I Loaded the Mysticism Panel

By late November, Brighton was changing its clothes.

The dreary, gray shops along the streets began stuffing things into their display windows.

The department store branch built a fake snow mountain inside with cotton balls.

A Christmas tree wrapped in tin foil was stuck on top, with discounted gloves and scarves arranged beneath it.

The butcher shop hung two plucked turkeys by its entrance, their wingtips pointing skyward and heads dangling, looking quite reluctant.

A circle of holly branches was wound around the public telephone booth, though no one knew who had done it.

The holly’s red berries looked quite fitting against the red paint. Passersby would occasionally spare it a glance before hunching their necks against the cold and hurrying on.

The coal smoke remained, the factory whistles remained, and the river’s stench remained.

But a subtle sense of anticipation had been added to the air.

The old woman selling hot pies had moved her stall from the street corner to right beside the main entrance of the post office, where foot traffic was heavier.

She hung a handwritten cardboard sign on the side of her cart: Christmas Special Meat Pies, Two Pence Apiece.

The price was double the usual, but the filling, now with added cinnamon and cloves, truly was a different thing altogether.

At Greenwood’s campus, the Christmas spirit arrived even earlier.

Discipline in the classrooms had clearly loosened. Students in the back rows were dozing off or passing notes... In any case, no one was in the mood to study.

A few boys had already started writing Christmas gift lists in their textbooks, their handwriting wild and flamboyant, accompanied by stick-figure drawings of various sneakers.

Even Grey brought up her family’s Christmas decoration plans during lunch.

Her mother was planning to have a real fir tree shipped in from the countryside to put in their living room. It would be tall enough to reach the ceiling and decorated with real candles.

Warren scoffed after hearing this. ”Real candles? Isn’t your family afraid of a fire?”

”The candles will only be lit on Christmas Eve,” Grey said, placing her spoon on the edge of her plate. ”Besides, we’ll have buckets of water ready.”

”Is it still romantic if you have buckets of water on standby?”

”You have to be alive to see a second Christmas.”

Warren opened his mouth, but found he had no rebuttal.

Hugh, who had been quietly chewing on some bread nearby, suddenly looked up and asked, ”What do you all eat for Christmas?”

”Turkey,” Warren said.

”What do you have with the turkey?”

”Mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, pudding...”

Hearing this, Hugh’s chewing slowed, and his gaze began to unfocus.

Richard held his teacup, not participating in the Christmas conversation.

His attention had already drifted back to the desk in his bedroom.

Every night, after the rest of his family was asleep, the desk lamp in his bedroom would switch on right on schedule.

The orange light would spread in a circle across the desktop, illuminating several items placed side by side.

The Gargoyle, the Ancient Greek language comparison chart from Mr. Hutton, and the notebook he had brought back from the Imperial University Library.

The lights in the living room downstairs had long been extinguished. His father’s snores drifted up through two floors, and the sound of breathing from Evelyn’s room was even and steady.

The Gargoyle crouched on the corner of the desk, its great mouth agape, its wings half-pressed against its back.

He had already chewed through most of the first two sets of inscriptions over the past few weeks.

The Ancient Greek language comparison chart from Mr. Hutton solved the problem of substitution, while the rest—the grammatical deductions—he had to grind through with the help of his [Scholarship Lv.2] skill.

Progress was slow, but he was inching forward every day.

He had classified the contents of the first two sets of inscriptions as the ”Pedestal Inscriptions.”

Functionally, they were like a preface, introducing the Gargoyle’s era of creation, the creator’s identity, and an explanation of the inscriptions’ overall purpose.

The first set of inscriptions was the prologue to the Pedestal Inscriptions.

Once translated, the content was as follows:

”This vessel was created by order of the Western Continent’s Inscription Master Guild, crafted by Inscription Master G.T.

The four-sided inscriptions separately record the Technique’s origin, incantation, operation, and annotations. When combined as one, they are known as ’Stone Armor’.”

The object had been forged approximately four hundred and sixty years ago.

Back then, the Albion Imperial had not yet established a constitution. The various guilds possessed autonomous power independent of the monarchy, and the Inscription Master Guild was the most secretive and ancient among them.

