by V. A. Lewis
The very possibility of spells being thrown about was considered ludicrous by any rational individual. No sane person believed that they could conjure matter out of nothing; to do so would require an absurd amount of energy, which was unfeasible without some sort of incredibly complex machine. Thus, magic was simply the imagination to me, and I became disillusioned.
My world was disenchanted, so I was too. Perhaps in another world, magic could exist.
Just imagine: a fantastical realm where people soared through the skies by their ownself, and not through some machinations they created; a wondrous reality without any hardship, where you could always solve all your problems; or just a regular world, but with… magic.
It was a beautiful dream. A place most children and adults would want to live in. To be able to just create food with the wave of a wand when you were hungry, or to just snap and teleport to wherever you were going if you were late.
A world with magic. A land of dreams. And a world I lived in.
Yes, I am in a fantasy.
After I died, I found myself in another world. One where magic existed. One without any problems. One where all my dreams could come true—
Why do I have to read all this?! I slammed my head down. The book clattered on the table and nearly fell to the floor. I rubbed my forehead, as I groaned. Ouch. Should not have done that.
I just needed to give myself a reality check; I had to make sure I was not making all this up. A pinch to the arm would have sufficed, but it does not convey the same theatrics a forehead slam did! And it was definitely a warranted one!
Instead of being this marvelous thing that was completely incomprehensible—- true wonder that was enchanting and extraordinary— they…. they turned magic into a science!
Just— why? Magic is supposed to be magic! Not studying and books!
It was just so much reading. I mean— sure, I did plan to go to law school in my previous life, and that required a lot of reading. There was a lot of scrutiny and analysis of benign text that came with being a lawyer, after all. But this was different! I was reading about magic!
And it was so terribly boring.
I slumped over in my chair, and looked around the room; I was alone. After I proved myself to Victor some days or a week ago by passing the test— much to his surprise— he handed me a bunch of books to read when I asked him to tutor me. Apparently I had to learn the theory behind magic so my fundamentals would be better. Which is nonsense! I literally can’t even right now— magic is not supposed to be a science, but… a feeling!
Or at least, that was what I thought. That was not the case in this world; Victor told me there were various different aspects to magic— differing fields of spellcraft.
Victor himself was more of a generalist, though that was because he was still a fledgling Dark Acolyte. He was only a Disciple. It was only the first step into the hierarchy of the Dark Crusaders leadership, but becoming one at his age meant he was talented. He did have a partiality towards Pyromancy— fire magic— since it held quite the destructive potential, despite being a generalist.
Gerritt on the other hand practiced Necromancy, using the mana inside of corpses to reanimate them as puppets for fighting; that meant he could raise Zombies and Ghouls to fight for him.
"What about ghosts?"
I remembered asking the Orc the question last week..
"Like phantoms, wraiths, and other spectral horrors?"
"Hrmph, I don’t think that is possible," he said. "All souls return to the Goddess. I can not command them with magic just like how I can not command you or any other living being. Only the Goddess can do that."
"Huh." I raised an eyebrow. "Well at least you’ve still got Zombies, right? Those guys can easily overrun any city!"
"What do you mean, Melas? Zombies are ineffective. Barely more than fodder."
"But they can spread quickly... right?" I was met with a blank face; Gerritt just cocked his head in confusion. I tried to elaborate. "You know, Zombies can infect other people and turn them into more Zombies— like if they bite you… that’s how it works, isn’t it?"
"I’m afraid not. Zombies are merely the remains of newly dead bodies. Empty husks that are more durable than old skeletons. If a Zombie bites someone, they bleed— and maybe get sick from some disease the dead body carried— but nothing more. Perhaps if a Zombie kills a man, I could then raise his body too for battle; but if I raised too many Zombies, it'll eventually become too exhausting for me to upkeep."
"Oh, I see."
"Yes. Perhaps I should be glad Zombies don’t do that. It’ll drain me quickly if that was the case. Of course, if I were a truly powerful necromancer, I’d be able to raise an army quickly that way. But alas, I am not one, and neither do Zombies do that. But it is a fascinating idea you proposed. Where did you hear about such a concept?"
"Uhhhhh… I don’t know," I laughed nervously, "probably an old-wives’ tale or something from back in my village. You know how villagers like to gossip, am I right?"
Anyways, Gerritt was telling the truth when he said he was not a powerful Necromancer. He explained to me how he was not even a Dark Acolyte like Victor was.
To be given the title of Dark Acolyte meant you were part of the Infernalis; it carried with it a status that placed you above even the leaders of the individual cells of the Dark Crusaders spread throughout the continent— that was why Victor could order Gerritt around despite the latter being a Commander. And to become a Dark Acolyte required meeting certain criteria.
"What is that criteria?" I asked Victor a day ago. "Why are you a Dark Acolyte but Gerritt is not?"
The blue haired man flicked his hair back dramatically, and grinned. "Talent," he said. "Gerritt may be more experienced than me in magic, but that’s because he has decades of experience with spellcasting. But he does not have talent. I do, and that’s why I was given the title."
And it was indeed quite a prestigious title.
