I Loaded the Occult Panel

Hecate offered a summary.

”The information shared tonight carries real weight.”

She looked toward the man in the ivy mask.

”Dionysus, your cumulative contributions from last time and tonight are the highest.”

”I will use my personal channels to get you an admission ticket to the third floor of Imperial Capital University.”

Dionysus hesitated slightly.

”...Thank you for your generosity.”

Hecate didn’t wait for him to ask further.

”I will notify you later regarding what price you must pay.”

”Understood,” Dionysus said, raising his wine glass once again.The information segment came to a close, but Hecate did not announce the end of the gathering like she had last time.

”We still have some time left tonight. I’ll take this opportunity to talk about something else.”

Dionysus immediately straightened his back.

Prometheus returned the booklet to his inner pocket, freeing up both hands.

Richard read the cues from their immediate reactions: this wasn’t the first time.

Every few gatherings, Hecate would casually share knowledge accessible only at her level.

”It’s a pity Ares isn’t here tonight,” Dionysus murmured.

”He’s always the most attentive when it comes to this kind of thing.”

”A pity indeed,” Prometheus agreed.

Hecate sat at the head of the table, folding her hands in her lap.

”Tonight, I will speak about the preparatory work for the Major Adept stage.”

Richard’s attention sharpened instantly.

Although both he and Nemesis were still a long way from that point, it never hurt to learn about it ahead of time.

”A few of you will soon face the bottleneck of the Minor Adept rank,” Hecate said.

”Before that happens, there is one thing you must complete in advance.”

”What is it?” Dionysus asked.

”Making a preliminary selection of a tradition for your Major Adept advancement.”

”A preliminary selection?” Nemesis voiced the question on everyone’s mind.

The eyes on the upper half of Hecate’s golden mask—the face of a young maiden—narrowed.

”The strength of your Minor Adept rank is fundamentally determined by the preliminary selection you make for your Major Adept rank.”

When she dropped that revelation, everyone at the round table sat up straight.

Richard committed it to memory, waiting for the others to ask questions first.

Dionysus took the lead.

”What does that mean exactly?”

Hecate parted her hands, turning her palms upward.

”There are the five major traditions: Solar, Hearth Fire, Abyss, Moon-Hunting, and Weaver. Along with a few minor traditions, each lineage has its own distinct path.”

”The oath-taking ritual to advance to Minor Adept establishes your first formal connection with the veil.

During this ritual, you can make a preliminary selection of a tradition and obtain a portion of its power in advance.”

Prometheus asked, ”And if we don’t make a preliminary selection?”

”Not making one is also an option,” Hecate nodded.

”A Minor Adept who hasn’t made a selection will be a tier weaker in overall strength than one who has, but they will have greater flexibility.

When it comes time for the second Signature at the Major Adept stage, their range of choices will be much broader.”

”If you make the selection, you gain a tier of strength, but your path is locked.”

”If you don’t, you remain a tier weaker, but your path can still be adjusted.”

Richard clarified the logic in his mind. It was a very clear trade-off.

”How exactly do you make this preliminary selection?” Nemesis asked.

”The specific method is quite vague.” Hecate didn’t explain in fine detail.

”It varies from person to person, and from tradition to tradition.”

”But there are a few general principles.”

She raised her left hand and traced an imaginary line in the air with her finger.

”Principle one: the tradition you choose for your Major Adept rank must be compatible with your current breathing method.”

The lower half of the mask—the face of an old crone—smiled, looking rather eerie.

”The sole exception is the Path of the Abyss. Aside from its own Abyss Tradition, it is also compatible with all other traditions.”

The Path of the Abyss was actually compatible with all traditions. Richard committed that piece of information to memory.

”Principle two: your chosen practitioner path determines which traditions you should lean toward.”

Hecate raised her hand in a sorting gesture.

”For the Scholar path, I personally highly recommend that you stick strictly to the Solar Tradition, or a few minor traditions outside the main five that are associated with Scholars.”

”Which ones exactly?” Richard couldn’t help but ask.

”Star Chart, Tome, and Mirror,” Hecate listed off a few names.

