Elaine and Porter both had Tier 1 Cores; meanwhile, his was still at Tier 0. They were working hard to improve themselves, all to chase their dreams. He wasn’t going to get left behind in the dust. A higher Tier Core wasn’t necessary if he wanted to make the ultimate cheese. It did, however, speed things up considerably.

  Based on what he knew, expanding one’s Core required a lot of time and effort. And given the current circumstances, now seemed like the best time to do so.

  Maybe by the time he was done expanding his Core, the war would be over and everything would be back to normal.

  No, things wouldn’t be normal. They’d be better. The new expansion would allow him to make aged cheese, quite literally expanding the repertoire of cheese at his disposal.

  Only problem was that he didn’t know how to expand his Core. He had a rough idea about what the expansion should be about, just not how to do it. Good thing he knew how to open his mouth and ask questions.

  Colby looked up from his depressive spiral, searching the kitchen for his parents. The plate of scrambled cheddar and eggs was still in front of him, though steam no longer rose above it. He found his mother at the sink, cleaning up after a hearty breakfast. His father joined her—no idea where he had come from. While she washed the dishes, he helped to dry them off.

  “Mom. Dad. I want to expand my Core!”

  His parents stopped in their tracks, turning to look at each other. Their eyes met, and they shared a silent conversation only a married couple could have.

  “Colby, dear. Why exactly do you want to expand your Core?” his mother asked.

  “Because if I can’t make cheese right now, what if I took this time to prepare myself so that I can make more cheese in the future. I do need a bigger Core and a space to make aged cheese.”

  “I mean… you’re right. But do you really want to do this?”

  “Is there anything else I can do right now?”

  “Well, no,” his father said, scratching the side of his face. “It’s just that expanding your Core isn’t something you can do willy-nilly. You need a lot of time, effort, and patience. If not, things can go horribly wrong. Worst case, you’re crippled and can’t perform spells anymore.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard the stories. So, that’s why I’m here to ask for your help.”

  “That’s a good start,” his mother said. “But, Colby… you know about your predicament, right?”

  “I know. But I have to do it anyway. I don’t want to be stuck making fresh cheese for the rest of my life. As long as it involves cheese, I’m confident I can make it work.”

  His parents shared another look before placing the dishes down in the kitchen sink. They walked toward him, chairs scraping against the floor as they sat at the dining table.

  “Colby,” his mother said, staring into his eyes. “I’m going to ask you this again. Are you really sure you want to do this? Why don’t you give it a bit more thought? The last thing we want is for you to rush into things and regret it.”

  “Mom. I need to do this. It’s the only thing stopping me from going insane. You’ve already taken away my cheese. Please don’t take anything else.”

  She sighed, her gaze shifting to the uneaten plate of scrambled cheddar and eggs. A quiver in her lips, a twitch of her eyelids. “Okay, Colby. Let’s do this.”

  “Colby,” his father said. “Do you have a rough idea of what you want the expansion to be like?”

  “Kind of. I know it’s going to help with making aged cheese. I just don’t know whether I want it to be a cave or a cellar. What do you think?”

  “Well, I chose a cellar because of its consistency. It’s really easy to scale up and make multiple batches all with the exact same quality.”

  “I prefer caves,” his mother said. “It’s more natural and gives the cheese a more unique and complex flavor that you just can’t get from a controlled cellar.”

  “While taste is important, the most important thing about aging cheese is consistency,” his father said

  “I agree,” his mother said. “Mine are consistently delicious. While yours are consistently average.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean. The cheese you age may have their highs, but they also have their lows. Mine are always good. They come out the same each and every time. The most important thing about running a shop is consistency. Customers come back because they expect that today’s cheese will just be as good as tomorrow's.”

  “Shop, shmop. The only way to attract customers is to sell the best-tasting cheese possible. That’s only possible when they’re aged in a cave.”

