want to be an Archmagus.

No, I wanted to be better than that. I had fallen short as an Archmagus once, and resigning myself to that fate felt like defeat by another name. Besides, there had been plenty of Archmagi already.

All at once, something gave.

I felt the moment when the shell broke. It was a tiny crack, barely noticeable even with my mana pressed up against the construct, but it was enough. I sensed the fault in the barrier spread, spiderwebbing a quarter up the sphere before stopping.

For a moment, I basked in success. Then, the storm of two parts hit me.

The first part was the pull of the Aether within the shell. I had thought I could anticipate the full strength of Ocean density mana, but the depths of it stunned me. It drew on the energy around my body, pulling that condensed arcane power into my core with several times the intensity I had come to expect.

The second, far more unnerving feeling, was that Ocean mana falling into my core. I watched as glittering shards and flecks of that condensed power fell from the shell and into my own native Aether.

I had come up with several theories about what might happen when mana of such varying densities combined in a person's body. There were examples to pull from, but none with as stark a difference as the one occurring in my core. My main hypothesis had been that the higher density mana would diffuse to match the lower density energy, swelling its reserves in an instant.

As it turned out, I was wrong and right at the same time.

The instant those shards touched my less dense Aether, my core reverberated like a struck drum. I felt the echoes of that reaction ripple down my channels and spread from my body, even as the mana within me swelled. The pull coming from my center redoubled, and I felt strength flood into me and keep flooding.

I watched as the Ocean density mana broke apart, diffusing into my native energy. In just seconds, I reached my limit. Gaseous Aether licked at the edges of my core like flames, pouring down my channels in waves, and I felt the first hint of pain as the boundaries began to stretch and expand. If left alone, the walls would tear and I would die.

But even as it did this, the remaining fragments began to pull on the Aether already within my core. I sensed the unceasing tug, the gathering power, and realized in an instant what was happening.

My mana was condensing.

Despite the pain, I felt a flicker of excitement shoot through me. This was my gambit, the culmination of my efforts since leaving the Academy and my chance to truly step beyond a typical mage.

I might not have puzzled out permanent physical enhancement despite my best efforts, but I had learned much. The Aether waters in Aresford had shown me how my power interacted with ordinary materials. Studying magical creatures had given me insight into how flesh and mana fused. My time training as a healer had illuminated not just how to repair injuries, but how our bodies worked in general. The Everforge and my training had shown me how binding intent to something, even as you infused it with mana, might impart some greater meaning within the physical.

All of those thoughts and theories flowed through my mind even as the Aether within my body and outside of my flesh roiled and twisted. Pain shot through me even as fresh mana poured into my core, and I pushed past it as I reached out and activated the third ring.

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