But the real work?
That happened in the stillness of the night.
The System pulsed in his mind, a silent observer as he sat at his desk, his fingers running over the surface of his twin daggers. The steel was unremarkable to the naked eye—no ornate engravings, no lavish decorations—just simple, functional weapons meant for silent precision.
But that was about to change.
He took a measured breath, then summoned the Eternal Grimoire.
The phantom tome materialized before him, it's dark cover lined with blue inscriptions that pulsed like a heartbeat, linked directly to the Chronicle within his soul.
First, the daggers.
Silas activated Engraved Echo, the ability flowing through him like an unseen current. As he held the blade steady, glowing runes and inscriptions began to carve themselves into the steel—not with hammer and chisel, but with something deeper, something more arcane.
Edge Flicker… for sharper, deadlier strikes.
Blur Trace… to ensure each attack left no trace behind.
The first set of arcane etchings glowed a faint blue-green, then faded seamlessly into the metal, as though they had always been a part of the blade.
He gave one dagger a test swing.
A faint shimmer followed the motion—a whisper of something far too sharp, too precise. He barely needed to exert force; the steel felt weightless, the edge unnaturally keen.
Satisfied, he repeated the process for the second dagger, embedding the same abilities before finally placing them on the table.
Now, I don’t need to activate Edge Flicker manually from the Grimoire. The daggers will always carry its effect.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Progress.
But he wasn’t done yet.
Silas reached for his dark coat and mask, the disguise he wore when stepping into the world’s shadows.
The material was worn, but durable, stitched together with practicality in mind. And now? It would be something more.
Gravemark Resilience… to reinforce the fabric against strikes and blunt force.
Blur Trace… to ensure the engravings remained undetectable.
The moment he began engraving, the fabric responded, as if absorbing the arcane power. The coat didn’t change outwardly, but when he ran his fingers over it, there was a noticeable difference—a subtle tension, a hidden resilience that hadn’t been there before.
The mask, too, was enhanced, now more than just a symbol of anonymity.
No more being tracked so easily.
And then, he turned to his daily attire—his ragged suit, the one he wore to the Gazette, the one that made him look like just another struggling worker in the Outer City.
The same defenses.
Now, even his everyday clothing was a layer of protection.
Lastly, the boots. The most vital piece.
In a world where speed could mean the difference between life and death, where hesitation could kill, he needed more than just protection. He needed movement.
Gravemark Resilience—to fortify the material, reinforcing every fiber.
Gale Rush—to propel him forward in an instant.
Blur Trace—to leave no trace behind.
Three engravings. His current limit.
The moment the final inscription settled, he felt the shift—subtle, but undeniable.
The boots were no longer just leather and stitching, no longer just a pair of worn soles. They had become an extension of him, carrying latent power woven into their very structure, ready to respond at a moment’s notice.
Silas exhaled, clenching his fists as he took in his work.
Every piece of my gear is more than just clothing now.
It’s a weapon. A shield. A tool.
Silas sat in the dim glow of his apartment, the cold morning air creeping through the cracks in the warped wooden walls. His boots were laced, his coat buttoned. His daggers were hidden beneath the layers of fabric.
And yet, one thing still lingered in his mind.
The resignation.
A normal person would have quit by now.
A 2nd Order Wielder didn’t need to spend his mornings running errands for a newspaper, delivering messages and collecting information like a common street rat.
But Silas wasn’t stupid.
He was a hidden 2nd Order Wielder.
And that, more than anything, was what mattered.
The System’s interface pulsed in his mind, a quiet reminder of his progress. He exhaled slowly, then checked his current accumulation.
[Causal Points: 10,123 P]
His lips curled slightly.
Good. The points are stacking faster than expected.
The system had proven itself time and time again, and he had no intention of wasting its potential. His last ability extractions had reshaped his combat approach, and now it was time to refine it further.
