“Hrm. Hrm, hrm…”
Ira and Ifriita worked together to compile a list of all the different kinds of magic for me. In addition to the four elements—fire, water, wind, and earth—they included subtypes: beam, lava, ice, snow, cold air, lightning, poison gas, stone, and metal magic. There were also non-elemental types like magic bullets, plus telekinetic spells like levitation and descent-control magic. There were all kinds of magic here that didn’t fall under the four elements, and it even listed what effects they all had.
Basically, this was my own personal grimoire.
“This one’s beam magic, right?”
“No. Magic bullet,” Ira corrected. “It generates heat, yes, but it’s not transforming beam magic energy into a projectile.”
“But—”
Ifriita and Ira started debating how to categorize the magic while I was staring at the list, already imagining the different ways to use these spells. The sky was the limit.
Fire and beam magic especially caught my attention. Magic energy existed in the atmosphere but was invisible to the naked eye. These spells converted this seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy into heat at spectacular efficiency. Okay, maybe “efficient” was debatable, but still fascinating. No kindling, no coal, no gas, no liquefied fuel. Just magic.
If that magic energy is truly inexhaustible…couldn’t we even build a perpetual motion engine? If the output of said energy was too low, we could tap into the vein hollows on the ground that oozed endless magic energy. If we found ways to harness that energy more effectively, we could accomplish so much more.
Right now, we were using the hollow’s energy at the rear base for geothermal heat for bathing and food. But what if we developed a magical machine akin to a geothermal power plant? Merinard could advance by leaps and bounds.
“Hmm… It’d be foolish if I only thought of military uses.”
I wanted to create things that made daily life easier, not just weapons. For example, I wanted to come up with some kind of tech that could reduce the practical cost of using magic tools. One idea was to adapt the mana drain spell, which siphoned magic energy from a target with telepathy. What if we used that to build something like a solar panel? Or in this case, a mana trap?
The spell sounded high-level, but I suspected there was a control formula buried in it that guzzled magic energy, much like the recoil system formula in wind magic. According to Ifriita and Ira, the spell required a massive amount of magic energy and precision in order to break through the target’s magic resistance and then control the stolen magic energy.
But if we applied this kind of spell on atmospheric magic instead, we might not have to worry about a resistance-breaking formula at all. With some hardware adjustments to tune the magic energy wavelength, drawing magic energy from the atmosphere might actually be simple.
At the rear base, our people were already researching the homogenization of magic energy, so it might be wise to have them send us their research materials. They theorized the unstable quality of the magic iron and steel being forged there came from inconsistencies in the vein hollow’s energy. They were researching the topic to try to find an answer.
But there was no need to install homogenization circuits into every single collector during the magic energy collection phase of things. We could deploy dozens of collection devices to draw magic energy in bulk, funnel it all into one place, homogenize it there, and then distribute the stabilized energy where it was needed. That would be more efficient. We’d probably also need some kind of capacitor to store all that homogenized energy. But first, I needed to start small and do some trial and error.
“That’s the face you make when you’re scheming,” Ifriita muttered. “Is he okay? He’s got a creepy smile on his face,” she asked Ira.
“He’ll be fine,” Ira said. “He’s always comes up with something fascinating.”
“I sure do. You just wait and see.”
First step: Convert the castle into an all-magic tool environment—basically like being all electric. Obviously, I couldn’t guarantee stability or safety with the initial prototypes, but any trouble that popped up would serve as useful case studies.
Right now, I needed three core devices: a mana trap to draw magic energy from the atmosphere, a mana transformer to homogenize the energy, and a mana capacitor to store large quantities of the magic energy. It’d also be nice to have some magic tools that were compatible with them.
Things like lights, air conditioners, cooking equipment, work benches, weapons for self-defense, and traps were all possibilities. If we could use magic energy freely, we wouldn’t even need metal bullets anymore—we could just fire pure magic.
“Hrm, hrm, hrm… I’m itching to go!”
Lighting magic tools already existed, but they had to be recharged constantly. Self-charging lamps would lighten the maids’ work. Air conditioning would make life more comfortable, and magic stoves with adjustable flames would make cooking easier. Machine tools and automatically rotating whetstones would simplify weapon maintenance as well.
My golem workbenches, though? Way too dangerous. Powered by gleaming magic jewels, they were said to be dangerous enough to level an entire district if mishandled. In contrast, the mana-powered machine tools would run no risk of exploding.
Probably. They’re definitely safe. Yeah.
Truth be told, depending on their output, mana traps might even replace vein hollows as our energy source. That said, pulling up too much from the atmosphere could weaken the surrounding layer, harm our bodies, or damage the ecosystem. Plus, at this point we didn’t even know if atmospheric magic energy was truly inexhaustible. It would need to be observed over a period of time.
“By the way, what’s the deal with spirit magic and miracles?” I asked.
“Spirit magic is tricky to categorize,” Ifriita said. “Obviously, you’re limited to what kind of spells you can cast by the spirit’s element, but essentially, the caster relays an image to the spirit, and that spirit manifests it.”
“They can do all kinds of things,” Ira added. “From firing elemental magic arrows, to casting catastrophe-level spells. It all boils down to the caster’s imagination, the spirit’s quality, and the amount of magic energy supplied. Many spirit mages rely on instinct, which makes it difficult to categorize.”
“Got it. What about miracles?”
“They’ve been categorized, but they’re pretty close to spirit magic,” Ira said.
“Mm. I think they’re on the same level,” Ifriita added. “Only the quality of the spirits being used differs. They’re closer to the root.”
“The root?” I tilted my head.
I hadn’t heard that come up before.
“The root of magic energy basically,” Ira explained. “It’s said that spirits are essentially bodies of magic energy, but miracles draw upon something much larger. The root of all magic energy. Its controller. The mother of spirits. Or perhaps—”
“God,” Ifriita finished. “Nobody has ever seen it, but we feel it in our daily lives. Especially us mages when working with formulas.”
“…Yup! Still not following!”
“I figured.”
“Since you can’t sense or use magic, it can’t be helped,” Ira said gently. They both shot me kind, sympathetic looks.
Please stop looking at me like I’m a clueless child. You’re hurting my heart.
“Either way, you can’t turn miracles or spirit magic into tools.” Ifriita concluded.
“All right, then standard magic it is. It’s useful because it’s versatile, usable any time or place, and can even be modified as you see fit.”
“Mm. I knew you’d say that, Kousuke.”
“Well, I don’t hate spirit magic.” I admitted.
“I’d like to study it too one of these days,” I added. “But first let’s focus on making a mana trap. Mind helping me out?”
“A mana trap?” the mages said in unison as they tilted their heads at me in confusion.
Right, I never actually described the thing out loud.
So, I gave them a rundown of what I had in mind.