Chapter 2
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“OPEN, Gate of Magic.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I was about to attempt to dive deep within myself, beyond the depths of my instincts, beyond even my subconscious, into the chaotic realm where I would release the spell’s energy. I regulated my breathing and focused my mind.
First, I constructed the image of an inner world within myself. It was a space shrouded in darkness, and there I was, standing inside of it.
It is a surprisingly difficult task to clearly reconstruct an image of oneself in one’s mind. But in this case, it took no time at all before I was looking at a copy of myself, wizard’s robe and all.
In fact, I felt that my thought processes were running abnormally quick. If I were to think of my brain as a computer, it felt like someone had upgraded my CPU and RAM. This must be Geo Margilus’s high ability scores at work, I thought.
Carefully, I took the image of myself standing in the cell and the image I’d created of myself in the inner world and brought
them together. Once the lines between them had blurred, and my physical self had melted into my imaginary self, I slowly opened my eyes.
Darkness.
No longer could I see the cell I was standing in. Now I was inside my inner world. I raised my right hand and formed the image of a lantern that would light the darkness in my mind. The lantern immediately formed in my hand, lighting my surroundings with a deep red tinge.
“This is amazing… It feels so real… Wh-whoa! No! Stop!”
The weight and heat of the lantern, the smell of the oil… It was just so real. It shocked me for a moment. That moment of shock—or rather, disbelief—had sent my inner world reeling. It felt as if I were being pulled hard from all sides, and it left my stomach churning.
Deep breaths: In… Out… In… Out…
In a flustered panic, I first focused on restoring order to my breathing. The swaying and disturbances finally gave way to calm.
“That was a close one…”
I was still only in my inner world, so even if my images of the world and self broke down, the worst that could happen was that I would make myself terribly sick. If I had let those images fail later in the process, there was a chance I could have put myself in a coma. Who the hell came up with this, anyway? (I did.)
“Reveal your form to me.”
Both my physical self and my self-image chanted the second verse of the spell in unison. When I raised my lantern to light the way ahead, the gate appeared in front of me.
“So, this is the magic gate.”
The gate was three meters tall and appeared to be made of stone. It was inscribed with countless ominous engravings, which only emphasized its magical nature. This gate connected my inner world and the chaotic realm. It served as the way in and the way out, but it also symbolized a protective barrier between myself and that plane.
What lay beyond the gate was still part of my mind, but at the same time, it was indeed another realm. If I were to explain it in psychological terms, the chaotic realm was not unlike the collective unconscious: within but beyond.
The magic gate opened without a sound, revealing stone steps that spiraled downward in a counterclockwise flow. By the lantern’s light, I slowly descended the steps. Along with the magic gate itself, this staircase and adjoining structures had taken many long years of training for Geo to construct in his mind. (According to the backstory I wrote for him, anyway.)
If any part of the image of the gate, walls, or staircase in my mind was inadequate, and my conscious self-image were to touch a part of the chaotic realm directly, my consciousness would be swallowed up by its roiling disorder, and I would lose my mind.
But there seemed to be no cause for alarm. My surroundings were built by the imagination of a Level 36 magic user, after all. From the hardness and coldness and coloration of the stone walls, to the flow of air and even the smells, there was no way to distinguish this world from reality.
I wasn’t counting steps, but after descending a couple flights’ worth of stairs, I came upon the first landing. There was a door and a plate above it which read: “The Beginner’s Spellbook Archive.” If I just wanted to practice, I thought, it might not be a bad idea to try casting a Rank 1 spell, but right now the spell I want to cast is farther down. I walked past the landing and continued down the stairs, past the second landing, the fourth, the seventh, the eighth…
Finally, I reached the ninth landing: The Grand Wizard’s Spellbook Archive. This was where the Rank 9 spells were stored. The chaos just beyond the walls was palpable. In a sense, this imaginary structure I inhabited was but a temporary space, forcing order upon the formless sea of energy that was the chaos. If any of these walls were to break down, that chaos would flood in, and both this space and my self would be lost to it.
Nervously, I gulped and raised my lantern to the door. It opened like the magic gate before—without a sound. Beyond the door was an archive room filled with giant bookshelves. If I had to pin it down, the floorplan of the room was similar to that of an elementary school classroom.
Upon entering the room, I saw nine elevated bookrests immediately in front of me, each of them holding a thick tome. Every book represented a charged spell. While ordinary bookrests are tilted toward the reader, these lay flat and level, like a table. This was because the bookrests served yet another important, but less obvious, purpose.
I looked at and confirmed the titles of the books: Time Stop, Meteor, Create Monster: Any, and… Invincibility.
I found the spell I was looking for and touched it lightly. It appeared to have over a thousand pages, but all I needed was one. The book opened by itself, as if it were alive. It turned to the page I was looking for of its own accord.
Both my physical self and self-image chanted the remainder of the spell.