***
Transfer Dilemma
Alex woke up, as usual, to the vibrant world of ambient mana.
The prismatic splendour that filled his vision every morning was one of the things he loved most about the Spirit Sight ability granted by his Truth-Seeker eyes.
It was a constant reminder of his goals in this world—a daily dose of motivation.
That awe-inspiring sight was one of the reasons he had chosen the name Truth-Seeker for his ocular mutation.
Whether it was Spirit Sight, Enhanced Vision, or Eidetic Memory—every ability awakened by his eyes seemed to support one singular pursuit: Power.
And according to his father, Earl Drake Fury, power was the ultimate truth of this world. Hence, the name—Truth-Seeker.
Alex couldn't help but feel proud of the name. It was one of his better naming choices. Considering his usual naming sense... well, the less said about it, the better.
He was also confident that the trend would continue. He could instinctively feel that his eyes would awaken even more support abilities in the future.
After completing his morning routine, Alex welcomed Asta, who had just arrived with his meal.
It had been a month and a half since the infamous duel between him and Marcus Hertarian, and Asta had long since returned from her assigned mission.
From the way she was beaming for days afterward, Alex could guess the mission had gone well—and that she had been compensated generously.
As always, Asta was astonished by the sheer amount of food prepared for him. She still hadn't gotten used to how a ten-year-old could eat that much and not explode.
Part of her task was to make sure Alex ate everything, so she sat nearby as he ate and gave him her usual report of gossip, news, and rumours circulating the Enclave and beyond.
"Last month," she began, "Duke Wastelander delayed the celebration of his advancement to the Legendary Rank by nearly a week. Rumour says he sustained injuries after trying to change his class. Apparently, he shifted from a Saint Bulwark Warrior to a Legendary Arcane Knight."
Alex's lips curled into a subtle smirk.
'Wastelander... That should be the head of the family that Helmut belongs to. The same one that tried to scheme against me. And that timeline... It lines up perfectly with when Master went to collect his compensation from the Wastelander family.'
'Don't tell me... the great Duke Wastelander was so terrified of Master Merlin that he switched from a pure defence class to an anti-mage class just to survive? He actually gave up his future growth potential out of fear? Hilarious.'
Asta continued her report while Alex mused to himself.
"Earl Hertarian has requested a ceasefire with Countess Megan Fury. He's officially surrendered the territories he lost during their skirmishes in exchange for peace."
Then, with a playful glint in her eye, Asta leaned closer, the neckline of her blouse offering an intentional view of her budding cleavage. Her voice lowered conspiratorially.
"I heard someone at the inn say the Mad Earl—Earl Drake Fury—sent one of his 'hounds' to pay Hertarian a visit. The Earl called for a truce not long after the hound left."
Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise.
'So you're still watching over me, even after cutting off all contact? What are you, a tsundere?' he nearly chuckled. 'The "Hounds" must be the name of that elite squad of 15 Saint-ranked warriors and Grand Mages under Father's direct command. The one that Jarred is a part of.'
"Do you know why people call Earl Drake Fury the Mad Earl?" Alex asked casually.
"No clue," Asta replied with a shrug. "I heard the Fury family are all crazy. Maybe it's just because he's the only Earl among them, or maybe he's the craziest of them all."
Alex nearly laughed.
From his interactions with her, it was clear Asta had no idea who he truly was. She didn't know he belonged to that infamous family of 'lunatics,' nor that he was the Tower Master's disciple.
She simply assumed he came from a powerful noble family based on the resources being poured into him. As for the specifics, she hadn't bothered to dig deeper.
Alex couldn't decide if it was due to her carelessness, pride, or caution—but since their friendship had nothing to do with backgrounds, he never brought it up. Nor did he ask about her past either.
"Oh, I also heard that some orcs got into a fight with a group of human mages," Asta continued. "Word is, the tension might be linked to some dispute between Grand Warlock Agrut and Grand Mage Rodric. You should be careful. Orcs can get really scary when they're riled up."
"I'll keep that in mind," Alex said, noncommittally.
He knew better.
It wasn't a racial conflict. It was a factional power struggle between Rodric and Agrut. But to the lower-ranked mages and acolytes, it seemed racial—especially since Agrut's faction represented most of the orcs in the Enclave, while Rodric's faction led a large segment of the human population, which made up the majority of the Enclave's inhabitants.
Still, if things got worse, the Tower authorities would have to intervene before the conflict spiralled out of control.
'That's their problem,' Alex thought. 'Not mine.'
Asta shared a few more hot rumours, though most were irrelevant to him. The only noteworthy one was that Helmut Wastelander had left the Tower, officially to attend Duke Wastelander's celebration of reaching the Legendary Rank.
