Episode 49. Back to Basics
“I wish you wouldn’t think of me as the same as those other Pages.”
“Pages? So that’s what you call ‘those things.’”
“Of course. I’m on a different level.”
“If you’re an artifact with enough ego to materialize, I suppose that might be true.”
Priya gazed at the black-haired boy with calm eyes.
He looked to be around Binnaeril’s age, but unlike the cute little kid, for some reason he exuded a gloomy air.
“Of course. Shall I introduce who I am?”
“The likes of you have a name?”
Veritas paid no mind to Priya’s sarcastic tone and, with an exaggerated flourish of his arm, introduced himself.
“I am the chronicle of all history and the great encyclopedia of all magic that exists. I am the diary of every researcher who left a record and the very aggregate of knowledge itself. People call me the ‘Book of Truth.’”
Priya couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh at the flamboyant introduction, like that of an extreme method actor.
“The aggregate of knowledge? The great encyclopedia of magic? What an arrogant name.”
Priya filled her pipe with tobacco and lit it.
“Listen, I don’t care what or who you are, or what abilities you have. Just stop bothering this kid and leave.”
“Why should I?”
“Are you asking because you don’t know? I’m well aware of the fate of those entranced by cursed objects.”
“Fate? What kind of fate?”
Priya’s eyes wandered into the distance.
“One’s humanity is slowly eroded. And in the end, only an empty husk devoid of emotion remains.”
“You speak as if you’ve seen it.”
“…I have.”
Because Nunnaeril had changed like that.
“But it’s amusing. Wasn’t it ultimately you who made Nunnaeril that way?”
The Book of Truth smiled thinly and prodded at Priya’s wound.
It was true. She herself was the one who had given Nunnaeril the cursed object.
“They call you the Book of Truth, yet you seem to know every little thing. Are you sure you’re not the Book of Voyeurism?”
Veritas didn’t react to Priya’s sharp retort.
He maintained his own pace and only spat out what he wanted to say.
“But what you know isn’t the truth. That Nunnaeril changed like that was merely the result of his own choice.”
“What do you know?”
“Do you really think the Page made him that way? No, even if you took that power away, Nunnaeril would remain the same.”
“What does that mean? You can… steal away an artifact’s curse?”
The Book of Truth smiled triumphantly.
“Were you pretending to know while being ignorant of even that? There is a way to steal a Page’s power.”
Priya sat blankly, not even noticing that the tobacco in her pipe had burned to ash.
“It means there’s a way to return your lover, Nunnaeril, to how he was.”
Veritas giggled.
“Curious? Shall I tell you?”
Binnaeril checked his mana capacity and slowly organized the magic he could use, starting from the basics.
Tier 1 basic magic. Destruction, Piercing, Flash, Defense, and Water Drop magic.
Tier 2 magic. Stone Spear, Acceleration, Strength, Freezing, and Gale magic.
If he borrowed Veritas’s mana, he could cast Tier 3 or higher magic, but the list of magic he could use right now was only that much.
“Truly unimpressive.”
After sequentially chanting the usable spells, Binnaeril realized how few spells he could actually use.
It was just as Priya had said.
Aside from utilizing elemental magic or generating physical force, there was nothing else.
If he were a painter, his painting would have been nothing but achromatic colors.
That wasn’t the only problem.
Binnaeril couldn’t use fire magic at all.
Perhaps due to trauma regarding his mother, fire magic was difficult to approach.
“Then let’s solve this first.”
The magic Priya had shown him was too high-level for Binnaeril to practice immediately.
Binnaeril decided to conquer fire magic first.
The methodology for casting magic was already all in Binnaeril’s head.
He had been a bookworm in Elfenbain since childhood.
It took Binnaeril less than ten days to overcome his trauma and handle fire magic skillfully.
Moreover, Binnaeril became able to use simple Tier 3 magic on his own.
It was a remarkable growth rate.
“It’s thanks to being able to pour all my time into cultivating mana.”
Here, Binnaeril didn’t need to eat or sleep.
If he hit a wall while practicing magic, he sat and rested; if his mana ran out, he took a break.
“The Spirit Breathing Method also helped tremendously with rest.”
He had given the meditation method learned in the Cat Tribe’s village the name “Spirit Breathing Method.”
The Spirit Breathing Method cooled Binnaeril’s head in place of sleep within this dream from which he could not wake.
“Now, the next step is…”
Mana naturally increased as one handled magic.
Just as stamina naturally increased as one trained in swordsmanship.
Binnaeril thought that if he trained repeatedly, he would naturally be able to handle Tier 4 magic as well.
“Then shall I try increasing the variety of magic I can use?”
He was already sufficiently accustomed to elemental magic like fire, lightning, earth, wind, and cold.
Priya had advised him not to underestimate the potential of magic.
‘But where should I start…?’
Determining that was his first task.