  As his parents continued to argue about which method was better, Colby started to ponder. Why not combine the best parts of a cave and a cellar? It would be a cavar. Cellave? He could work on the name later; right now, he had to figure out how to expand his Core into something like that.

  “Mom. Dad.”

  “What!” both of them shouted in unison, snapping their heads at him. They panted, restraining the urge to shout at him even more.

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  “What?” they screamed again.

  “I’ve decided…”

  Colby paused, purposely dragging out the reveal. His parents leaned in closer, each hoping that he’d follow their path.

  “Both.”

  What?” they screamed together for a third time.

  “What do you mean both?” his father asked.

  “You mean a cave for your Tier 1 expansion, then a cellar for your Tier 2?”

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  “Or are you splitting it in half? Half of the expansion goes to a cave, the other a cellar?” his mother asked.

  “Wow, that actually makes a lot more sense than what I was thinking of, but no. I’m going to merge them together to get the best of both worlds!”

  “What!” they shouted again. “How?”

  “I’ll figure it out.” Colby shrugged. “First, teach me how to expand my Core.”

  His parents looked at each other once more, the anger on their faces flipping to concern.

  “Colby. This is a very important decision. You shouldn't be joking like this,” his father said.

  “I’m not. I’m completely serious.”

  “Maybe you should explain how Core Expansion works, then he’ll understand why.”

  “Okay. Colby, the way one expands their Core is by creating a Core Construct called the Core Expander. It is the simplest Core Construct to make and doesn't count towards your Core Capacity. To create it, go through the normal Core Construct Construction process, but with the intent to expand your Core. That’s it. Don’t do anything else. The construct will form on its own, taking on a form that best suits your personality.”

  “So, it shapes itself, not me shaping it? Sounds simple enough,” Colby said. “Is that it?”

  “Colby, please don’t interrupt your father. This is very important.”

  “Yes, Colby. This next part is the most important part. After the Core Expander is formed, you then need to supplement it with a clear intent of what the expansion will look like and its purpose. The easiest way to do that is by referencing something in the real world. The clearer the intent, the better the results.”

  “Once you’re confident, you can begin the Core Expansion process. The Core Expander will absorb your Mana to use as fuel and from there it’s up to you. The method the Core Expander chooses to expand the Core differs from people to people. I had to physically construct the expansion.”

  “Mine turned into a big cave filled with weird stuff that I had to clear out,” his mother said.

  He nodded along, his confidence shooting up one moment and plummeting the next. It sounded really simple yet extremely difficult at the same time, and he was struggling to peg where exactly on the toughness scale it landed.

  “But be careful. If your intent isn’t clear enough, best case, you just have a larger Core and more capacity for Core Constructs. At worst, the expansion will conflict with your spells, and you won’t be able to cast them anymore.”

  “Got it. I just need to have a very solid intention about both caves and cellars, then I can blend them together and get the best of both worlds.”

  “Colby,” his mother said sharply, worry overshadowing the reproach in her voice. She clasped his hands, eyes boring deep into his soul. “Cheese is your life. The last thing I want is for you to throw that away by blending two different concepts together.”

  “Look, Colby,” his father said. “I don’t care which option you choose. You can pick the cave, and I’ll still help you. Just please pick one, not both.”

  “Yeah, Colby. Just one,” his mother said. “You can choose the cellar. Please, Colby, just one.”

  Silence settled over the table. Colby stared down at the plate of scrambled cheddar and eggs once more, and for a moment, no one moved. Then his father pushed back his chair, legs scraping against the floor.

  Without a word, he ran out of the kitchen. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and less than a minute later, he came barrelling back. Clutched in his hands was a green scrapbook. He laid it on the dining table and flipped it open.

  “This is an important decision, Colby, so take your time. While you’re deciding, you can use these for reference,” his father said.

  The scrapbook opened to a page filled with images of cellars. Each showed rows upon rows of neat and orderly wooden shelves, enclosed by brick walls.

