Chapter 72: Tradition

After school, Richard lined up at the bus stop.

He didn't go to the library to study today, nor did he take a detour to the flea market.

He had real business tonight and needed to save his energy.

Evelyn squeezed through the crowd to his side. A small yellow flower, plucked from who knew where, was pinned into the ends of her hair.

"Rare for you to take the bus today."

"Yeah."

"Not going to the library?"

"Not today."

"The sun must be rising in the west."

"It always sets in the west, so it's not that strange."

Evelyn snorted, dropping the argument.

The bus arrived. They squeezed aboard and took seats one behind the other.

Richard leaned against the window, watching the Briston streetscape slide past.

Factory chimneys belched smoke, and coal ash drifted through the air.

Once home, the siblings returned to their respective rooms to change out of their uniforms.

After changing, he waited a moment before pulling Grey's pastry box from his bag. He walked over to his sister's room and knocked twice.

The door cracked open, and Evelyn's face peeked out.

"What?"

"Treating you to afternoon tea." He handed the Tin Box through the gap.

These pastries didn't have a long shelf life—especially the fruit tarts, which would go bad if they weren't eaten today.

Evelyn took it and popped the lid, looking down at the arrangement inside.

"Who made these?"

"A classmate."

"Which classmate?"

"One who knows how to bake."

Evelyn picked up a lemon scone and flipped it over to check the bake on the bottom.

"This mold was handmade." She held a cookie up to the light.

"The curve on the edge is uneven. A factory press wouldn't leave it like this."

Richard hadn't expected her to have such a sharp eye.

"The panna cotta base in the fruit tart uses gelatin sheets. That costs a lot more than thickening it with cornstarch."

Evelyn brought the tart right under her nose and sniffed. "Good flour, and the butter wasn't cheap either."

She closed the lid. "This classmate who knows how to bake... is it a girl?"

"...What are you basing that on?"

"The mold is shaped like an owl. A guy wouldn't cut out something like that."

Evelyn set the Tin Box on her desk and pulled up a chair.

"The craftsmanship is great, and they put a lot of heart into making it."

She said this in a completely serious tone, without a hint of teasing.

"If this person applied to those baking schools in the Imperial Capital, they'd probably get in."

"Why not say you could get in, too?"

"Get in with what? I haven't even used gelatin sheets before. Our family can't afford them."

Evelyn picked a fruit tart from the box and took a bite.

After a few chews, her expression subtly changed.

"Delicious."

She took another bite, then hesitated. "Brother."

"Hm?"

"That classmate of yours, are you two..."

"We're just classmates."

"I wasn't finished asking."

"I already know what you want to ask, and the answer is the same."

Evelyn shot him a glare.

"Alright, fine, classmates. Whatever you say, you're classmates."

...

After dinner, he returned to his room, drew the curtains tight, and clicked on his desk lamp.

Richard took out his notebook and flipped to where he had left off last night.

The last line of handwriting on the blank page was still clearly legible: "Because at this stage, you do not need to perform any rituals."

The next paragraph of the document provided the answer for what lay beyond the Practitioner Rank.

"Starting from Minor Adept, everything begins to change."

"The Minor Adept Rank is the first true hurdle on the entire path of ascension."

"If a Signature is simply writing your name on a supernatural item's nameplate, then the Minor Adept ritual is the first time you knock on the door to the veil and say to whatever is behind it: 'I am here.'"

"This is the first true ritual, and the first time you are required to pay a price."

"After the ritual, what you gain and what you lose will both be irreversible."

The text went on to outline the rough progression process from Practitioner to Minor Adept:

"The Practitioner stage is a long period of accumulation. It can take a few years on the short end, and up to a decade or longer on the far end.

During this time, the practitioner must continually deepen their focus in their chosen direction until they reach a critical threshold known as the 'Limen.'

"The Limen is not a specific numerical value; it is a state.

One day, you will suddenly realize that the knowledge, skills, and ether reserves you possess have been blocked by an invisible wall."

"You clearly know the method, yet you cannot execute it any better;

You can see the outline of the answer, yet you cannot grasp it;

Your ether is relatively abundant, yet it lacks vitality."

"This wall is the Limen. It will not appear on its own, nor will it vanish automatically. You can only sense it when you are ready.

And the moment you sense it, you must make a choice: stop on this side of the wall, or smash right through."

"Those who choose to stop will spend the rest of their lives as Practitioners.

There is no shame in this; it is the final destination for most Practitioners, and the wisest choice."

"Those who choose to smash through must complete the Minor Adept ritual."

The document referred to the Minor Adept ritual as the "Prima Juratio"—the First Oath—deliberately distinguishing it from a Signature.

A Signature was signing a name; an Oath was forging a covenant.

The fundamental difference between the two lay in this: a Signature did not disturb the veil, while an Oath alerted it.

"There is only one core step to the Minor Adept ritual: the practitioner places a supernatural item in a location where the veil's permeation is strongest and, using their own ether as a medium, issues a declaration to the other side of the veil through the supernatural item."

"The exact words of this declaration vary from person to person, but the core meaning remains the same: 'I am ready to bear a deeper gaze.'"

"The veil will respond."

"The manner of this response varies by person, time, and place. No two Minor Adept ritual experiences are exactly alike.

However, one thing is universal: the moment the veil responds to you, the ether structure within your body will undergo a fundamental change."

"This change is irreversible."

Such a light and breezy passage condensed over a decade—or even decades—of cultivation, entirely oversimplifying the specific process.

Richard knew exactly why the author had written it this way.

The author assumed that anyone reading this introductory textbook was still miles away from reaching Minor Adept.

Judging by the subjective intent behind the words, the author seemed to hope that whoever read this book would simply stop at the Practitioner stage.

Even so, the document still provided a brief description of what followed the promotion to Minor Adept:

"A Minor Adept's ether is no longer merely a tool; it becomes an extension of the body.

A Practitioner invokes ether like a craftsman picking up a hammer; a Minor Adept wields ether like a person swinging their arm.

The difference between the two is the gap between proficiency and instinct."

Further up, in the section covering the transition from Minor Adept to Major Adept, the text no longer focused on technical details. Instead, it began discussing tradition.

"Advancing past the Minor Adept Rank, the practitioner is no longer an isolated individual."

"Anyone attempting to stride from Minor Adept to Major Adept must connect to a system far grander than themselves.

Practitioners refer to this as 'Traditio'—Tradition."