Cutting, chopping, burning, electrocuting, freezing, falling, shattering…
The illusion of Dominique Siller that Priya had created was suffering hardships today without fail.
More than a month had passed since Binnaeril entered Priya’s dream.
Perhaps forty days? Or fifty? He couldn’t tell.
In a world without day or night, it was difficult to keep track of dates.
And that time had been enough for Binnaeril to refine his own magic.
He had once had such a conversation with Veritas in the library of Elfenbain.
‘Magic is the belief that materializes imagination.’
Only now did Binnaeril barely begin to understand those words.
Magic is the power of imagination. No matter how unrealistic, if one’s mana and willpower are strong enough to realize it, anything can be done.
For example.
Fetching an object out of reach was relatively easy magic.
In Elfenbain, such magic was called telekinesis.
But using the same magic on a living creature was several times more difficult.
Whether monster or human, living beings possess the will to resist and move on their own.
Therefore, the basic magic taught in Elfenbain simply taught how to generate physical force or utilize elements.
Because that method was overwhelmingly easier for learning magic.
That Binnaeril had grown accustomed to such magic was a kind of systemic trap.
Having learned magic through the easiest method, he had come to insist on only that method.
So Binnaeril started from breaking his own prejudices.
The first thing he began practicing was magic utilizing shadows.
He trained in methods of ambushing by granting physical force to shadows themselves, and in magic that subdued enemies by using shadows like afterimages.
Magic that dragged and swallowed opponents into shadows, like what Priya had shown, was still beyond his ability.
Once magic handling shadows became somewhat familiar, Binnaeril felt the need to organize his arsenal.
Just as it was important to awaken to various ways of utilizing magic, he thought it was also important to specialize the weapons he held.
The weapon Binnaeril honed was the most basic of basics: Tier 1 Piercing magic.
“Fast and effective.”
Binnaeril smirked.
Back to basic. It was because he remembered a certain professor at Elfenbain who had emphasized the basics until he was blue in the face.
‘What matters in actual combat isn’t how accurately you realize the magic you imagine. Throw away all fancy and complex concepts! Simple and fast magic is unconditionally effective.’
Words Pierre Blanchet had shouted so many times they could have formed calluses in one’s ears.
“Only now do I understand the true meaning, Professor.”
Binnaeril thought of Dominique Siller.
In fights against opponents stronger than himself, fancy and complex magic hadn’t decided victory.
The more he returned to basics, the easier it was to increase power and speed.
Binnaeril understood that basic magic capable of creating opportunities was far more important than a trump card that left him exhausted after a single use.
“Shoot.”
Kiiing—Pang!
What Binnaeril chanted wasn’t simple Piercing magic.
He added rotation to increase power and shortened the length of the chant.
Not only that.
He had internalized the entire process of conceptualizing, forming, and firing the magic into a conditioned reflex.
He had taken a hint from Priya’s pipe.
Priya had said she used inhaling pipe smoke as a trigger instead of chanting.
If compared to a knight, would drawing a sword be, for her, taking a drag from her pipe?
It was a good idea.
Most chants were long in order to concretize the image of the magic through language.
Binnaeril dramatically compressed the process of conceptualizing, infusing mana, and manifesting.
So that he could manifest magic with a single word in any situation.
Binnaeril gave his self-improved Piercing magic a new name: “Magic Bullet.”
His Magic Bullet shattered Dominique’s head.
He had raised a Tier 1 Piercing magic to a satisfying level of power through improvement and training.
Moreover, the Magic Bullet had the advantage of being easy to modify.
If he imbued the Magic Bullet with flame, it became an explosive round; if imbued with cold, it could make the struck enemy shudder.
And finally, a hidden trump card.
“Shoot from the shadows.”
At a moment the enemy couldn’t predict, he could fire the Magic Bullet from their shadow.
Having tested various Magic Bullets, Binnaeril smiled in satisfaction.
He had achieved sufficient results.
Binnaeril thought he had truly been reborn as a magician here.
And at the same time, he realized that he had had countless teachers.
Professor Pierre Blanchet and Dean Angelo Giulio, the Spirit Zilp and Spirit Priest Jineulbaram of Hohenberg, and Priya Merjina of the Thornwinter Wetlands.
Without their advice and teachings, he wouldn’t have grown.
He hadn’t learned as wide a variety of magic as Priya had wanted, but it didn’t matter.
Because he had realized how to develop his own magic.
Binnaeril judged that it was now time to leave Priya’s dream.
Though his sense of dates was gone, roughly a hundred days must have passed.
All that remained was to call Priya, the owner of the dream, and escape.
Binnaeril called that name for the first time in a while.
“Noona.”
Binnaeril called that name once again for the first time in a while.
“Priya-noona.”
…?
He called again, but there was no response at all.
“Priya Merjina-noona…?”
Priya remained silent.
Binnaeril muttered.
“Can you let me out of here… please?”