The Cursed Extra-Chapter 119: [2.6-7] When You Can’t Buy Explosives, Make Your Own
"Bureaucrats think in lists. Engineers think in components."
***
Kaelen stared at the red stamp. His fingers traced its edges in slow circles.
Lyra watched his expression shift through subtle gradations. Frustration bled into something sharper. That sharpness hardened into resolve.
She knew the plan had been elegant in its simplicity. Create diversions using alchemical components. Mask his movements in the warrens with smoke and flash. Give himself the tools needed to save Team 7 without revealing his true capabilities.
Now that foundation crumbled beneath the weight of academy bureaucracy. Crushed under the stamp of a dwarf who saw danger in every requisition.
"Thirty-seven years," he murmured. The words barely louder than a breath. "He’s seen every trick, every excuse, every attempt to circumvent the rules. Probably has a mental catalog of which excuses match which components."
The denied slip joined the growing pile of complications on his desk. Settled atop Professor Delacroix’s investigation. The faculty’s mounting suspicions. Seraphina’s penetrating observations.
And now this.
A simple bureaucratic barrier that threatened to unravel everything.
He stood abruptly. His chair scraped against the floor with a harsh sound that made Lyra’s hand twitch toward the concealed blade at her thigh before she caught herself.
The movement sent a sharp spike of pain through his healing ribs. She saw it in the way he caught his breath. The momentary stiffness in his posture.
But he ignored it. Stubborn as always.
Three steps took him to the window, where he stared out at the academy grounds below. Students moved between buildings like pieces on a game board. Following pathways worn smooth by generations of feet. Each following their predetermined routes to predetermined destinations.
From this height, they seemed so small. So insignificant. So utterly unaware of the puppet strings that guided their every step.
"The system protects itself," he said. His voice carried an edge of bitterness that seemed too raw to be part of any act. "Rank 1 students can’t access tactical components because Rank 1 students aren’t supposed to need them. They’re meant to follow the script. Play their assigned roles. Die when the narrative demands it."
His hand pressed flat against the window glass. Fingers splayed against the cold surface.
"The rules aren’t about safety. They’re about control. About keeping the extras in their place."
Lyra watched him. Her crimson eyes tracked his movement with the focus of a predator. Though in this case, she was merely cataloging his state. Preparing to serve whatever need emerged.
She’d seen him frustrated before. Had witnessed the cold anger that surfaced when plans went awry. But this felt different somehow.
This wasn’t the anger of a plan delayed. The kind that burned cold and fueled action.
This was something rawer. Wilder.
This was the fury of someone discovering that their cage had more bars than they’d realized.
"We could try other sources," she suggested. Kept her voice low and even. Offered solutions rather than sympathy because sympathy was not what he needed from her. "The Shadow Market, perhaps. They deal in things the official channels refuse to provide. Or I could arrange to steal what we need from the advanced students’ supplies. House Aurum’s alchemical stores are poorly guarded on rest days. I’ve watched the patrol patterns."
"Too risky."
Kaelen turned from the window. His expression hardened into something sharper. More focused. The wild edge retreated behind his eyes. Replaced by the intelligence she had learned to recognize as his true self.
"The Shadow Market deals in information and favors, not alchemical components. Their stock is leverage, not merchandise. And theft would only draw more attention." He shook his head. "Besides, that’s thinking like a criminal. We’re not thieves. We’re engineers."
He returned to his desk. Swept aside the maps with a decisive gesture that sent parchment cascading to the floor.
Lyra moved instinctively to gather them. But stopped when he pulled a blank sheet toward him and began to write.
His hand moved across the page. Sketched rapid diagrams and chemical formulas that meant nothing to her untrained eye but clearly held profound significance to him.
The quill scratched with increasing speed. Left trails of ink that formed patterns both beautiful and incomprehensible.
"Flash-powder is just magnesium and potassium perchlorate with a binding agent," he muttered. More to himself than to her. "The ratios matter, obviously, but the base components are simple. Niter-dust is refined saltpeter mixed with sulfur compounds. Farmers use variations of it for fertilizer, which means..."
He paused. Tapped the quill against his lips. His eyes went distant.
"Quick-fuse is the interesting one. Treated cotton fiber soaked in a potassium nitrate solution. Dried under controlled conditions."
Lyra leaned over his shoulder. Studied the emerging formulas with a focus she usually reserved for identifying threats.
The diagrams spread across the page like a spider’s web of knowledge. Each line connected to others in ways that seemed almost organic.
"You know how to make these, Master?"
His quill moved faster now. Added measurements and reaction temperatures in cramped notation along the margins.
"The question isn’t whether I can make them. The question is whether I can source the raw materials without triggering the same restrictions that blocked us today." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦
A ghost of a smile crossed his features.
"The quartermaster is watching for the finished products. For the components that appear on his restricted lists. But raw materials?" He looked up at her. "Raw materials are everywhere, if you know where to look."
Lyra’s heart stuttered.
There it was.
That light in his grey eyes. The cold, clear fire that burned away doubt and hesitation to leave only purpose behind.
"I need you to map the academy’s supply chains," he said. "Not just The Agora. That’s only the surface. The obvious layer they expect students to access."
He stood from the chair. The motion smoother now. His purpose restored.
"I need the kitchens, where they store saltpeter for preserving meat. The alchemical laboratories, where reagent-grade chemicals sit in poorly inventoried cabinets. The groundskeeper’s storage sheds, where they keep fertilizers and pest control compounds. Every source of basic materials. Every point where raw ingredients enter the academy’s systems."
"What exactly are we looking for, Master?"
The denied slip still lay on his desk. Its red stamp a reminder of the system’s barriers. Of the cage they were both trapped within.
But now it felt different to Lyra.
Not the crushing weight of failure but something lighter.
A challenge identified. A problem defined. The first step toward a solution her master would inevitably find.
"Ingredients." His voice took on a thoughtful tone that sent a shiver of something warm through her chest. Pride, perhaps. Or simply the joy of watching him work. "The academy’s restrictions focus on finished products because that’s how bureaucrats think. They see flash-powder as a single item on a list. Not as a collection of components that exist separately throughout these grounds."
He moved toward the door. Grabbed his coat from the hook beside it.
"I know exactly what to do. Come on, follow me."
Lyra fell into step behind him without hesitation.
Her heart was lighter than it had been since the quartermaster’s stamp had fallen. The denied slip remained on the desk. A monument to a problem already solved in her master’s mind.
She didn’t understand the formulas he had written. Didn’t comprehend the chemistry that seemed to flow from his thoughts like water from a spring.
But she understood this:
Where others saw walls, her master saw doors waiting to be opened.
And she would follow him through every one of them.