”None of these belong to the five major traditions, but they are highly compatible with the Scholar path.”

”Those on the Scholar path must never touch the Abyss Tradition.”

She gave a pointed warning:

”For researchers like you, ’looking down’ is an instinct. The price of the Abyss Tradition falls heaviest upon Scholars.”

As Hecate reached this point, Dionysus interjected.

”Then, at the Major Adept stage, can there be unusual combinations of traditions and paths?”

”There can,” Hecate said.

At this, both the crone and the maiden on the mask smiled.

”The Abyss Tradition paired with the Hunter path.”

”A terrifying combination. Almost invincible within the same Rank, and capable of even rivaling certain Virtuosos.”

”But they usually don’t live past five years.”

”Why?” Nemesis asked.

”The price of the Abyss Tradition is the direct consumption of the practitioner themselves, and the Hunter path accelerates that process.”

Hecate said, ”Both are dragging you down. One pulls from the front, while the other pushes from behind.”

”There is another classic example... the Hearth Fire Tradition paired with the Scholar path.”

”Those who take this route easily end up modifying themselves beyond all recognition.”

”There is a textbook case in the records where a Scholar chose the Hearth Fire Tradition.

Ten years later, he had turned into a living sculpture embedded in a wall, relying on dozens of thin tubes to maintain his vital signs.”

”Embedded in a wall.” Prometheus pictured the imagery.

”He modified himself,” Hecate said.

”At first, he just wanted to add a few auxiliary tubes. But they multiplied.

The more tubes there were, the harder they became to separate from the walls. In the end, he simply grew into the wall.”

”Is he still alive?” Dionysus asked.

”He was from three hundred years ago and has lived until now,” Hecate replied.

”Though even he can’t say for sure whether that state truly counts as living.”

Hearing this sent a chill down Richard’s spine.

Having finished with her examples, Hecate folded her hands and rested them on her lap again.

”Just treat these examples of choosing a tradition at the Major Adept stage as mere stories. Focus on what is right in front of you for now.”

”That will be all for tonight. The next gathering will be in mid-February.”

She raised a hand and swiped lightly over the table.

”Before the gathering after that, in mid-April, I will send out another round of invitations for newcomers.”

”Another round?” Dionysus was somewhat surprised.

”Yes,” Hecate said.

”Once all seven chairs are filled, the gathering will enter its second phase.”

”What is the second phase?” Nemesis asked.

”It involves the divine names of everyone seated here,” Hecate said.

”When that time comes, each of you will obtain the exclusive power associated with your divine name.”

”What kind of power exactly?” Dionysus asked.

”You will know when the time comes.”

Hecate did not elaborate further.

”Tonight is concluded. The method of departure remains the same. Close your eyes and count to seven.”

After everyone had left, she remained seated at the head of the table. Reaching into the empty air, she manifested a cluster of phantom Clay Tokens across the table’s surface.

She had already sorted through the first batch she had sent out following the previous gathering.

Tonight, she needed to review the remaining ones she had marked as ”pending.”

Her fingertips paused over the phantoms one by one.

Pan—an actor at a theater on Flower Moon Street; the Clay Token was still inside the makeup box.

Demeter—the heiress of an estate in the west; the Clay Token had been tossed at the bottom of a wastebasket.

Poseidon—the son of a naval officer; the Clay Token had been concealed by a family seal.

None of these candidates were particularly suitable.

Hecate withdrew her fingertips, her thoughts drifting to the person who was absent today.

For a low-Rank Hunter, the loss of a limb was fatal.

Ares had been severely injured and lost an arm in the Ash Belt this time. Even if he found someone to attach a prosthetic later, his potential was greatly crippled.

For a place like the Ash Belt, she had originally expected him to spend a few more months preparing.

Thinking of this, she grew increasingly dissatisfied with Ares.

If she found a more suitable candidate in the future, she might just find a reason to eliminate him.

Seven chairs. If she wanted to fill them all, she needed to scatter another wave of tokens.

And this wave had to be more precise than the last.

Sitting at the head of the table, Hecate let out a long breath.

