After asking Hawke for half a day off at the Blacksmith Shop, Roland hurried to the remote wooden cabin.

The cabin’s door was ajar. He called out once before pushing it open, and the sight before him made his heart tighten. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Bronson was leaning weakly against the wooden bed, his already gaunt frame appearing even more fragile.

His hair was disheveled, his beard unkempt, and his cheeks were smudged with several black, soot-like streaks.

The robe he usually wore was now tattered, covered with fine scratches, and dotted with a few small holes that looked as if they had been burned by sparks.

To Roland’s relief, however, Bronson had no bloodstains or obvious wounds.

Despite his haggard appearance, the scholar’s eyes held a fanatical gleam.

He was focused on the Dagger in his hand—the very one Roland had forged—and was muttering to himself.

"Mr. Bronson?"

"Roland?"

Hearing his name, Bronson finally tore his gaze from the Dagger.

Upon recognizing Roland’s clean-cut features, he shot up from the wooden bed in excitement.

"Roland! Our previous theory was right after all, Mag—"

"Shh!"

Roland quickly pressed a finger to his lips, cutting Bronson off before he could finish.

He then darted to the door and cautiously scanned the surroundings. Once certain no one was eavesdropping, he slowly shut the door and walked back to Bronson.

"Mr. Bronson..."

Looking at the overly excited scholar before him, Roland resignedly lowered his voice.

"If you don’t want to be mistaken for a madman, lose the Baron’s patronage, and get kicked out of the manor, you’d best keep your voice down when discussing Magic..."

"Ah! Right, right..."

At these words, Bronson seemed to remember something. His expression faltered for a moment before he nodded, hunching his back and dropping his voice to a whisper.

"But Roland, the Magic Elements on the continent are truly, slowly reawakening! Look at this..."

Even though he deliberately kept his voice down, his irrepressible excitement was still evident in its trembling.

He held out the strangely-shaped Dagger to Roland as if presenting a priceless treasure.

The moment the Dagger drew near, that familiar, strange sensation washed over him again—the feeling that he could perceive the very emotions of a Flame.

Roland narrowed his eyes, examining it closely.

Overall, the Dagger hadn’t changed much from when he first gave it to Bronson.

The only difference was that the central cylinder was now covered in a web of fine cracks, and the intricate patterns within were emitting a strange, faint, blood-red glow.

"I succeeded in harvesting the Fire Element!"

"Harvested... the Fire Element?"

Roland frowned slightly.

Lacking the relevant knowledge, he couldn’t fully grasp how difficult this feat was.

But judging from the fanatical gleam in Bronson’s eyes, this was by no means a simple matter.

"That’s right! Watch this!"

Bronson couldn’t wait to demonstrate.

He carefully touched the tip of the Dagger to the smooth tabletop.

The instant the tip of the blade touched the wood, the hard tabletop began to sink in slowly, like a hot knife through butter.

Wisps of smoke curled into the air, leaving behind a thumb-sized, scorched hole in the desk, its edges still glowing with dark red embers.

Simultaneously, the red glow from the intricate patterns on the Dagger dimmed a little.

While Roland was still reeling in shock from the strange phenomenon, Bronson was already launching into an excited tirade.

"Did you know, Roland? Even before the Era of the End, Wizards had to use a unique method to draw Elements from the air. They would activate the Runes imprinted in their Deep Sea of Consciousness to cast Magic. But no matter which Element they used, not a single trace would remain in their body after Casting..."

"And I!"

Bronson raised the Dagger high, his voice rising uncontrollably, his eyes glinting with an almost fanatical light.

"I have created Spell Patterns capable of storing Magic Elements! This is an absolute, era-defining breakthrough!"

"Mr. Bronson..."

Roland didn’t want to rain on his parade, but he felt it was necessary to get the frenzied scholar to calm down.

"According to the principles of Casting you mentioned, even if these patterns can store Magic Elements, wouldn’t they just dissipate after Casting? And besides..."

He took out the red Crystal Stone he always kept close to his person.

"Isn’t this kind of crystal—which is just solidified Magic Elements—also a form of storage?"

"Completely different!"

To his surprise, the question only made Bronson even more excited.

"According to ancient records, these crystals of solidified Magic Elements only exist inside Demons. They can’t be artificially created at all!"

"And when a Wizard is Casting, they need to expend a large amount of Spiritual Power to filter out the unnecessary, impure elements from the air."

"But my Spell Patterns already filter out the unnecessary Magic Elements during the absorption process. That means you can draw directly upon the Magic Elements stored inside without expending any Spiritual Power!"

At this point, Roland was starting to understand.

The Spell Patterns Bronson was researching were like a power bank with a built-in filter. It could purify the mix of various Elements from the air, refining them into a single Attribute to be stored. When Casting, one could then draw upon the pure Magic Elements directly, completely bypassing the step that consumed Spiritual Power.

If that was the case, it truly was a groundbreaking study.

As he was lost in thought, Bronson’s excited voice snapped him out of it.

"Watch closely, Roland..."

As he spoke, the increasingly manic scholar gripped the Dagger in his right hand, holding his arm out flat and extending his index finger.

The next moment, a knuckle-sized ball of fire suddenly appeared out of thin air, slowly coalescing at his fingertip.