Chapter 297: Kamail and Santis

As the final rune connected with the entire formation, the rune base on the experimental platform instantly sprang to life.

Mana was channeled through the platform’s transmission device into the base. The standard runes, specially designed for laboratory testing and secured firmly onto the base, lit up one by one. Mana flowed orderly through the magical materials, transforming into a specific spell effect—a pale cyan stream of air appeared above the base, swirling into a distinct vortex shape guided by the rune lines.

Of course, the clean air currents themselves were invisible; the pale cyan glow was actually an “elemental shimmer” effect caused by the interaction between mana and the active elements in the air. Seeing that familiar elemental shimmer, Kamail knew his experiment had succeeded.

The Jenny Formula Group and the Ravenkaes Constant still held true when dealing with elven magical runes—“Blessing of the Wind,” a classic elven spell, was now perfectly controlled within a human laboratory.

Watching the rotating air vortex, Kamail fell into deep thought.

When had the concept of “casting” gradually slipped beyond his understanding?

Traditional mages prided themselves on their personal casting ability. Only those who could shape spell effects with their own hands and mental power were considered true spellcasters. Yet “talent” inherently limited everyone’s maximum casting potential. No matter how brilliant or diligent, someone lacking talent could never release spells. But… what about these spell effects running on the experimental platform, generated through calculation, tools, and materials? What kind of casting was that?

In the traditional mage’s view, this was called “casting through a magic array,” still a mage’s exclusive domain. Only those with casting talent could inscribe arrays by sensing mana flows. The higher the talent, the more complex the array. So, in essence, array casting was no different from personal casting. Yet the research array before him was actually created by assistant researchers in the Rune Research Institute.

A group of ordinary people with extremely low—or even no—magical talent.

They designed all the rune structures through pen-and-paper calculations. Kamail merely guided them. Although “Blessing of the Wind” was one of the most basic elven spells, barely a level one or two spell in the human system, a group of ordinary people had reconstructed a usable array. This alone challenged the traditional concept of “casting.”

An excited voice broke Kamail’s reverie from nearby: “Master Kamail… we did it!”

“Yes, we succeeded!” “These elven runes really do operate based on rune knots and interference knots!” “Success!”

The assistant researchers gathered around, watching the stable operation of the array on the platform. They couldn’t help but get excited, though they dared not cheer loudly with Kamail present—the grand mage’s authority was deeply ingrained in their hearts.

Kamail lifted his gaze, scanning the white short robes worn by the magical researchers. These white robes, designed by the lord as “technical staff uniforms,” resembled mage robes but had no magical enhancements. Yet wearing one was the highest honor for many magical technicians in the territory. Looking at their eager faces, Kamail momentarily felt as if he were seeing the old friends who had once stood with him in the laboratory a thousand years ago…

The next moment, Kamail snapped back to reality, his voice trembling slightly: “Yes, we succeeded. Each of you did an excellent job—this calls for celebration. I will propose to Dean Jenny that we hold a celebration at the institute tonight!”

The researchers left the lab, buzzing with excitement over their success and anticipation for the evening feast. Kamail returned to the platform, eyes falling on several other blueprints fixed to a nearby rack.

They were designs for the acceleration track, along with some adjustment parameters recently sent by the lord.

He didn’t know how the lord had determined those parameters, but initial tests showed they were quite effective. The step of adding air-assisted propulsion to the projectiles was complete; the next task was to manufacture the acceleration track.

Kamail could already see the dawn of success. The theoretical parts of all the blueprints had been solved, and in his simulations, these designs should work well in practice. This new weapon, named by the lord as the “Magic Crystal Railgun,” might soon move from blueprint to finished product. But compared to this physical cannon project, his research on directed-energy weapons had hit a snag.

—He lacked manpower.

The Rune Research Institute had only a dozen or so assistant researchers. Jenny had already assigned half of them to Kamail, while the rest were busy with her research on interference issues in intermediate rune systems—work that was clearly untouchable.

Kamail’s team now had to focus on the acceleration track, projectile charges, fuses, and related testing. Though the theoretical parameters were ready, turning blueprints into actual products was no easy task. It was foreseeable that for a long time, the institute wouldn’t have spare hands to help with the directed-energy weapon project. Kamail himself had enough energy, but without assistants, his efficiency was limited.

