Here is the revised, expanded version of Chapter 8, focusing on Daemon's meticulous internal analysis of the Academy's structure, the economic reality of the credit system, and the cold logic of choosing the Goblin mission for maximum personal growth and data acquisition.
The first month at the Magic Academy had not been a period of awkward adjustment for Daemon; it was a methodical, unrelenting exercise in scientific espionage. He viewed the sprawling institution not as a place of learning, but as a complex machine, and the curriculum as its operating manual. He had a tight four-year timeline to not only master the system but to find its weaknesses—a goal that required a ruthless focus on efficiency and resource acquisition.
Daemon had quickly distilled his daily routine into three core subjects, each providing a different lens through which to analyze the world's functional physics and sociology. Principles of Magic was the theoretical heart. He endured Master Harkan's mystical lectures, quietly translating the dogma of 'spiritual alignment' into empirical mechanics. The Aether was simply the pervasive energy field; the 'Inner Well' was the neurological energy reservoir. He was proficient, always providing the controlled, precise demonstrations required, but his greatest effort went into concealing the true, effortless ease of his cold-switch technique and the full power of his Tria affinities. He knew that academic applause was worthless; secrecy was survival.
Weapons Proficiency & Warfare was the class that validated his current state. Taught by the rugged Master Veridian, this course—which included Beast Subjugation and Warfare Tactics—was a field guide to the Kingdom's external threats. His physical strength, augmented by a hidden multiplier tied directly to his magical core's capacity, made him unnaturally fast and strong. He wielded the practice spear and shield with an economical efficiency that won silent respect, always careful to throttle his output, ensuring his skill appeared high while his true power remained masked, preventing any early inquiries into his sudden, unnatural physical growth.
Finally, Runic Enchantment was the path to ultimate technological control. Under the precise Master Kael, Daemon recognized the runes not as mystical symbols, but as a complex programming language—algorithms that allowed magic to be imprinted onto inert matter, creating functional technology. This class, above all others, was his most strategic investment; mastering this code meant mastering the Kingdom's entire infrastructure, from enchanted defenses to communication relays.
Despite his aptitude, the Academy maintained a clear barrier between potential and privilege: Credits, the internal currency. The institution supplied the bare necessities—the uniform, basic meals, and a sterile dormitory room—but true advancement was gated. Credits were required for access to specialized materials, advanced texts in the restricted library sections, and, most crucially, time in the powerful Forge, where Daemon intended to construct high-grade, runic-enhanced gear that would outclass the nobles' simple, inherited equipment.
He found the entire economic ecosystem laid bare on the Activity Board, a rough display of parchments that cataloged the exchange rate of risk for reward. He recognized the systemic inefficiency immediately. Low-credit tasks, like herb gathering (25 credits) or perimeter scouting (10 credits), were a criminal waste of his time and unique talent. His mind discarded them as statistically irrelevant. His augmented body and Tria affinities were engineered for high-stress environments.
Daemon's long-term plan was self-sufficiency through commerce—selling specialized runic weapons. However, this path was initially blocked. Accessing the Forge and purchasing the base materials—rare earth minerals, specialized alloys—required a significant credit outlay he didn't possess. He needed a rapid, high-yield cash influx that simultaneously served as a training module.
He walked over to the Activity Board and scanned the high-risk missions with cold, analytical focus. He needed a solo mission that would push his energy core to maximum depletion without risking external interference. His eyes settled on a simple, unambiguous slip: Subjugation of a Goblin infestation in Rixdorf (150 Credits).
Goblins. Demonic Spawns. They were weak individually, but numerous, demanding sustained combat and rapid energy cycling—a perfect scenario for accelerating his growth model. This was not about heroism; it was about biological optimization. The mission offered both high reward and a controlled, lethal stress test.
Daemon detached the mission slip, signing the log with a neat, unhurried hand. His preparation was minimal and functional. He retrieved the equipment he knew best: a sturdy short spear and his familiar round shield. This combination, which demanded close-quarters, disciplined movement, was perfect for confirming the precise current multiplier of his physical strength.
He focused his mind on the critical realization of his physiology: the five-fold strength was not a fixed constant. It was a dynamic variable, a multiplier tied directly to the size and capacity of his magical core. Every time his Tria affinities (Fire, Water, and Healing) were pushed to their limits in sustained combat, his core expanded, and consequently, his physical strength grew. The Rixdorf mission was designed to accelerate this process.
As night fell, Daemon slipped out of the Academy grounds, moving with calculated stealth. He wore only his dark, patched training gear. He carried no unnecessary baggage, as speed and efficiency were paramount. The hours-long walk to Rixdorf was spent internally running simulations, anticipating the attack patterns of the Goblins and calculating the precise energy expenditure required to maximize the strain on his core. He was going to Rixdorf not as an aspiring hero, but as a scientist about to initiate the next, crucial phase of his high-stakes, ruthless experiment. The Goblin infestation was merely the necessary fuel for his ambition.