Chapter 23: Presenting the Core

I held the Everglow Core in my hands, its steady pulse resonating with my heartbeat. The design was perfect—or at least, it felt perfect. But I wasn't about to trust it blindly. If this thing was going to be used in the field, I needed to be sure it wouldn't fail when it mattered. The only way to test it was to put it through its paces myself.

I sat down on the cool floor of the workshop, the core resting in my lap. Closing my eyes, I focused on the flow of mana within me, drawing it out and channeling it into the core. The nodes inside expanded gently, like a living organism taking its first breath. The feedback loop glowed faintly, monitoring the energy flow.

Once the core was full of mana, I shifted my focus to the Celestial Essence. The nodes adjusted seamlessly, compressing the mana as the Essence began the conversion process. I watched closely as the core's glow intensified, the mana transforming into a denser, more potent form of energy.

When the core was fully converted, I reversed the process, absorbing the refined energy back into myself. The sensation was sharp, almost electric, and I felt the rush of power surge through my veins. It was clean, efficient—no waste, no leakage.

I repeated the cycle again and again, each time pushing the core a little harder. I filled it with mana, converted it with Celestial Essence, and absorbed the refined energy. Each cycle lasted a little longer as I monitored the core's temperature, the stability of the nodes, and the integrity of the feedback loop. So far, there were no signs of strain or instability.

By the fifth cycle, I was sweating, but the core showed no signs of faltering. The nodes expanded and contracted like clockwork, and the feedback loop remained inactive, its glow steady. Even under continuous use, the core didn't overheat or show any signs of wear. It was holding up perfectly.

I paused for a moment, catching my breath. This was good—better than good. The core wasn't just self-sustaining; it was resilient.

I stared at the Everglow Core on my workbench, its steady hum filling the room. It had taken me a week of relentless work—adjusting the nodes, fine-tuning the feedback loop, and testing it over and over until I was sure it wouldn't fail. Every hour of sleep I'd sacrificed, every moment of frustration when the energy leaked or the nodes faltered—it all led to this. The core was ready. Or at least, it was as ready as it could be.

The Gathering of Races was tonight, and I needed to bring something that would make an impression. Something that would prove I wasn't just some kid messing around with crystals. I grabbed a blank core from the shelf—a smaller, more portable version of the Everglow Core—and began the process of replicating my design. My fingers moved quickly, etching the lattice structure with precision. This wasn't just a sample; it was a statement.

I infused the core with mana, watching as the nodes expanded and contracted. The Celestial Essence I'd stored earlier flowed into the core, compressing the mana into something denser, refined. The feedback loop activated, and the core hummed steadily. It was a perfect miniature—a proof of concept that I could hand over without risking the full-sized version.

I held the sample core up to the light, turning it over in my hands. It was smooth, unblemished, and radiated energy in a way that was impossible to ignore. This was the culmination of everything I'd learned, and it was ready to be presented.

I glanced at the clock. Time was ticking. I grabbed a small containment case and carefully placed the core inside, securing it with layers of insulation to keep the energy stable. My suit hung in the corner of the workshop, pressed and ready. I hadn't worn it in months, and the thought of putting it on felt strange, almost foreign. But tonight wasn't about comfort—it was about making an impression.

I dressed quickly, adjusting the collar and smoothing out the wrinkles. The suit fit better than I remembered, and I couldn't help but feel a small flicker of pride. I grabbed the containment case, checked the lock twice, and headed for the door.

The Everglow Core was ready. I was ready. The Gathering awaited.

The carriage shuddered to a halt, and I stepped out onto the cobblestone courtyard, the weight of the containment case in my hand grounding me. The Gathering of Races was already in full swing, the air buzzing with conversations, laughter, and the occasional burst of energy from someone showing off their latest invention. I adjusted my suit jacket, feeling the unfamiliar stiffness of the fabric, and glanced back at Lyra and Kael as they climbed out behind me.

Lyra smoothed her dress and shot me a sharp look. "Try not to look like you're plotting something. You're here to make connections, not enemies."

Kael grinned, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Relax, Caius. Just be yourself. If they don't like you, that's their problem."

I nodded, but my grip on the containment case tightened. This wasn't just about making connections—it was about proving myself. I scanned the crowd, spotting alchemists, engineers, and even a few people I recognized from the Expanse. They were all here for the same reason: to impress, to network, to carve out a place in this world.

We made our way into the grand hall, the high ceilings and glittering chandeliers adding to the sense of grandeur. Tables lined the walls, each one showcasing some kind of invention or artifact. I spotted Veyra near the center of the room, deep in conversation with a tall figure in a flowing robe. She caught my eye and gave me a subtle nod before returning to her discussion.

"Where do we start?" Kael asked, his voice low.

"Here." I set the containment case on an empty table and popped the latch. The Everglow Core glowed faintly, its hum barely audible over the noise of the crowd. I adjusted the nodes, priming it for a demonstration.

A man with a silver crest pinned to his chest approached, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the core. "What's this?"

"A breakthrough," I said, meeting his gaze. "A self-sustaining energy converter. It refines mana into other energy without the need for external input."

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. "Prove it."

I activated the core, feeling the familiar surge of energy as it began its cycle. The nodes expanded, the feedback loop glowed, and the refined energy pulsed steadily. The man's skepticism shifted to interest, and he leaned in closer to inspect the core.

"Impressive," he muttered. "Who are you?"

"Caius Elarion," I said.

The man with the silver crest nodded and stepped back, his expression thoughtful. Before I could press further, a group approached—three figures with sharp, elegant features and an air of quiet authority. Elves. Their movements were deliberate, their eyes studying the Everglow Core with a curiosity that bordered on scrutiny.

