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An empty book, a needle, a cork, a glass of water, and a lock of her own hair. The objects had been carefully arranged over an empty chalk circle. Needle on the cork in the glass, empty book adjacent, and hair in the water. The shrouded figure drew deft shapes and lines. The complexity of the circle only increased as time went on. Despite the speed that the figure moved at, each stroke was calculated and skillful as if commanded by a millennia of experience. Once finished with the inner circle, incomprehensible symbols filled the outside. To most, they looked like irregular lines recklessly scrawled by a child. After the circle was filled, the woman rose from her hands and knees to marvel at her work.

[color=FFC446]"Good enough,"[/color] her tired, raspy voice rang out to no one. She carelessly tossed the chalk away, it fading into smoke before vanishing from sight. The markings began to glow, almost humming with an otherworldly energy. The needle began to spin. First, it was slow as it rebounded from side to side looking for its target. Each bounce increased in frequency. Suddenly, it stopped. Was it the right direction? Before she could check, the blasted off from the cork it was resting on, flying through the air before impaling a copy of [i]Isekai Princess Lovers: Can Love Bloom After You Are Reincarnated?[/i]

It wasn't really going to be that easy, huh? No matter how she wrote the circle, no matter how many rules she injected for the spell to function, it never quite pointed in the direction of one of her grimoires. It always pointed to something else. Though, flying off and impaling her shoujo manga was a new one. With a great sigh, Ruru rubbed out a small portion of the circle with her thumb. Like the chalk, the markings turned to smoke and faded away. 

If she had one of her grimoires, she could easily chain her searches to find the others. Getting that first one was always the biggest problem. Who knew what sort of abhorrent fuckery was in the process because of those tomes? Someone could be trying to go all Báthory with the knowledge contained in one of them. No, blood transfusions like that were for insane billionaires and bug chasers. The secrets to her immortality were locked pretty tight in between all of the other inane trite, thankfully. Plus, the chances that someone could actually read what was held in those books were slim to none. There was even a good chance that some normie would have bought it at a yard sale and used it as a coffee table book.

Grabbing the cup of her hair (more of a mug, really) and doing her best not to gag at the sight of it, she entered her washroom, dumped it in the toilet, and flushed it down the drain. The modern times were definitely great; one could flush all of their problems away for someone else to deal with. 

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't spend the entirety of the the night shitposting and playing her video games. No, the overwhelming sense of responsibility (if you could call it that) she possessed forced her to continue her search. Maybe if she had the right materials, the could be improved. Condensed soul essence always made for a great source of energy. Maybe some shmuck in zero time would have one of her artifacts. Who knew? The only thing she knew was that she'd have to enter that bothersome place instead of watching fine 90's cinema.

But first, preparations. Equipping herself with a fanny pack full of her magic sticks and a thermos of hot water, she left her small apartment to raid a local convenience store for supplies.

Mostly instant coffee, which she ran out of.

But supplies nonetheless.