During the time of the Demon Lord— even before the Holy Xan Empire existed— anyone who could cast magic was called a dark acolyte. It was not so much a title, but more of a label; a word with even worse implications than being a heretic.
It was an appropriate term, considering the darkness that came over Hell— the lands the Demons came from— caused by the blackness of the soil and the earth from casting too much magic over thousands of years. And more than that— beyond the superficial origins of the title— they were called dark acolytes to paint them as enemies of the Goddess. Because what was more diametrically opposed to the Goddess of Light than a follower of darkness?
So anyone who did magic were called dark acolytes by the Church. But back then, they were mostly Demons. And Demons, with both their long life spans— the longest of any sapient species in this world, even before their discovery of magic— were masters of spellcasting.
By the time of the Final Holy War, there were very few Demons left. Yet, a single Demon could change the course of a battle entirely— even with the Holy Xan Empire’s newly discovered mana weapons.
The Demon Lord himself was so powerful, it was said he once crushed five armies sent against him in a single day. Even when the Great Hero Xander confronted him, he could not defeat the Demon Lord alone.
It took the combined efforts of all the greatest fighters in the world to defeat the Demon Lord, such as: the First Saintess, Xanthe; the Elf Princess, Qabul; and the Demon Lord’s very own daughter, Elara. Oh and they were all in his imperial harem too, but that’s only tangentially related to this.
Point was: Demons were incredibly powerful, and most of the dark acolytes back then were Demons. So there came a connotation with the title for anyone who did magic— that those who were dark acolytes were truly powerful. And it was not like the Demons ever rejected their association with darkness; in fact, they embraced it as their own, and argued that the Goddess was not a deity of light, but a deity of darkness. Which… kind of started the whole Holy Wars thing.
So the Dark Crusaders appropriated the term from history into their own organization, accepting anyone gifted in magic into the Infernalis as a Dark Acolyte. And Victor was truly a genius. He might have been a new Dark Acolyte, but that did not discount his talent.
Meanwhile, most people— like the Goblins in our camp— were average in regards to using magic; they could cast basic spells and some may even use stronger ones like Victor’s Fireball. But that was a rarity, and would take an average spellcaster months to even years to learn similar spells of that level.
This was especially relevant when considering the short lifespan of Goblins: they had far less time than Humans, let alone the likes of Elves or Demons, to learn magic, thus making it almost counterintuitive for them to learn spells, since they could always use a mana tool to achieve the same results.Like that simple Magic Bolt spell I knew; it was probably as effective as— or possibly even less effective than— a gun.
And that spell— that basic spell which I learned in the moment back in Bys— the one I could probably cast 70% of the time before I even had any practice— it took the average spellcaster a month to learn.
It was like learning how to work mana crystals in that it took a lot of time and effort into getting used to doing it. Victor himself— with all the studying he did beforehand he started spellcasting— took a week to learn how to cast the bolt of magic. And it took another week of practicing before he could cast it consistently!
Learning magic was supposed to be hard. Take Magic Missile, the upgraded version of Magic Bolt which exploded upon contact, for example: it was not even something I had mastered yet. My first attempt at casting it was a success, but subsequent tries did not always go well. Apparently I was lucky that the failures did not blow up in my face— like what was a hazard for those learning how to use mana crystals for the first time.
Overall, I would say my success rate was slightly above 50%. But after blowing up a handful of wooden targets, some stalactites fell from the ceiling above, so Gerritt made me stop. He did not want me to cause the cave to collapse in on us, which I wholeheartedly agreed on.
Still, it was suffice to say, I was… pretty gifted in magic.
I didn’t even need the aid of a magical staff like Victor had to accelerate the time it took me to cast spells; Victor timed how long it took me to create a Magic Bolt, and he came to the conclusion I was twice as fast as any beginner capable of casting the same spell.
Magic did not necessitate some sort of medium to pass through of course; instead, it was like a crutch. It was something most people new to magic would use before they finally begin to specialize to simply accustom themselves to doing magic.
There were also things people did when casting a spell. Examples included striking a pose or saying some sort of incantation; it was supposed to help you focus and make it easier for the spell to form. The book I was currently reading had only some spells shown, with diagrams and descriptions to guide the learner.
Like if you took Fireball for example— Victor did it simply by pointing his staff in a direction. But someone who was not as gifted as him would follow the instructions in the book.
First, you were supposed to take a deep breath and aim your wand or staff at your target. Then you would start drawing a circle in the air, while imagining a ball of flame in your mind. And lastly, it was not necessary— but recommended— that you say the words ‘Fireball’ once the magic circle finished forming in the air.
It almost sounded stupid— I got embarrassed just imagining myself doing it. But there was a science to this: all those steps helped someone grasp at the mana in the world around them and turn it into a really powerful spell. Because at the end of the day, magic was simply a feeling.
I was only glad that they did not begin categorizing spells into something like tiers. That would take away all the magic behind… magic. At least, to me, I thought.
