As one would expect, the grimoire enumerated the basics of magical training. The gist was as follows:
Step 1: Perceiving Magic
In order to use magic, a person would first have to be aware of the magical energy within them. If one couldn’t do that much, the book spared no shame in demanding that the reader reconsider where their talents truly lie... Harsh.
Step 2: Manipulating Magic
Assuming success in sensing one’s magic, learning to move it—in other words, Magic Handling—came next. For many, the text explained, this was a stumbling block, and for some, it took all their magic to simply manage this much, but it encouraged patience and perseverance. Near the end, it explained that master mages could wield the same magic as a beginner at a fifth of the cost. It also instructed one to continue practicing these basics for the rest of one’s life.
This made sense, of course. The lower your magic consumption, the more high-level magic you would be able to cast.
Step 3: Controlling Magic
After learning to perceive and manipulate magic came the ability to affect it beyond the body (i.e. Magic Control). Once a person learned this, spells weren’t far off, but a level of skill was involved. Without sufficient control, others could interfere with your magic to cause mayhem.
Step 4
“Cast level one spells of your associated affinity,” it read.
Casting a spell caused magic to leave the body, evidently, and succeeding in doing so increased your skill level. Those unable to successfully cast a spell after repeated attempts were sent right back to step one.
“If still you do not succeed, your talent is naught, with forfeit being your only option.”
The moment my eyes fell on those words, an intense desire to throw the book across the room welled up inside of me. After all that careful, meticulous explanation, I couldn’t help but expect better than an author who suddenly gave up on people right at the end.
Consideration for others’ respective starting lines likely played little part in the writing of this book, so maybe its lack of mercy for late bloomers made sense, but even so, how ruthless could you be? Some kid could read it and have their confidence utterly crushed, and then what? What’s more, none of its pages explained how to practice the sensing or manipulating of magic in any sort of detail, despite how vital they supposedly were. Still, this grimoire belonged to the guild, so I couldn’t just vent my frustration on it. I calmed myself and moved on to reading some of the points that were unrelated to training.
Magic is a phenomenon brought about by the offering—the casting—of one’s energy to the Galdardian deity Crya, through which a mental image is brought forth in reality.
By implanting said image clearly into one’s magic, one’s control will improve. Additionally, as one’s magical understanding grows, so, too, can one’s casting be abbreviated, or even culled entirely.
“This magical theory reads a lot like religion with all the Galdardia and ‘offering to deities’ talk. Well, God is real, clearly, so might as well give it a shot.” I took a deep breath and focused. “Okay, here goes. Oh, Lord, receive my energy and mend this wound. Heal!”
I solidified an image of a regenerating wound and chanted the spell with all I had...to no avail. I did feel a sensation like something leaving my body, but no magic was triggered.
“I guess that’s how it goes when you’re not a prodigy or a cheater,” I rationalized to myself.
With a prayer to Assess Mastery, I opened the status screen to verify my lack of progress and found a new skill: Holy Magic 0 at 5/1000.
“Phew, so I’m doing it right. Looks like I just need to do this two hundred more times. At least there’s an end in sight; otherwise, it’d wear me down for sure. Now, let’s test some stuff out...”
This time, I tried casting without a mental image. My mastery increased by exactly zero.
“Yeah, so you’ve definitely got to have the image in your mind.”
Seeing my MP at 40/50 led me to conclude that one Heal would consume five MP.
“I do wonder how much HP the target recovers, but I should get a feel for what this magic exhaustion is first.”
I cast the remaining eight Heals that were left to me, with a proper vision in my head as before. After the final cast, my MP showed a single point remaining from natural recovery, but the exhaustion hit me all the same. Intense dizziness and a splitting headache robbed me of my ability to stand.
Even after I had recovered and was able to stand again, I still couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. Later, once my headache had faded and I could finally relax, I opened the status screen to check my MP, which now sat at 5/50.
“I can’t keep this up. At this rate, time’s the only thing that’ll be progressing.”
I stared up at the ceiling and thought things over. According to the grimoire, this downtime of fatigue was best used for Magic Handling and Magic Control, but my current state was less than ideal for practicing. I could reasonably assume the enervation started up once I dropped below ten percent of my total magic.
