The process of contracting Mistfeather ultimately exacted a toll of 1 unit from Pierce’s maximum spiritual capacity, causing his current Spirit attribute to temporarily recede to 20.58.

  Despite this, Pierce deemed the trade exceptionally worthwhile. A loss of 1 unit of capacity could be recovered through five days of deep meditation, but what he gained in return was a familiar with nearly limitless potential. In the logic of an Arcanist, a momentary stagnation in exchange for a future leap was always a prudent calculation.

  Regaining his composure, Pierce’s gaze fell upon Mistfeather inside the cage, who was intensely focused on converting its kin.

  "Now that I think about it, crows are typical omnivores."

  Most animals, once transformed into familiars, do not undergo a subversive change in their biological structure; at most, they receive a magical enhancement upon their original foundation. Consequently, their diets usually remain unchanged. However, a rare mutation like Mistfeather’s—a body comprised entirely of mist—made Pierce somewhat uncertain. Could it still ingest solid nutrients like a common biological entity?

  Driven by this curiosity, Pierce left his apartment.

  A short while later, he returned with a brown paper bag. Entering the kitchen, he retrieved a fresh, unmarred steak, sliced it into bite-sized pieces, and placed them in a ceramic bowl, which he then set upon the living room floor.

  The very instant the sharp sound of porcelain hitting the floor echoed, Mistfeather drifted out from the gaps of the cage as a wisp of light black smoke. It circled once in mid-air before coalescing back into its physical form beside the bowl, beginning to feed with quiet, methodical precision. Every movement exuded a strange sort of elegance; occasionally, it would pause its pecking to gaze at the night sky through the balcony at a forty-five-degree angle, its obsidian eyes reflecting a quality that was almost melancholic.

  "It can ingest raw meat. It seems the basal metabolism has not been entirely erased," Pierce noted inwardly, recording the observation in his mind.

  "However, if I want to accelerate its growth, it would be best to procure some high-energy rations specifically for familiars."

  A familiar’s strength scales with the owner's spiritual rank, but a high-quality culture medium can significantly shorten this cycle. For those even more extravagant, one could allow the familiar to directly absorb Mana Stone particles, though such a cost was currently beyond what a Rank 2 Initiate could easily sustain.

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  The following morning, the cool air soaked the streets.

  Pierce rose early and, after a simple breakfast, donned his clean initiate robes.

  "Let’s go, Mistfeather."

  At its master’s call, Mistfeather snatched up the final scrap of beef and swallowed it. Immediately, its form disintegrated into threads of black smoke amidst a faint hum, winding precisely around Pierce’s right wrist.

  From the perspective of an onlooker, it appeared as though Pierce was wearing a darkly hued, ancient-looking tattoo-like bracelet upon his wrist.

  "This is indeed a convenient ability," Pierce mused, feeling the faint coolness against his skin, a slight smile playing on his lips.

  Traditional familiar transportation was notoriously cumbersome. Wealthy, official Arcanists often equipped themselves with spatial artifacts like "Familiar Private Realms," but such minor magic items cost upwards of thousands of Credits—a literal fairy tale for a fledgling initiate.

  Stepping out of the apartment, Pierce took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. The usual cacophony of cawing had vanished entirely. Last night, Mistfeather had patrolled a one-kilometer radius, assimilating every one of its kind. Now, the area surrounding Pierce was profoundly silent.

  Within the tether of his mind, Pierce could sense over five hundred Mist-Crows stationed within Mistfeather, waiting for his command.

  Pierce’s destination was the academy's Magic Laboratory.

  It was a grand structure situated at the westernmost edge of the Research District, over ten stories high and built entirely of heavy white marble. The exterior walls were etched with layers of enchanted patterns: "Fortitude Runes" for physical reinforcement, "Living Clay Arrays" to grant the building self-repair capabilities, and the core "Radiation Dampening Field" to isolate the magical pollution generated by experiments.

  Entering the laboratory hall, a fair-featured apprentice behind the counter looked up at Pierce and offered a professional smile.

  "Here for a spell evaluation, sir?"

  Pierce nodded calmly. "What are the rental rates here?"

  The girl glanced at the Rank 2 Initiate badge on Pierce’s chest and quickly introduced the rates. "The apprentice section is divided into the Public Testing Hall and Private Isolation Labs. The public hall costs 1 Gold or 1 Credit per hour, but it’s noisy and prone to energy interference. A private lab is 3 Gold or 3 Credits per hour, but it guarantees absolute privacy and precise data."

  Pierce calculated his balance. Aside from the reward he had just received, he would be collecting his wages from the garden in three days. He answered decisively, "Give me a private lab."

  "Very well. That will be 6 Credits for a two-hour block."

  Once payment was settled, the girl handed Pierce a black crystal keycard labeled "Number 12," adding mysteriously, "Our private labs are equipped with the latest 'Arcane Force Targets.' They can quantify every milligram of spell intensity. Enjoy your experiment."

  Pierce followed the quiet corridor upward. The soundproofing here was exceptional; even if a Fireball spell was detonating just a wall away, the only thing audible in the hallway was the steady rhythm of his own footsteps.

  Swiping the card into Lab 12， the heavy stone door clicked shut behind him. The interior was as spacious as a small stadium, the air thick with the acrid scent of ionized ozone.

  "Welcome. Your remaining usage time is 120 minutes," a soft, synthesized female voice echoed through the vast room.

  In the center of the arena stood several humanoid targets crafted from translucent gemstone.

  "Go, Mistfeather. Show me your limits."

  The moment Pierce spoke, the black stream of light on his wrist erupted. Mistfeather reconstructed its sharp silhouette in mid-air, slicing through the air like a bolt of black lightning. It moved with such velocity that it produced a piercing whistle, reaching the crystalline target in the blink of an eye.

  A pair of talons, curved and sharp as blades, tore savagely across the target’s head!

  Crunch!

  Accompanied by the faint sound of shattering crystal, sparks flew from the target as fine dust rained down. Simultaneously, the display matrix on the target’s chest lit up, flashing two lines of cold data:

  Attribute Category: Physical Impact

  Energy Intensity: 1.8 Degrees