He already had Edge Flicker, a sublimated ability from the Steelshroud Chronicle that had turned his daggers into flickering phantoms of steel, striking faster than the eye could follow. It had been one of his most effective tools—a seamless blend of lethality and precision.
If one ability from Steelshroud had been that useful…
Then what about the other?
The answer was obvious.
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[Extracting 2nd Sublimation Ability: Steelshroud Chronicle – 200 Causal Points Consumed.]
A familiar sensation washed over him—a pull, a shift, an unraveling of hidden knowledge that wove itself into his mind like threads of iron.
The moment comprehension settled, he understood.
[Ironbound Reflex – Steelshroud Chronicle]
A reactive enhancement—but far more than just that. It was a passive ability.
His muscles, his very skin, would instinctively harden like tempered steel the instant he was struck—or about to be. The effect was instantaneous, a rapid shift between flesh and unyielding resilience, allowing him to absorb incoming force without slowing his movements.
It was a perfect counter to sudden attacks.
A blade meant to pierce his ribs? It would glance off hardened flesh.
A club swinging for the back of his head? His skull would turn momentarily unbreakable.
Even a sniper’s bullet, if fired at the right angle, could be mitigated before it truly struck home.
It was not permanent, nor was it something he could manually activate.
It was instinct. A defensive mechanism woven into his very being.
And more importantly—it complemented Edge Flicker seamlessly.
Attack and defense in harmony.
Blades that flicker like ghosts, striking before they can be seen.
A body that turns to steel when touched by an enemy’s blade.
Silas flexed his fingers, his knuckles tightening into a slow, deliberate fist. He could already feel it, the sensation of strength coiled beneath his skin, waiting to be triggered.
He leaned back in his chair, the candlelight catching against the silver edge of his daggers lying on the table. The room was silent, save for the distant howl of the wind through the city’s broken alleys.
His gaze dropped to the System interface.
[Ability Successfully Comprehended.]
[Ironbound Reflex: Integrated in Eternal Grimoire.]
The Ironbound Reflex ability had been a revelation—the perfect counterbalance to his existing skills.
It only made sense to take the next step.
His fingers drummed against the wooden desk as he issued his next command.
[Extract 2nd Order Chronicle of Steelshroud Chronicle]
The System pulsed. Then—
[Extraction Failed.]
Silas’s brow furrowed. That was unexpected.
He leaned forward slightly, waiting for the explanation.
[Steelshroud does not possess a 2nd Order Evolution.]
Silas blinked. "What?"
The response continued.
[Certain 1st Order Chronicles, when given strong names such as ‘Steelshroud,’ ‘Hushwarden,’ or ‘Brassguard,’ are formed with rigid, complex Oaths. This results in increased sublimation difficulty and, in most cases, an inability to evolve into a 2nd Order Chronicle.]
Silas’s heartbeat slowed. He read the words again, then again.
No 2nd Order? That’s…
It didn’t make sense—until it did.
Steelshroud. Hushwarden. Brassguard.
These Chronicles —ones that exuded power just from their names—belonged to Wielders who were always formidable within their Order, sometimes to an overwhelming degree. Yet, despite their strength, they never advanced.
They stayed in the 1st Order. Some even disappeared from the ranks of Wielders entirely.
Because they had reached their limit.
A Chronicle’s name defines its existence. The stronger and more complex it is, the heavier the Oath that binds it. And the heavier the Oath…
…the harder it is to break free and ascend.
Silas sat back in his chair, exhaling sharply.
He had never thought about it before, but it explained so much.
There had been a time, back when he was still 1st Order, that he had felt a sting of envy.
Why did I get a Chronicle called ‘Occultist’ while others had something as grand as ‘Steelshroud’?
Why was mine so… simple?
Now he knew.
He had dodged a bullet.
If he had been given something like Steelshroud, no matter how strong it was in its rank, he would have eventually hit a ceiling.
The realization left him cold.
He leaned forward again, staring at the interface, thinking.
