Alex sat cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, the dim glow of a single desk lamp casting long shadows over the cluttered space. His notebook lay open in front of him, pages already filled with notes from his previous breakdown of the knowledge he'd absorbed from the Living Archive. Now, it was time to put theory into practice.
He started simple. Latin was the safest option. He picked a basic incantation for creating a minor light source—harmless, supposedly. The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, a language he had never studied but now knew as well as English. He held out his hand, focused his intent, and spoke.
A faint shimmer sparked at his fingertips before fizzling out.
"Alright, so intent definitely matters," he muttered. He repeated the incantation, this time fully concentrating on the effect he wanted. The shimmer flared brighter, forming a weak but steady glow. A triumphant grin spread across his face.
"Good. Latin's functional."
Next was Enochian. He hesitated, his fingers tapping against the page where he'd jotted down a simple phrase. Even the mere idea of testing Enochian sent a warning prickle down his spine. He decided against it—for now.
Instead, he tried another language, one that had come from the Archive's deeper wells of knowledge—something old, something that didn't belong to any human tongue he recognized. He whispered the syllables, feeling the words vibrate through his chest.
The shadows in the room seemed to flicker for just a second.
"Yeah, that's enough of that," he said, slamming the notebook shut.
The next test was ritual work. Using a piece of chalk, he sketched a basic protection circle on the wooden floor. He had memorized the symbols, the precise measurements, the way each line needed to connect. Once finished, he stood inside the circle, took a deep breath, and activated it with a whispered Latin phrase.
The air changed. A subtle pressure pressed against his skin, as if the room itself was acknowledging the boundary he had drawn. He stepped forward—and met resistance. His hand hovered just above the line, but something invisible blocked him from crossing.
"Damn. It works."
Testing a banishment glyph was trickier. Without an actual spirit or entity to repel, he had no way to verify its effectiveness. Instead, he etched the glyph onto a small wooden board and set it aside for future use. He also experimented with a basic summoning circle—not to summon anything but to see if the circle itself would respond to his intent.
The chalk lines pulsed faintly.
"That's... not creepy at all.
Blood magic was something he had no intention of diving into recklessly. But the texts from the Archive suggested that even a single drop could act as a minor power source for spells.
He pricked his finger with a sterilized needle and let a tiny bead of blood fall onto a drawn sigil of protection. The moment it made contact, the ink shimmered faintly before the effect settled.
"So, blood enhances magic. Noted. But it also feels... off." He didn't like the way it had responded, like something had noticed. He would tread carefully here.
Out of curiosity, he tried a different approach. Instead of using blood, he placed his hand over the sigil and focused, pushing energy into it without any physical offering.
The sigil responded, but much weaker.
"So blood's a shortcut. Makes sense."
His mind drifted to the deeper, more abstract knowledge he had absorbed. The Archive had given him more than just functional skills; it had whispered truths about reality, about symbols that carried weight beyond human understanding.
The triquetra, for example. He had always thought of it as just a Celtic design, but now he understood its role in protective magic. He traced one on a piece of parchment, whispered a protective phrase in Latin, and tucked it into his pocket. Better safe than sorry.
Another was the ouroboros, the serpent eating its own tail. Cycles, eternity, self-replication. He wasn't sure how to use that one yet, but it felt important.
By the time he had tested everything safe enough to attempt, exhaustion was starting to creep in. But he had results—real, tangible proof that what he had learned wasn't just theoretical.
He leaned back against the wall, staring at the protection circle still faintly humming on the floor. "This is real. I'm really doing this."
A slow smile crept onto his face. The world was bigger, stranger, and far more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
And he was ready to step into it.