Chapter 277: Worth Studying
Kamail proposed a solution for a high-powered long-range weapon. From Galwin’s perspective, this plan might not completely solve the “cannon” problem, but at least it could partially fill the biggest gap in Cecil’s army.
Cecil’s soldiers already possessed formidable personal armaments, giving them an absolute advantage on the traditional battlefield of this era—one where soldiers fought hand-to-hand, life and death. But for Galwin, who carried memories from Earth, a modern army wasn’t truly complete without heavy weaponry that could decisively overpower manpower and shift the balance of battle on a larger scale.
Against the monsters of the magical tide, sheer numbers alone were unreliable. Only overwhelming firepower could give humanity a fighting chance to survive.
Still, even if Kamail’s plan was feasible, Galwin hadn’t given up on developing a projectile weapon. This world was full of strange magical materials, and the ruins of Gondor held countless unpredictable threats. A single type of weapon couldn’t handle the ever-changing battlefield. For the cautious Galwin, kinetic weapons were simply more reassuring.
After reviewing the various issues that arose during the defense, finalizing troop adjustments, training, and propaganda details, Galwin exhaled and turned to Hetty. “How’s Rebecca doing?”
“No major problems,” Hetty replied, her expression oddly mixed—somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. “She just overexerted her mental energy and ended up sleeping for half a day. She’s rarely ever drained like that. That girl’s mental and magical reserves are far beyond normal—she could throw hundreds of fireballs a day without tiring. This time, she really went overboard.”
In this world, mental energy and magical reserves were two key indicators of a person’s spellcasting talent, each serving different roles. Simply put, mental energy governed control over magic and the ability to sense magical power, determining a caster’s skill and stability in continuous spellcasting. Magical reserves, on the other hand, were the actual energy consumed when casting spells, dictating how much magic a person could expend over time. Usually, these two indicators were balanced—rarely would someone have mental energy far exceeding their reserves, or vice versa.
Of course, exceptions existed. Take Santis, a level-two arcanist teaching in the territory—his magical reserves were far lower than his mental energy.
Rebecca was an odd girl, but her development in these two areas was normal, even stronger than most mages. Her problem was a natural shortage of “spell slots,” causing casting defects—she was basically the absent-minded one in the mage community.
So when Rebecca recklessly used the magic network as her magical reserve, her mental energy couldn’t handle the strain—and it was severe. But you couldn’t blame her; the magic network was a brand-new thing. Ordinary mages never had the chance to control such vast energy. Most would be considered rich just to hold a magic crystal and cast a few high-level spells. The city-level magic network in the territory could overload countless magic crystals…
Luckily, the girl’s stubborn head was really tough, and humans had a self-protection mechanism—if you can’t handle it, you pass out—otherwise, things could have gone seriously wrong.
“She’s always been reckless,” Galwin said helplessly. “But this time, her recklessness gave us an idea for a new weapon.”
“Speaking of Miss Rebecca, there’s something I’ve always been curious about,” Kamail suddenly said. “She only knows one spell, right? The fireball?”
Hetty nodded. “Yeah, just that one. And she can’t learn any others.”
“But her fireball has so many forms and… levels,” Kamail said, puzzled and thoughtful. “I’ve seen her create small fireballs, large ones, fireballs like fire explosions, even one bigger than the city gate this time. I’ve also seen her roll two fireballs the size of bird eggs in her hands like toys… Has anyone taught her these?”
“She’s turned fireballs into a kind of fidget toy?!” Galwin was shocked, then coughed twice. “No one taught her—and who in their right mind would study such crazy fireball tricks? She just messes around on her own.”
After all, the girl didn’t know anything but fireballs. If she wasn’t experimenting with those, what else would she do?
Kamail looked even more curious. “Has she had this ability since she was little?”
After Galwin and Hetty confirmed, the ancient mage finally voiced his real question: “Do you think fireball spells could have so many variations?”