  What stood out the most were the notes written beside every photo: shelf dimensions, number of rows, number of shelves, how many standard-sized wheels of cheese fit per shelf, and what wood was used. There was the exact humidity and temperature of the cellar, and even the year it had been constructed.

  His father continued to flip through the scrapbook. The images shifted from cellars to caves. While there were still notes by the side, they had devolved into hurried little scribbles.

  One picture of a cave, featuring jagged stalactites hanging from the ceiling, had a single note: ‘cool, pokey rock’. Another read, ‘damp’ and the one next to it, ‘not that damp’. One picture was literally just a big, grey boulder with zero context or caption.

  “I want you to think carefully, Colby,” his father said. “Study the pictures here to form a clear image that you can give to the Core Expander,” his father said.

  “Normally, I’d say just go with what you feel, but I have to agree with your father. This is really important. Look at the images. Get the idea that this is for aging cheese stuck in your mind,” his mother said.

  “Got it.”

  “If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

  “But remember, Colby. This expansion is all about what you want out of it, not what we want. We’ll guide you, but not dictate how you should go about doing things,” his mother said.

  “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. And for being such awesome parents, here’s a reward.”

  Colby opened up his Inventory, placing the meagre supply of ingredients that the Supply Runner had delivered earlier this morning on the dining table.

  “Thanks, Colby,” his mother said with a soft smile.

  “Good luck, son,” his father added.

  They embraced him in a tight hug before loading the ingredients into their own Inventories. Then, they resumed clearing the dishes. The clinks of plates, the scrubbing sponge, and running water filled the kitchen. Meanwhile, he flipped through the scrapbook that his father had given him.

  How convenient. References for both cellars and caves neatly gathered in one place.

  Cave or cellar. Cellar or cave. His parents had insisted on only one, not both. But the idea of incorporating both was too tantalizing to resist. A combination of the best aspects of both caves and cellars: the unique natural flavors that only a cave could develop, mixed together with the high level of control a cellar provided.

  Would it be possible?

  Technically, yes. Anything was possible within one’s Core. It was just a matter of whether one had the skill to act on it.

  As he flipped through, an idea of what his expansion should look like began to form in his mind, but it was nothing concrete like what the images offered. Unless…

  He peeled off a photo of a cellar and held it in his left hand. In his right, a picture of a cave. Lifting them side by side, he squinted, crossing his eyes. The images started to shift. They blurred, melting into one another. Rock merged with brick, gloom with crystal-light. Natural and man-made fused until the distinction vanished.

  This was it. This was what he had to do.

  Colby cycled through the photos, mixing every possible combination of cave and cellar. Time slipped past in silence, nothing more than a foreign object in his endeavours.

  When he finally stopped, he had it. A hybrid of both worlds. The power of nature and mankind at his disposal.

  Wooden shelves lined with cheese between hanging stalactites and erupting stalagmites; carved stone walls molded into orderly bricks.

  This was how his Core would look.

  “I’m done!” Colby declared.

  Colby looked up from his work and realized that his parents had been sitting down with him the entire time—more accurately, they were passed out. Their arms crossed over the table like a makeshift pillow. The plate of scrambled cheddar and eggs was gone, replaced with two more dishes: cheese dumplings and six-cheese pizza.

  He glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning.

  That took a lot longer than he had anticipated. His stomach growled in protest, punching in painful hunger pangs for not filling it up with delicious cheese.

  Colby scarfed down the cold food as quietly as possible before washing the plates and setting them aside.

  The noise he made hadn’t woken his parents. It was a blessing and a curse.

  He didn't have the strength to carry them back to their bedroom, nor the ability to summon a really buff Knight-in-training to come to his rescue. But he did know how to grab the blankets from their room and drape them over them as they continued to sleep on the kitchen table.

  The Core Expansion process was extremely important. It was better to get enough rest before he attempted such a task.

  Tomorrow. That would be the day he finally got a Tier 1 Core.