The second set of inscriptions was the origin section of the Pedestal Inscriptions.

”Stone Armor originates from the protective prayers of stonemasons.”

”Stonemasons toil for years at great heights, climbing church spires and repairing the flying buttresses of bell towers. Falls and falling debris are the most common causes of death.”

”This Technique uses touching the Gargoyle as its catalyst and one’s own Ether as its material.

It condenses a thin, dense shell of Ether on the skin’s surface, harder than stone. The duration depends on one’s Tier and Ether reserves.”

After reading this passage, Richard set down his pencil and leaned back in his chair.

’The purpose of this Secret Technique is already quite clear.’

’It’s just a general-purpose defensive Secret Technique, nothing more.’

’No wonder Grandfather said my aunt wasn’t too fond of the Gargoyle.’

But for a Newcomer like Richard, who had been initiated for less than half a year and had no means of self-defense, this thing was a godsend.

The Fog Wall Technique could only confuse ordinary people, and Ashen Grass was a consumable—every piece used was a piece gone forever.

He still hadn’t bought his service weapon as a Trainee Inspector. Even if he had, its use would be restricted depending on the situation and location.

But Stone Armor was a layer of protection that clung to the skin. It took up no space, couldn’t be found during a search, and required no ammunition.

He turned to a new page in his notebook and continued to chew on the third set of inscriptions.

He had returned from the Imperial Capital around the last week of October.

He had been able to recognize a few scattered symbols in the first two sets, but the last two were completely incomprehensible.

That was until Mr. Hutton gave him the new Ancient Greek language comparison chart. Once he had a direction, he had a foothold.

The third set of inscriptions contained the Technique’s incantation and operation.

The Casting process was divided into three tiers.

Tier One: Touching and Leading.

Touch the surface of the Gargoyle with both hands, maintaining contact for at least three full breaths.

During this process, one must ”shake hands” with the Gargoyle.

The Gargoyle is both the key and the mold.

For a beginner, Touching and Leading is a rigid prerequisite for Casting; without the Gargoyle, the Technique cannot be activated.

Only after becoming proficient can one separate from the Casting Medium and activate the Covering Armor independently.

’In other words, this crutch is only necessary for a novice.’

Once he practiced to a proficient level, the Gargoyle could be put away in a drawer to gather dust.

But before then, the Gargoyle had to be kept within arm’s reach.

Tier Two: Inference.

After Touching and Leading is complete, the Cultivator pushes a large amount of Ether to the surface of their skin.

Different Breathing Techniques will result in different manifestations when the Covering Armor crystallizes.

Richard focused on the parameters for the Golden Path.

Of course, the skin does not actually turn to stone after Inference.

An Ether shell, nearly invisible to the naked eye, forms on the outside of the skin.

Tier Three: Maintenance.

For a Newcomer, a single Casting of the Covering Armor lasts less than half a minute.

To cast it again, one must touch the Gargoyle to perform Touching and Leading once more.

Richard put his pencil down and glanced at the Gargoyle.

It crouched on the corner of his desk, its great mouth agape.

’It’s a bit menacing, sure, but it’s also way too heavy.’

The sooner he mastered the Technique, the sooner he could rid himself of this heavy crutch.

The inscription’s description of its protective effect stated its hardness could withstand ”direct stabs from bladed weapons and strikes from blunt instruments.”

However, the inscription made no mention of firearms.

He reckoned that if faced with a bullet, the thickness and hardness of this Covering Armor probably wouldn’t be enough.

At the end of the third set of inscriptions, there was a supplementary note about localized reinforcement.

Richard did some quick math.

If he concentrated the same total amount of Ether to cover a single fist, the thickness, hardness, and duration would all be greatly enhanced.

He suddenly thought of a use for it.

’Apply all the Covering Armor to my fist, then punch.’

’With such a small impact surface, combined with the hardness and mass of the armor itself, breaking through a thin brick wall probably wouldn’t be a problem.’

The inscriptions did indeed mention a tactical record that he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at:

”Stonemasons often leap from great heights, striking their opponents with heads and foreheads reinforced by the Covering Armor.”

This method of attack inexplicably reminded him of a certain palm technique that descended from the heavens.