"Caius Elarion?" the lead elf asked, her voice smooth and measured.

"That's me." I straightened, instinctively adjusting my posture.

She gestured to the core. "This is your work?"

"Yes," I said, glancing at Lyra and Kael beside me. "It's a self-sustaining energy converter. It refines mana into other forms of energy without external input."

The elf tilted her head, her gaze narrowing slightly. "An interesting claim. How does it handle higher concentrations of mana?"

I activated the core again, this time feeding it a larger burst of mana than before. The nodes expanded further, the hum rising in pitch as the core absorbed and refined the energy. The elf's eyes flickered with something—approval, maybe, or surprise.

"Impressive," she murmured. "And the Celestial Essence integration—how stable is it?"

"Completely stable," I answered. "It's been tested extensively."

Before the elf could respond, a deep, gruff voice cut through the air. "Let me see that."

I turned to see a dwarf standing nearby, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He had a thick beard streaked with gray and a pair of goggles dangling around his neck. He stepped forward, his boots thudding against the stone floor, and leaned in to inspect the core.

"Hmph." He grunted, his eyes narrowing. "Looks fragile."

"Looks can be deceiving," I said, meeting his gaze. "It's been through rigorous testing."

The dwarf snorted but didn't argue. Instead, he reached out and tapped the core with a thick finger. The nodes reacted instantly, adjusting to the disturbance without faltering. The dwarf raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from skepticism to grudging interest.

"Not bad," he admitted. "But could it handle the stress of a forge? We've got processes that need higher energy output than this little thing's probably capable of."

"It can," I said firmly. "It's designed to adapt."

The elf and the dwarf exchanged a glance, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged with something unspoken. Then the elf turned back to me, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"We'd like to discuss this further," she said. "Are you available to speak privately?"

I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Lyra and Kael. They both gave me small nods of encouragement.

"Lead the way," I said.

The private room was quieter, the hum of the Gathering muffled by thick stone walls. The elf and dwarf sat across from me, their expressions unreadable. Lyra and Kael stood by the door, their presence a silent reassurance. I set the Everglow Core on the table between us, its steady glow casting soft light over the polished wood.

"How long can it last?" the elf asked, her voice calm and measured.

"It depends on the energy input," I replied, leaning forward. "With a standard mana charge, it can run continuously for about 72 hours before needing recalibration. If you're pushing it to higher outputs, that time decreases, but it's designed to handle sustained use."

The dwarf grunted. "How high can it go?"

I tapped the core, activating the feedback loop. "At maximum output, it can refine and release energy equivalent to a tier-three fire crystal explosion. But I wouldn't recommend hitting that ceiling unless you've got a solid containment system in place. It's more efficient at lower levels."

The elf tilted her head, her sharp eyes never leaving the core. "And the adaptations you mentioned earlier—how quickly can it adjust to different energy types?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small pouch of raw mana crystals. Channeling a trickle of energy into the core, I watched as the nodes shifted seamlessly, converting the mana into a visible pulse of light. "Almost instantaneously. It's designed to recognize the energy signature and adapt without manual input."

The dwarf leaned in, his thick fingers hovering near the core. "What about heat? We've got systems that run hot. Can it handle that?"

"It's insulated," I explained. "The lattice structure disperses heat evenly, and the Celestial Essence integration keeps the core stable under high temperatures. It's been tested in environments up to 500 degrees without degradation."

The elf and dwarf exchanged a glance, their silence heavy with consideration. I could feel the weight of their scrutiny, but I kept my expression neutral. The core was sound—I knew that. Now it was just a matter of convincing them.

The elf finally spoke, her tone thoughtful. "And the Celestial Essence—how stable is it in the long term?"

"Completely stable," I said firmly. "The Essence is locked into the lattice structure. It doesn't degrade, and it doesn't leak. I've run multiple stress tests to confirm it."

The dwarf leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Alright, Caius. One last question. How long does this core last? Before it needs to be replaced, I mean."

I hesitated for a moment, weighing my words. "Until the Celestial Essence is completely consumed," I said, my voice steady.

The room went quiet. The elf's sharp eyes narrowed slightly, and the dwarf's bushy eyebrows shot up. Even Lyra and Kael, standing by the door, exchanged a quick glance.

The dwarf was the first to break the silence. "Completely consumed? As in, it burns out?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "The Celestial Essence is the catalyst that makes the core function. Once it's depleted, the core becomes inert. But"—I held up a hand before they could interject—"that doesn't mean it's useless. The lattice structure can be repurposed, and the Essence can be replenished if you have the resources."

The elf leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "And how long does that take? Depleting the Essence, I mean."

"It depends on usage," I explained. "Under normal conditions, with moderate energy conversion, it can last several months. If you're pushing it to its limits—high output, constant use—it could burn out in a matter of weeks."

The dwarf let out a low whistle, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "Months, huh? That's not bad, considering what this thing can do. But what happens if it does burn out mid-use? Explosion? Meltdown?"

"No catastrophic failure," I assured him. "The core is designed to fail safely. When the Essence is nearly depleted, the nodes will lock, and the energy flow will cease. It'll stop functioning, but it won't endanger anyone or anything around it."

The elf nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "And the cost of replenishing the Essence? Is it feasible for large-scale operations?"

"It can be," I said carefully. "Celestial Essence is rare, but it's not impossible to acquire. And once you have it, the process of integrating it into the core is straightforward. The real challenge is sourcing the Essence itself."