“…Actually, I was curious about that a long time ago,” Hetty said after a pause. “I even took her to see a famous grand mage in the southern region, but even that master couldn’t explain what was wrong with Rebecca’s magical talent. She only knows how to roll fireballs, but somehow she can create all kinds of incredible techniques with them…”
Galwin glanced at Hetty silently, thinking that under his guidance, everyone in the territory had come to accept that fireballs were “rolled” now—when not long ago, they still called it “casting”…
“I sense a raw and pure magical fluctuation in Rebecca’s fireballs,” Hetty continued, her tone growing urgent. “I suspect that what looks like a fireball spell is actually just her forcibly creating a high-temperature effect with massive magical power. Because a sphere is the easiest magical structure to stabilize, this high-temperature energy cluster takes the form of a fireball…”
“Kamail, have you figured out what’s wrong with Rebecca’s magic talent?” Hetty asked eagerly.
Though she often scolded Rebecca, it was clear she cared deeply for her niece.
“No, I can’t pinpoint the root cause of her strange casting talent,” Kamail said slowly. “But I suspect… she doesn’t actually know the fireball spell. However, I don’t think this is a ‘casting defect.’ If her fireball is a more fundamental form of magical release, it means she’s broken through the traditional mage’s limits of ‘spell levels’ and ‘skills.’ For her, the fireball isn’t a level one spell, nor level two or three. If we can understand the principle behind her magic, our research into the nature of magic itself might take a big step forward.”
Galwin finally understood why Kamail was so obsessed with this question—after the successful development of the magical energy obelisk, Galwin had bombarded him with a series of “whys,” sparking the ancient mage’s passion for studying the essence of magical power. Now, he wanted to investigate any abnormal magical phenomenon he encountered.
Come to think of it… Rebecca’s strange fireball talent was indeed worth studying.
“Let’s wait until Miss Rebecca recovers,” Kamail said, quickly cooling down from his researcher’s excitement. “There’s still so much unknown. I need to reorganize my work plan.”
After the meeting ended, Galwin and the others gradually left the council hall, and soon the room fell silent.
Kamail stayed behind. As he floated up from his seat, he heard a faint noise beneath the table. A long tail first appeared over the edge, sweeping back and forth twice before Tyr rubbed her eyes and climbed up.
“Haah…” The sea witch seemed to have napped during the latter half of the meeting and was still a bit dazed. “Everyone’s gone?”
She stretched her upper body vigorously, her tail snapping straight almost to the wall. After a lazy yawn, she shook her hair contentedly. “Back to sleep, back to sleep…”
Kamail watched her, realizing she hadn’t noticed him, and broke the silence. “Miss Tyr, please wait.”
“Huh? Someone’s still here?” Tyr blinked slowly and looked back. “Oh, the glowing one—you were asleep too?”
“I stayed behind,” Kamail replied stiffly, not one for jokes. “Miss Tyr, I want to talk with you.”
“About what?” Tyr lazily lifted her eyelids. “If it’s about researching our sea witch magic or technology, forget it. Our spells and tech are completely different from you non-elemental beings—more different than humans and elves.”
“No, it’s about those… aberrations.”
Tyr just wanted to get back to sleep. “Aberrations? Then go find Galwin. He’s the expert. He died in this field in his past life.”
“It’s about what you said on the city wall today,” Kamail’s eyes flickered with arcane light. “You mentioned that aberrations are ‘failures’—creatures that didn’t fully mutate in the magical tide. They weren’t born from the tide but were transformed by it… Is that right?”
“I didn’t say it so definitely, but that’s roughly it,” Tyr stopped yawning and raised her upper body, almost looking down at the floating Kamail. “No wonder I felt such a strong energy reaction from you back then… You said you were scared by one of Rebecca’s spells, but an ancient mage like you isn’t easily frightened by a spell.”
Kamail said nothing, tacitly agreeing.
“I’ve heard Galwin’s stories about the Defiant Fortress and your plans back then. It touched me… so I can guess what answers you want from me,” Tyr slowly lowered herself, then suddenly reached into her abdomen—Kamail watched in horror as her torso, arm, and part of her clothing turned into a watery substance. She fumbled inside for a moment, then pulled out a fragment of bone with an ominous dark red hue. She handed it to Kamail. “You’ll have to find the answers yourself. This bone shard came from an aberration I found on the city wall. Its chaotic magical energy has been purified by me. You can study it safely, but you must hurry—it’s disintegrating every moment.”
(Here’s a recommendation for a book full of creativity and imagination: Xia Hua’s new novel I’m Really Immortal, already 800,000 words and open to editing. The premise? Well, the title says it all—the protagonist is an immortal living in modern society…)
(End of chapter)