She waved her hand, dispersing the phantom Clay Tokens on the desk.

”Before sending out the tokens this time, I’ll need to do more investigating.”

...

When Richard opened his eyes, the sound of rain pattering against the window frame was crisp.

Since winter set in at Briston, the rain had always been intermittent. Tonight’s drizzle was light, but steady.

The wall clock downstairs had just struck ten.

From the moment he fell asleep to the end of the gathering, it had felt like roughly half an hour.

He sat up and checked his watch, confirming that less than an hour had actually passed.

The moment he stepped up to his desk, that large moth had already arrived.

The Spirit Realm Messenger deposited the items obtained from this transaction onto his desk, then quietly dissipated just as it had last time.

The copper-wire-wrapped bottle containing the Deep Ether Condensate, the illustrated guide to the ether massage technique, and the rubbing and instructions for the ”Moon Needle” Spell Formula.

With the three items lined up on the desk, Richard did one thing first.

He brought over his bag of Runestones and, following the standard procedure of Stone Reading, asked three questions.

The first question: Did the ether condensate bottle have any form of backdoors or tracking Spell Formulas?

He grabbed five Runestones and tossed them onto the Copper Dish.

The resulting patterns were:

Double Circles (Relationship), Wheat Ear (Harvest), and Crescent Moon (Growth)—these three landed in the center area.

Water Drop (Unfinished Business) and Spiral (Repetition) rolled outside the Copper Dish.

He translated this set of symbols in his mind.

”The relationship is fine, and the item itself holds harvest value.

Using it will bring about some form of growth, with no hidden dangers.”

The condensate bottle was safe.

Richard gathered the first set of Runestones back into the bag.

The second question: Did the massage technique harbor any form of hidden effects or negative repercussions?

He grabbed a second handful and cast them down.

The resulting pattern this time was even clearer:

Double Circles and Wheat Ear both landed in the center. Crescent Moon was slightly off-center. Water Drop sat at the edge, and Spiral rolled out of the Copper Dish.

”The relationship is fine, and the item has harvest value. The effect exists but has limits. There is ’Unfinished Business’ (aligning with the original premise that massage is merely a supplementary measure and cannot cure), with no hidden dangers.”

The massage technique was safe, though its effects were limited, which perfectly matched Prometheus’s description.

The third question: Did the Moon Nail booklet contain any reverse-tracking or surveillance mechanisms aimed at him?

He cast down the third handful.

Within this set, an entirely new symbol appeared—Double Lines (Trust).

Double Lines landed dead center, Wheat Ear was slightly off-center, while both Water Drop and Spiral rolled outside the Copper Dish.

”The relationship is fine and contains an element of trust. The item holds substantial value, without any hidden dangers.”

The Moon Nail booklet was safe.

Moreover, the appearance of the ”Trust” Runestone indicated that Nemesis’s choice to offer up the Moon Nails tonight carried a certain degree of goodwill.

Given the contrast in the entry thresholds for the two Spell Formulas, he had indeed gotten the better end of the deal.

Nemesis could have easily used the opportunity tonight to ask him to make up the difference in value, but she hadn’t.

Richard returned the Runestones to the bag, his mind racing without pause.

Ever since [Perception] lit up, his sense of boundaries regarding ”what divination is suited for” had grown increasingly clear.

When divination involved himself and the items in his hands, the amount of feedback was immense, and the accuracy was incredibly high.

When divination involved other people, the volume of feedback plummeted rapidly, and the accuracy dropped along with it.

And when divination involved a higher Rank, it immediately invited warnings of backlash.

He had just experienced that firsthand the night before.

Using divination as a mirror yielded the best results.

He wrapped the condensate bottle in three layers of oiled paper and placed it into a hidden compartment deep inside his drawer.

As for the illustrated ether massage technique, he planned to call his aunt tomorrow to ask more about it. He couldn’t afford to be careless with matters concerning his mother’s health.

The Spell Formula rubbing and its instructions were tucked into his notebook, serving as his primary subjects of study for the next phase.

With his desk restored to neatness, Richard blew out the lamp.