Underneath the thick metal pylons of the gateway, Ashton is led into the holding cell of the incinerator. "It has not been touched since I sealed it... correct?"
"Yes Master Ashton, the only person who has been in here is Sir Olaf."
It wasn't the knights that responded, they were much too busy guarding Ashton. Their focus couldn't be heard in their breath but seen in their mana.
All of them were constantly enhancing their muscles with mana, a thin and continuous flow, ready to combust at any notice of threat.
The pinnacle of first-class knights, and at the peaks of their potential, at least in terms of mana.
[The only hope any of them has is in their technique, they are all over 30 and with intelligences rated under 50 but have high physical attributes. This is the limitation of most humans.]
It is why nobility and royalty have always stood with power in the world.
The difference in inherited intelligence.
When those with intelligence greater than nobles appeared from within a ruled class, or even with equal attributes, it was a struggle for them to gather influence.
Most fade into the magic towers.
The sight of the knights dressed in bronze armor head to toe, reminded Ashton of Sir Galen.
"Master Ashton, what will we be doing with the coffin? We will arrange for it however you desire."
"I will handle it myself, you are excused manager."
The colosseum had hundreds of managers each of them overseeing employees of certain areas. The smell of the Demonic Incinerator wasn't fresh, it was already starting to decompose and pollute the air in half of the arena.
The manager in charge of the seating was happy, [Finally, the smell will be gone from the bleachers], until he is grabbed on his shoulders by two knights.
Their grip didn't hurt, but it was firm. It was restraining.
The manager didn't notice the signal in Ashton's eyes, but the knights did.
Six of them opened a pathway to the pit between them, while two others grabbed the manager and took him outside.
[Why is it already rotting? I need it in a full cadaver]
The lid of the incinerators casket wasn't open, but it didn't need to be. It's smell was indicating enough, and it hastened Ashton into action.
Just like he saw with Tower Master Mitchell and his sword, Ashton tried to lift the casket from the ground with bare mana.
No magic circles or incantations, just the application of mana onto objects.
The casket despite being touched by his mana, wouldn't move.
[I can apply it in the interior of my body easily, but to grasp physical objects...]
His mana instead off seeping into his muscles and taking shape like water, or erupting in suppression like gas, became hard and gripped the casket like a solid.
[This isn't easy...] The calculation required to perform the application was minimal, it didn't demand the folding of mana into more of itself systematically like a spell.
What it did require though was focus, the layering on mana over itself.
Having seen the tower master's mana before his eyes, grab and render his sword a non-variable, was the cornerstone of his realization. Along with his own insights of application and scientific conversation with Sir Galen.
As he layered his mana over the casket, watching it hover and inch closer to him, Ashton realizes its potential.
He didn't compare himself to the skill of the tower master, he took his inspiration from him then discarded him.
Ashton was progressing quickly, while it took all his focus to take the casket from the arena, by the time he entered the forest he was a natural.
It wasn't just because he had already layered enough mana to lift the casket, he was aware of why it was required.
His mana was previously like a hand, made of smoke, trying grip the casket just to fold around it. He was treating the casket like something he had physical control over, but the casket wasn't his muscles.
[It was like playing a game while only having half of the instructions, so I made my own]
Ashton didn't know the theory behind the application, but he could feel what was needed. If application inside required his mana to mold, then control outside required something to mold to.
[Holding the casket would have been impossible if it wasn't created with mana. I had to grab hold of the slight magical signature from it, but what if it didn't have one?]
As the knights built the pyre for the Demonic Incinerator, Ashton tried to reach out and grab hold of the wood to help build. Yet, it wouldn't budge.
He couldn't layer his mana because there was nothing to mold to.
It was a limit, but one that Ashton was itching to explore.
[If the floor of popular theory is grabbing inanimate objects, and the ceiling is grabbing mana with mana... then what is the limit of my theory if the floor is grabbing hold of mana?]
Ashton reached the height of what experimentation he could accomplish alone, but the hypotheses in his mind were still racing.
"My Lord!" The white reflection of the moon glistening off the armor of a knight as he kneels return Ashton to the present from the world of focus.
Like all of the thoughts in his mind were transcribed onto paper and stored in a library inside of his mind, Ashton was keenly aware of where the knowledge was. It wasn't just his current train of thought he felt burying into his mind, as he walked towards the pyre he became more and more aware where all of his knowledge was stored.
As he walked, the knights he passed bowed, and with each one it felt like he was given a new set of keys to his consciousness.
Memories he had forgotten, ones he didn't know existed, all washed over him at once.
In a split second, it felt like he had relived his entire life over.
"Leave."
It wasn't an iron order like the knights have grown used to hearing, Ashtons voice was shaky.
But the command was still a command, despite its tone. The knights thought it was weird for only a moment, before standing and leaving.
Ashton felt nauseous for moment, just the focus of Invocation had drained him last night, and he relived it on top of everything else in his life.
However, after hurling his lunch, Ashton was in perfect health. The sudden shock had worn, and felt him feeling fresh. Not fresh like some fruit at its peak or a crop straight from the earth, it was freshness without spoil.
It was a gratifying feeling, one that he felt from reliving his Invocation without feeling its burden. He was writing notes in his mind and burying them in his library while it was still fresh and at the surface of his conscious.
While is mind was running like a factory, printing, storing and labeling his thoughts, he reached out and knocked the lid of the casket from the bucket.
[It's a shame you aren't whole, even if I rise you from your slumber, you will be too weak to serve me. This is truly goodbye]
As he lifted the casket holding the Demonic Incinerator, unable to grab its corpse, he turns it over and atop the pyre. Its heavy body crushes the wood beneath it as it falls, but its head rolls off and to Ashtons feet.
As he bended over to lift the head back into place, his mind finished its librarian work, and the Aether System lit up.
"Would you like to preform necromancy on the target?
Please confirm"