There were some spellcasters who vehemently pushed for the idea: they suggested a kind of tiering system where the simplest spell would be called a Tier 0 spell, and the most advanced spells would be called a Tier 10 spell. But it wasn’t frequently used— it was far from the prevalent form of magic theory currently in place.
But in this system, there were classifications to magic which ranked Tier 0 spells as like the light spell Victor used when we entered the cave, while a Tier 1 spell would be more like Magic Bolt, and Magic Missile would be a low Tier 3 spell.
I thought that the fact that I was already able to cast such high level spells would be a good thing, yet that was apparently a problem. At least, according to what Victor told me on the first day he started tutoring me.
"You mean to tell me you can not do a Light, or even a Sound spell?" Victor stared at me, flabbergasted, when I told him about the spells I knew.
"Um, yes?" I said as I scratched my head.
"And the first spell you learned was in Telekinesis— one of the most complex fields of magic that even I struggle to learn? Albeit Levitation is one of the most basic of Telekinetic spells, but the variation you described sounds a bit more complex. An Invisible Hand variant?" He shook his head. "It doesn’t matter— it is still advanced for a basic spell. But it was your first ever spell?!"
I blinked "...yes?"
The young man’s eyes bore into me, and I shuffled my feet uncomfortably.
"Look, I don’t know what else to tell you. Maybe I’m just gifted, that’s all."
Victor snorted. "Gifted would be the understatement of the century. Even genius fails to describe the level of talent you’ve displayed at your age. Perhaps— a prodigy? Ah, or something more. However, you can not rely on your brilliance alone— as abundant as it may be— when it comes to magic."
"Let me guess: I can't just jump straight to fancy big magical spells, and have to start with smaller ones first."
"In a sense, yes." The dark acolyte ignored my loud sigh at his confirmation, and continued. "Without the proper training, or the proper understanding of what magic can and can not do, you will always plateau. No matter how gifted— as you describe it— you are, there will come a point where unrefined talent meets its end. That's where the fundamentals— the theory behind magic and the basic spells— come in."
"I see." I nodded my head slowly, knowing what came next.
"That is why"— Victor reached into his bag, and slammed a pile of books onto the table— "you will be reading up on all of this."
My eyes bulged at the mountain of books placed on top of one another. They were thick, but not a thousand pages thick like some of the stuff I would have ended up reading when I went to university; still, I wanted to groan.
Maybe it’ll take… three weeks if I really try to finish it all? the hopeful thought crossed my mind, before Victor spoke up again.
"Ah, these are just my personal travel stash of books for the history and basics of magic. I’m sure Commander Gerritt has some more he could lend you. and I’ll ensure he asks around if anyone else has anything that would be useful for you in your studies. Once you’re finished with all of that, I’ll have you practice a select few of those spells for a test I’ll set up.
"You’ll have to retake the test until you pass it before I’ll let you access the more advanced books and test you on those too. There’s no rush— read at your own leisure. We’ll only be meeting once every other day for me to track your progress. Just ensure you don’t go straight into casting powerful spells, because the failure to cast said spells could sometimes turn deadly."
And with that warning, that was how I found myself in this situation— sitting in a tent and reading.
Just… reading.
I closed the book, pushed my chair back, and stood up. I was finished reading that book; it was three hundred pages, but I was finally done. It was the third and final book in a series of basic introductory grimoires that contained more history than actual spellcasting in it.
I could’ve been done with it sooner if I was not meticulously studying by taking notes
and the like. Plus, it was not in English, my true native language; I definitely would have completed it sooner if it was a book back in my former world. Or I’d have just listened to the audiobook. That way I could multitask and be more productive!
But that was not possible here; or if it was, I did not have access to such resources. So after doing a few basic stretches— while ensuring that no one would barge in on me this time— I reached for and opened the next book, The Thauma.
It was regarding one of the easiest school of magic to get into, yet one of the hardest to master: Thaumaturgy. It manipulated pure magical energy— which was magic in its simplest form; this was what made it so easy to pick up, and also what made it so complex later on.
The Thauma was written by the Demon Lord himself, back when he was trying to spread the concept of magic to other species’. It was dense, but relatively simple to understand as a result. In fact, the paper with directions on how to learn Magic Missile that Victor gave me as a test was from a page in this book.
I knew three spells in the field of Thaumaturgy at the moment. The first two I knew were, of course, Magic Bolt and Magic Missile, while the third was something I recently learned about despite casting it weeks ago— Dispel Magic.
Dispel Magic was considered a rather difficult spell to learn— not because it was complicated— but because it broke down the bonds of the mana particles in other spells to disperse it. To learn the spell required another person to cast magic for you to try and dispel, which made it quite difficult to learn… in the past.
It was far easier to learn now than back when this book was written. Victor wrote a note remarking how with the invention of mana tools, it was far easier to practice this spell on mundane items like a mana lamp or another simple mana tool. However, this thus also made people complacent.
Dispel Magic did not automatically dissipate an opposing spell— that was not how it worked. Instead, it was a struggle; you were trying to break someone else’s hold over their own magic. If their control over magic was better than yours, Dispel Magic would fail. But with practicing on mana tools, there was less resistance to the spell.