Steelshroud might not have a path forward, but it was still a powerful Chronicle within its Order. The same went for Hushwarden, Brassguard, and all the others like it.
They weren’t worthless—not at all.
They’re perfect for Arcane Codex.
Unlike other Wielders, Silas had no reason to worry about promotion for them. He wasn’t looking to advance them, to push them beyond their limits.
All he needed was their power.
He could store these high-tier 1st Order Chronicles within his Eternal Grimoire, granting himself their abilities without the restrictions of their Oaths.
Power without the chains.
Silas closed his eyes for a moment, letting the thought settle.
When he opened them again, he was smiling.
I might not have the strongest-sounding Chronicle…
But I have something better.
Control.
Silas exhaled slowly, steadying his thoughts. He thought back to his priorities—three goals now stood before him.
First, learn more abilities—expand his arsenal, sharpen his edge.
Second, attend the secret gathering in two days. Information flowed in the shadows, and he needed every advantage he could get.
Third—uncover the truth behind his parents' deaths.
That last goal lingered, heavier than the rest, pressing against his ribs like a weight he couldn’t shake.
With a slow exhale, he checked his Causal Points.
[Causal Points: 9,923 P]
Enough for something substantial.
He needed two 2nd Order abilities—one for agility, to refine his movement in both combat and evasion, and another for pure battle efficiency.
Silas issued the command.
[Extracting abilities and Comprehension: 8,800 Causal Points Consumed.]
A wave of data and sensation flooded his mind, as if pieces of forgotten knowledge were slotting into place. The moment the process was complete, he analyzed what he had gained.
Resolute March (Ironmarshal Chronicle)
- The wielder can continue fighting at full efficiency, even when injured or exhausted.
- Pain tolerance is heightened during active battle.
- The ability doesn’t negate damage, but it allows the user to push through wounds that would normally cripple someone.
Silas clenched his fist. This was exactly what he needed.
Too often, fights were dictated by who could last longer. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he was untouchable—eventually, someone would land a hit.
Pain won’t stop me. Fatigue won’t slow me. I’ll keep moving until the fight is over.
The second ability took on a different form—one that catered to his stealth and unpredictability.
Blindside Weave (Shadowcourier Chronicle)
- Enhances the wielder’s ability to exploit blind spots, making them harder to track in battle.
- Evasion becomes instinctive, allowing the user to slip past enemies unnoticed.
- Works best in low visibility environments, but can still be used effectively in direct combat to make opponents lose their focus on the wielder.
As dawn broke over Evergarde, Silas woke early, stretching as he checked the updated status report flashing in his mind.
[Status Report]
Name: Silas Crowell
Age: 16
Chronicle: Arcane Codex (2nd Order) – Level 3/20
Abilities:
- Eternal Grimoire
- Engraved Echo
Attributes:
- Body: 20.4 / 30
- Spirit: 24.3 / 30
Eternal Grimoire Stored Abilities:
- 1st Order: Gravemark Resilience, Ironthread Vitality, Silent Steps, Blur Trace, Edge Flicker, Gale Rush, Sleight of Hand, Silent Entry, Cat’s Balance, Ironbound Reflex (Passive)
- 2nd Order: Veilguard (Passive), Resolute March, Blindside Weave
Causal Points: 1,123 P
Silas’s eyebrow twitched.
His abilities had grown. His Chronicle had reached Level 3, unlocking a crucial advantage—he could now keep two abilities as passive within his Eternal Grimoire. After careful thought, he had chosen Ironbound Reflex. A single moment could decide life or death, and as long as he lived, there was hope.
But his Causal Points had plummeted.
A deep exhale escaped him as he rubbed his temples.
Back to square one with points, huh?
It was a necessary expense, but it still left him feeling a little hollow.
If I want to keep growing, I need more ways to accumulate Causal Points.
His current method—triggering events—was working. But it wasn’t fast enough.