The next afternoon, I finally arrived at the campsite.
Of my remaining food, I’d eaten only a piece of white bread and jerky; I’d otherwise subsisted on the blackberries easily found all over the woods. According to my previous calculations, my supplies would last me three days total if I rationed them, which meant I had two days to think of some way to engage in combat.
There was no sign of anyone at the campsite. Cautiously, I stepped closer and touched the ashes of a fire. They were fresh, but no traces of heat remained. I had nothing to start a fire with, so I’d hoped there would be embers remaining, but there was no point in wishing for what wasn’t there.
I grabbed a handful of the ashes from the extinguished fire and sprinkled it on my head. I’d already cut my hair, but the pink color still stood out. This could perhaps make it less eye-catching, which would make things easier for me later.
After hiding my belongings in a nearby bower a little ways from the campsite, I took my knife and canteen and decided to look for a water source. I was certain there’d be one nearby, and it didn’t take much searching to find a watering place sprouting from the bottom of a well-trodden road. A little ways upstream from there, I found a small stream that flowed into the rocks through a crack-like hollow before emerging again below the road.
Generally speaking, the farther upstream one was, the cleaner a river’s water, but since I couldn’t boil it, I thought it prudent not to drink any, so I only used it to dampen a cloth to wipe myself clean—not because I necessarily cared about cleanliness, but it would have been stupid to stay caked in sweat and grime and give away my presence through smell.
The reason I was unable to get a fire going or make myself water was the fact that, at the orphanage, the older children used Practical Magic to ignite fires, so there’d been no flintstones I could’ve brought with me.
Magic existed in this world, but the form in common use was called sorcery. The difference was that magic was primal and had existed since ancient times, whereas sorcery was designed through academic analysis and meant for the majority of people to use. One way to think about it would be this: a carriage built by oneself from scratch was magic; a commercially available carriage was sorcery. It wasn’t difficult to figure out which of the two was easier to use.
That woman seemed to have been a sorceress and quite well informed in that sphere, but she hadn’t studied much beyond her areas of interest, so some parts of her knowledge were questionable. What a pain.
In magic, there were six different elements: light, shadow, earth, water, fire, and wind—although, technically, there was also non-elemental magic, so one could say there were seven types. When people had a sufficient amount of aether in an element that suited them, they could use sorcery. There was no convenient technique or tool to easily determine which element one was able to use, so researching it took some effort. At that point, most commoners would’ve given up on learning.
Apparently, that woman had thought there existed a convenient tool one could use to find out what element one was compatible with just by waving a hand over it. She’d been quite indignant at how dry and boring reality was. I seemed to remember quite a bit of useless information, really.
I wanted to learn sorcery myself someday, but what I needed right now was Practical Magic, which was categorized as non-elemental. It could be used to start a fire or produce water, so the reason it was considered non-elemental was generally not well understood.
That woman’s master had taught her crucial information about the amount of aether used to cast spells, causal laws that could interfere with space, and things likely related to the basic principles of this world, but sadly, she hadn’t been interested, so she hadn’t learned them very well.
There were six varieties of Practical Magic, and most commoner adults were able to use it, but not all. Even those who could use it could at most use one or two varieties, according to my newly acquired knowledge. For the record, the woman had been taught all six by her master as part of her pursuits as a sorceress.
Shine, to create a light source roughly the size of a candle.
Darken, to extinguish lights and lamps lit by Shine.
Harden, to solidify something of the earth element for a time.
Spark, to ignite a small flame at one’s fingertips.
Flow, to produce enough water to fill a cup.
Gust, to create a gentle breeze in any direction.
Of these six, Shine was the variety most commonly learned, followed by Spark, then Flow. Hardly anyone cared to learn the rest. It wasn’t so much that people weren’t able to master all six; it was more that nobody bothered to. Wasn’t this the foundation for elemental magic, though?
Since even commoners could use Practical Magic, it had never been subjected to academic analysis, and it was generally learned incidentally, through repeated observation.
One of the core principles of sorcery was that elemental spells required incantations. Practical Magic, however, being non-elemental, could be cast just by saying a simple word, called an “invocation,” as long as the caster had a clear mental image of what they wanted.
Since that woman’s master had insisted that she learn, she’d had clear memories of the training process. I, however, was stuck at the preliminary stage. It involved practicing by feeling the aether within oneself, but I wasn’t in touch with my own aether in any way.
“Oh well,” I muttered.
For the time being, I searched the knowledge I’d acquired from that woman, looking for anything related to aether.
The first thing I found was that all living creatures in this world, without exception, possessed aether. This was because mana, the foundation for aether, existed in the environment—not just the air but water and soil, too, were filled with mana. Different theories posited that it was due to spirits, or generated by the soul, but basically, by performing essential functions such as breathing, drinking water, consuming the blessings of the earth, and eating animal meat, the body stored mana.
And it was this stored mana that was converted into energy—aether—that could be used for spells. And if one possessed above a certain amount of aether, said aether would supposedly produce an aethercrystal within one’s body, capable of generating more aether autonomously. But that was beside the point. The crux of the matter was that I undoubtedly had aether within me, though, perhaps because mana was plentiful in the environment, I couldn’t tell my own aether apart from it.
Mana formed aethercrystals using blood as a medium, which meant there had to be aether flowing in my blood. I brought my fingers to my wrist, feeling the thump-thump of my pulse. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus and sense the aether that I knew had to be coursing through my veins. There was something there. Something faint...