Alex smirked inwardly. 'That's definitely a cover. He was probably summoned home for punishment after his reckless stunt interfered with the Duke's advancement.'
Just as Asta was preparing to leave, Alex finally found an excuse to offer her the wand he'd won from Marcus Hertarian. The wand's appearance had changed significantly.
Alex wasn't stupid enough to give her a wand that was easily identifiable.
"Sorry, I can't accept that," she said, immediately backing away. "I don't want our relationship turning into something where I'm just taking handouts from you."
Alex tilted his head. "Do you consider me a friend?"
"Of course," Asta answered without hesitation.
"Then take it," Alex said firmly. "According to you, things outside are tense right now. I won't be at ease unless I know you have something to protect yourself with."
He held the wand out. "You don't even have to use it as your main weapon. Just keep it as a trump card—for emergencies only."
Then he added the finishing blow: a perfected, fatal, baby-faced pleading expression.
As expected, Asta folded under the pressure of his ultimate weapon.
"Fine. I'll take it," she muttered, defeated.
Before he could tease her, she quickly hugged him and rushed out the door.
Alex had a faint smile as he watched Asta leave.
Then he shuddered slightly and wiped away a non-existent cold sweat.
"I know I'm a kid right now, but I'm also an old soul. Acting like a child still feels unbearably cringy," he muttered. "Well, at least it was for a good cause."
Shaking off the thought, he turned to something far more important.
Alex entered his dorm's specialised Runesmithing lab—his personal Rune-Tech workshop—to check the progress on his project.
Over the past one and a half months, he had successfully inscribed most of the basic runes available from the Enclave's archives into the Rune Compiler. As for intermediate or advanced runes, he hadn't touched them yet.
If he were to compare it to something from his past life, he'd say runes were like language.
Basic runes were equivalent to common, everyday vocabulary—simple and universally used.
Intermediate runes were like native-level expressions, used in more specific or nuanced situations.
Advanced runes? They were specialized jargon—like medical or legal terminology—understood only by experts in the field.
In any case, for now, Alex only needed the "basic conversation" tier to move on to the next step of his Rune-Tech plan: writing a simple, functioning rune-based program to prove runes could be used as a legitimate programming language.
Adding intermediate or advanced runes now would just overcomplicate things.
Not that he could, even if he wanted to.
Just filling in the basic runes had already maxed out the capacity of the Moro Crystal. Thankfully, the Tear of Zan had arrived just in time to solve that problem.
But that opened up a new issue.
Although he could transfer the data from the Moro Crystal to the Tear of Zan by connecting them directly, the process was agonizingly slow.
Going back to his old-world analogy, it was like trying to upload a file using a first-generation computer.
Best case scenario? Five minutes per megabyte.
One gigabyte? More than three days.
To someone who once worked with lightning-fast processors, it was nothing short of digital torture.
Still, it was better than starting from scratch and repeating nearly two months of work.
'This is what I get for taking "ancient" people's words at face value,' Alex thought wryly.
After all, in this world, "fast" meant something very different than it did back on Earth.
He'd been told the transfer was "very fast," which was why he hadn't waited for the Tear of Zan to arrive before starting his work. If he'd known that this world's definition of fast was drastically different from his own, maybe—just maybe—he would've reconsidered.
'No, that's not quite right,' Alex shook his head. 'I wouldn't have been able to sit still and wait anyway.'
The real problem wasn't the current transfer.
It was the fact that he'd likely have to perform many such transfers in the future. And as his work advanced, the volume of data he needed to move would increase significantly. He wasn't comfortable losing huge chunks of time just waiting for data transfers to complete.
'I need to find a solution—or at least a workaround.'
Unfortunately, no matter how hard he racked his brain, no useful ideas surfaced. In fact, it felt like the more he thought about it, the farther he drifted from inspiration.
"Sometimes the best ideas aren't forced. You have to let them come to you. A change of scenery helps."
Zora's advice from over a month ago, when they stood atop the central tower, resurfaced in his mind.
Alex let out a sigh.
"Maybe she's right. I've mostly been cooped up here whenever I'm not in class. Whether it's for my health or my creativity, maybe I really do need to go outside and touch grass once in a while." He chuckled wryly.
With that, he began packing up the materials he'd planned to use.
He'd moved more supplies from the storehouse than the lab's shelves were designed to hold.
Rather than making several back-and-forth trips between the lab and the storehouse, he opted to fold and press down the materials he could safely compress to create more space.
He was in the middle of pressing down a bundle of rolled beast hides, trying to make room for one more, when a spark lit up in his mind.
"Compression...!"