Lacking assistants was not a new worry for Kamail. He felt he had to solve this problem; otherwise, even if he completed this project, he would continue to struggle with manpower shortages.

The ancient mage couldn’t help but think of the new facility the lord had ordered—the Magic Technology Research Institute, a comprehensive research center. He knew that institute leaned more toward practical applications, with large labs and skilled technicians adept at solving real-world problems. Strictly speaking, the Magic Technology Research Institute was better suited for his weapons development projects. But it was still under construction and wouldn’t be ready anytime soon.

Besides, even when completed, the technicians there would have their own full schedules—those were magic engineers, and their workloads were likely already packed.

So where could he find a batch of assistants?

The entire territory probably lacked enough intellectuals to be trained as magical technicians… unless he could find a way to bring in new talent.

Lost in thought, Kamail suddenly recalled a name he had overheard during a casual chat with Jenny not long ago.

He left the institute and headed straight to the Cecil General Academy, located south of the research institute.

Santis had just finished his afternoon classes. After assigning homework—copying runes and memorizing basic rune principles—he packed up his teaching materials, preparing to return to his dormitory to rest.

The young arcanist had grown accustomed to life in the Cecil territory.

Every day, he prepared lessons, taught classes, explained the mysteries of the magical world to his students, checked their progress and homework, then clocked out and returned to his dorm to prepare for the next day. At mealtimes, he went to the cafeteria to dine with other teachers, often discussing the students’ progress. Occasionally, he was frustrated by underperforming students, but more often, he was delighted by their improvements. Sometimes, students even brought gifts—usually homemade pastries or pretty stones they’d found by the riverbank. The latter was more common.

At first, he didn’t know what to do with the stones, but now his dorm’s windowsill was piled high with them.

Santis liked life in the Cecil territory.

No palace intrigues in the capital, no suffocating atmosphere in the mage tower, no sneers or political scheming from noble or senior mages. This was a place where he felt comfortable—despite being on the frontier, despite being dismissed by the capital’s lords as a “wasteland only fools would go to,” Santis felt no place was more comfortable.

Let the lords in the capital keep their narrow-mindedness; it was better they stayed away.

Clutching his teaching kit under his arm—a set of drafting tools, a textbook, a lesson plan, and a box of wooden rune “blocks” for demonstration, all self-made except the textbook—he walked out of the main teaching building, taking in the campus scenery.

The snow from a few days ago had been cleared by students and staff. Even in the coldest days of winter, the Cecil Academy was far from deserted. Santis saw groups of workers heading to another building for night classes. Since more factories in the territory had made literacy and numeracy prerequisites for skilled workers, more and more people were voluntarily attending night school.

After all, only by reading and counting could they easily learn to operate factory machines and understand complex instructions from foremen. And machine operators earned nearly twice as much as illiterate laborers who could only carry bricks and bags.

Suddenly, a flash of arcane light appeared in his field of vision, and Santis instinctively stopped.

It was Kamail—the territory’s most powerful spellcaster, a mage from the ancient kingdom of Gondor.

As a level-two arcanist who had grown up in the capital’s mage circles, Santis felt a bit nervous.

After confirming the ancient mage was indeed approaching him, Santis took a deep breath to calm himself and greeted, “Good afternoon, Master Kamail.”

“Mr. Santis, we’ve met before—when the lord took me on a tour of the academy,” Kamail stopped in front of him and got straight to the point. “I want to discuss something with you.”

“You want to talk to me?” Santis was momentarily stunned, then quickly nodded. “Of course, of course. Please, go ahead.”

“I need some assistants to help me complete a very important magical project.”

“Ah… ah?” Santis was even more stunned. “You need assistants… but surely they must be at least intermediate or even advanced mages to qualify as your apprentices…”

“From what I know, most mages in this era are fools. Once their thinking is fixed, intermediate and advanced mages are equally useless to me,” Kamail said bluntly. “I want to ask you—do you still have friends like you in your capital’s mage circles?”

(Just stepped out, just got home…)

(End of chapter)