Forbidden Splicer: Infinite Spellcraft

Chapter 8: Glacial Trade

Frost coated stone arches in the inner archives of Vault 7. Heavy iron racks held hundreds of ancient spell canisters, their surfaces encrusted with pale blue ice. Quiet mist drifted across slate floor tiles, smelling of frozen ink and old parchment.

Jaroth walked past the outer ward post, holding out the silver wooden token Lady Katherine had granted him. Guard spears parted without a word. While commoner scribes remained locked behind upper gates, Jaroth moved through the inner arcana sector without hindrance.

Archivist Garrick stood beside an iron desk at the entrance of the sub-vault, his thin face twisted in resentment. His gray eyes tracked Jaroth with bitter envy.

"Since Lady Katherine holds your work in such high regard," Garrick said, his dry voice raspy, "you can clean the Corrupted Inscription Stacks. Section Four. The scrolls there leak volatile frost radiation. Clear the shelf bases before sunrise."

Garrick turned his back, expecting the assignment to crush Jaroth. Exposure to unshielded frost radiation caused lung rot in commoners within hours.

Jaroth bowed his head, hiding the sharp glint in his eyes. "Right away, sir."

He walked down stone steps into Section Four. The air carried a heavy blue haze that burned his throat with every breath. Rows of crumbling, ancient scrolls sat on stone pedestals, their parchment rotting from centuries of unshielded mana leakage.

To Garrick, Section Four was a death sentence for an unarmored scribe. To Jaroth, the room was a goldmine.

Jaroth stepped behind the central cryo-pillar, out of sight of upper walkway guards. Cold stone blocked the draft, providing a quiet pocket of shadow.

He opened his system interface. Blue holographic text flickered in the blue haze:

[Current Inventory Status]

Slot 1:

[Displacement Sheath (Utility Matrix)]

Slot 2:

[Void-Refraction Aegis (Defensive Matrix)]

Slot 3:

[Cryo-Lock Matrix (Control Matrix)]

His three matrix slots were full. He could not harvest new fragments from Section Four without clearing capacity.

Jaroth focused on

Cryo-Lock Matrix

and

Void-Refraction Aegis

Cryo-Lock Matrix

provided ancient thermal suppression and kinetic freeze.

Void-Refraction Aegis

offered spatial reflection and temporary concealment upon impact.

He commanded the interface to merge their structural codes.

[Fusing Stored Matrices...]

[Synthesis Complete: Glacial Stasis Domain (Tier 1 High-Control Art)]

Effect: Deploys a 15-foot aura of zero-degree cold that instantly freezes incoming kinetic attacks, locks enemy mana pathways, and reflects physical projectiles as shattered ice shrapnel.

Current Slots Occupied: 2/3.

The blue light faded from his retinas. The new spell occupied two slots in his system bank, freeing up a slot for future harvests.

Jaroth pulled a sheet of refined monster-hide parchment from his inner tunic pocket. Sitting on a stone crate, he dipped his steel-tipped quill into silver ink and guided his hand across the paper.

His interface transferred

Glacial Stasis Domain

directly into the parchment. Silver runes etched into the hide, glowing with dark blue light before settling into the fibers. The transfer emptied another matrix slot, leaving his inventory ready for fresh spell code.

Night mist hung thick over the Sunless Quarter as Jaroth slipped through the Waste Drain. He pulled his dark wool cowl over his face, his boots making no sound against damp cobblestones.

He entered The Blind Owl, stepping past the main showroom into a curtained private suite at the rear of the shop.

Lyra sat at a heavy mahogany table lit by brass oil lamps. Opposite her sat Master Valerius, his dark velvet coat trimmed with silver thread. His fingers rested on the table, obsidian rings catching the amber lamp glow.

Jaroth placed the newly inscribed monster-hide scroll onto the mahogany table.

Lyra unsealed the parchment, unrolling two inches of hide. Valerius reached into his coat and pulled out a faceted crimson appraisal gem, holding it over the silver runes.