“The higher your Magic Handling and Magic Control, the less magic you eventually end up using, so I think I’ll focus on those for now.”
And so I meditated and began the process of trial-and-error: sensing magic, controlling it, in search of greater recovery methods. How much time passed, I couldn’t say. I tirelessly studied and practiced, over and over, and right when I was on the verge of magical exhaustion, three knocks came at my door.
“Come in,” I managed to croak.
“Oh, taking a break?” The receptionist entered, looking concerned by my condition and carrying food with her. “Wow, you’re pale as a ghost. Are you okay?”
“Yes, somehow. Also, I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier. I’m Luciel, and I’m currently experiencing magical fatigue, so please, worry not.”
“You’re awfully diligent for your age,” she laughed. “My name’s Kururu. Here, eating should help you recover some of your magic.” She placed a tray with my meal on the table.
“Thank you for going through the trouble.”
“It’s nothing. Just leave the dishes outside your room when you’re finished. And one more thing, don’t overstrain yourself. We can’t have healers collapsing in our own guild.”
I laughed. “You make a good point. I’ve almost got the hang of this, though, so I’m going to keep it up. With appropriate breaks, of course.”
“Well, you can still speak, so you’ll probably be fine. Make sure you sleep, too, okay? It’ll help you recuperate.”
“Thank you for the advice, Kururu.”
She responded with a giggle, then left the room.
The food she had brought was a flavorless vegetable soup with a side of equally flavorless bread, but it did its job just fine and filled my stomach while doubling as a decent break.
Afterwards, I resumed my training. I toiled away, casting spells without any issues for some time, except once when I accidentally cast one too many. My sapped magic quickly shrank my motivation to nonexistence, so I finally called it quits for the day.
I had no idea how long I’d slept. The unfamiliar ceiling I awoke to reaffirmed the reality that I had been reincarnated, much to my disappointment. But wallowing never helped anyone. At businessman-like speeds, I reset myself and put my best foot forward towards the task at hand.
“Your life should be gone right now. If you work hard, you could have an even better one than before. Come on, you can do it!” I encouraged myself.
With renewed vigor, I reopened the grimoire, but not before noticing that the room had never dimmed.
“I wonder what keeps this room at a constant level of lighting,” I mumbled. “Maybe the stonework is magic, or there’s some kind of magical tool powering it. I should ask when I get the chance.”
I used the time before breakfast to continue my painstaking training, casting spells right up to the line of exhaustion, then exercising my Magic Control. However, breakfast never came. I checked the time and saw that it was just about sunrise. My rejuvenated youth, it would seem, came bundled with the appropriate appetite. Nevertheless, my training went on.
Though I wasn’t aware of it just then, this second day brought even greater focus. Centering myself on magic in this cramped space felt like it did wonders for my grasp of it all. Suspecting that something inside me had changed, I used Assess Mastery and found all sorts of new skill improvements.
“Wow, those really exploded. Working towards a goal makes it so much more worthwhile. And seeing the results is pretty fulfilling, too.”
Knowing that my efforts, my pains, were actually paying off sent my motivation soaring. People work harder with clear aspirations, as opposed to constant uncertainty over when or whether it will even pay off. It was the same in my past life’s work. And throughout all of this, I made other discoveries as well, like how meditating improves the Meditation, Focus, and Magic Recovery skills.
My time here was a great opportunity to build up as many skills as possible and to test things out along the way. For example, in an attempt to boost Parallel Thinking I tried air drumming and playing rock-paper-scissors with myself, but neither worked. Tongue-twisters would boost Speed Casting, though, so I mentally made note of the most effective outcomes. This cycle of successes and failures fueled my experimentation.
“I’m just a plain old, average guy,” I murmured. “It’s amazing how heroes in stories can overcome just about anything, but as long as I’m in here and my efforts are being rewarded, my spirit will never break.”
My training continued.
“I’ve brought food.”
A new girl carrying my meal arrived in the middle of some stretches I was doing for a change of pace. She was beautiful, with refined chestnut hair that glasses would well suit.
“Oh, thank you.” This did nothing to quell the beating in my chest.