A shaft of red light projected from the gem, illuminating the scroll structure.

Inside the red beam, two complex spell matrices interlocked in balance. Spatial reflection vectors twisted through an ancient thermal stasis core. The appraisal gem hummed, but no Imperial mana stamps or bloodline signatures appeared in the light.

Valerius leaned forward, his dark eyes wide as he studied the diagnostic readout.

"Spatial reflection integrated with ancient frost control," Valerius murmured, his voice hushed. "This is not standard spellcraft. It carries no caster signature, no guild mark, and no bloodline trace."

Lyra looked up at Jaroth. "I offered five hundred gold crowns for your previous work, Splicer. I will give you one thousand for this scroll."

Valerius set his appraisal gem on the table, his gaze locking onto Jaroth's cowl.

"Two thousand Imperial Gold Crowns," Valerius stated, his voice calm and decisive. "And I will include a rare item from my personal vault."

Valerius placed a small velvet pouch and a black iron box onto the mahogany surface. He opened the iron box, revealing a glowing, violet crystal carved with delicate rune channels—a Medium-Grade Matrix Core.

Lyra closed her mouth, unable to match the offer.

Jaroth reached out and picked up the violet crystal. As his fingers closed around the cold stone, the interface reacted instantly, siphoning the core's energy into his chest mark.

[Medium-Grade Matrix Core Absorbed]

[Matrix Storage Capacity Increased: 3 Slots $\rightarrow$ 5 Slots]

Current Slots Available: 3/5.

A subtle jolt of power swept through his upper body as two new matrix slots opened inside his system vault. He gathered the velvet pouch containing high-value gold trade bars, tucking the wealth into his inner cloak.

"The scroll is yours," Jaroth said raspy beneath his cowl.

Jaroth walked down a narrow catacomb passage leading toward the Citadel Waste Drain. Heavy gold trade bars rested against his ribs, worth more than a commoner family earned in three generations. His system vault now held five matrix slots, ready to store higher-tier spellcraft.

Steam rose from iron sewer grates, obscuring the stone walkway in gray fog.

As he approached a subterranean tavern built into a carved cave, voices echoed from a dark alcove beside the entrance.

Jaroth stopped, stepping into the shadow of a stone support pillar. He triggered

Void-Refraction Aegis

to mask his breathing and minimize his presence.

Two men stood in the mist. Both wore rough leather coats favored by black-market traders, but their polished leather boots and rigid posture betrayed their true identity as disguised Citadel Enforcers. A thin man with a scarred jaw stood before them, clutching a bag of silver coins.

"Are you certain of the rumor?" one Enforcer asked, his voice low and sharp.

"It is no rumor, sir," the informant whispered, looking over his shoulder. "The Splicer sells custom scrolls at The Blind Owl. He uses ancient spell matrices that match descriptions from Vault 7."

The second Enforcer grunted. "Lady Katherine deduced it two hours ago. She analyzed the blast patterns in the archives and realized the Splicer is sourcing raw spell matrices from the sub-vaults above."

Jaroth's chest tightened beneath his wool cloak.

"When does the purge begin?" the first Enforcer asked.

"Within forty-eight hours," the informant replied. "Lady Katherine ordered three covert strike squads into the catacombs. They will seal every exit from the Waste Drain to the lower docks, burn The Blind Owl, and take the Splicer alive for core interrogation."

The three men turned and walked down the alley, their footsteps fading into the fog.

Jaroth remained standing in the shadow of the stone pillar.

Lady Katherine was closing the gap faster than he anticipated. She had used logic to bridge the gap between the Citadel archives above and the black market below. In forty-eight hours, her Enforcers would sweep the Sunless Quarter, destroy his trading hub, and sever his economic supply line.

Jaroth gripped the silver pass in his pocket, feeling the cold wooden edge cut into his palm.

A cold, calculating smile formed beneath his cowl.

He would not run, nor would he abandon The Blind Owl. In forty-eight hours, when Katherine's covert strike squads descended into the dark catacombs, he would ensure they walked into a trap of his own making.