Casting

As he struggled to recall the mage lessons from his memories, he took a deep breath after a long while and began moving his fingers in a steady rhythm. Seconds later, the invisible arcane energy in the air took on a pale blue hue before his eyes, making him feel as though he were immersed in the cosmos, freely experiencing the power of the stars.

This was true meditation.

Having resolved the preliminary issue, Du Pont began attempting to cast a spell.

Spellcasting was neither easy nor difficult. Complex spells required a combination of incantations, gestures, focuses, and casting materials, while simpler spells needed only one of them. Once mages underwent long training and gained sufficient understanding of spells, they could omit these steps to cast instantly, or enhance a spell's power and effects.

This was what mages called metamagic.

That was a little beyond Du Pont's current level. The spells he cast now only required him to use gestures to manipulate arcane energy into the proper spell structure, then use the correct incantation to form those structures into a spell. A focus merely helped assemble the spell structure faster.

However, as the times changed, mages could use a more convenient method: directly use incantations and gestures to draw the spells they wanted from the Weave. They could even use this method to identify spells. As long as they had the corresponding spell slot, they could cast any magic they had learned. No longer did memorized spells have to occupy fixed spell slots.

Upon realizing this, Du Pont gained a vague insight, but it did not change his situation: if he wanted to scribe a usable magic scroll, he had to rely entirely on his own control of the arcane to imprint the complete spell onto the scroll, rather than taking a shortcut and casting the spell onto parchment.

With that thought, Du Pont wrote the incantation on the scroll. Elegant Elven script flowed swiftly from his hand. A few seconds later, he reread it several times, then set the quill atop the ink bottle's cap.

It was roughly the same as in his memories. It should work.

School of Conjuration, first-circle spell: Mage Armor

Du Pont knew no offensive magic, but both Mage Armor and Grease were considered popular spells.

Especially the former. It was a basic School of Abjuration spell that every mage had to master.

No matter the situation or enemy we encounter, Mage Armor will effectively improve a mage's chances of survival and give us ample time to react. And as long as we survive, no matter how terrible the circumstances or enemies before us, we will have a chance to create a miracle.

"First Lesson in Practical Mage Combat"

Du Pont closed his eyes and spread his hands, using his awareness to sense the omnipresent arcane energy in the air. As his fingers moved according to his memories, pale blue motes gathered one by one above them, and a string of powerful, mysterious characters flowed from his mouth.

"Lorica Magica!"

As the incantation neared its end, pale white light gathered around Du Pont's body. When he uttered the final letter, arcane energy converged in midair and formed those characters, identical to what Du Pont had just written.

Joy flashed through Du Pont's eyes. The pale white light and characters had all vanished, while his once ordinary robe had become as tough as scale armor, yet it caused him no discomfort at all.

It worked!

His first spellcasting attempt had been a complete success, and Du Pont felt somewhat excited. However, given the special circumstances, he had no way to test whether this Mage Armor was truly as durable as chainmail. Still, the white light that had flickered over his robe was basically the same as he remembered.

It should be fine?

Yet when it came time to Scribe Scroll, Du Pont found it incredibly difficult.

He could manipulate arcane energy with gestures, but how was he supposed to imprint that arcane energy onto the scroll?

He tried several times, only to find no method that worked. After thinking for a moment, he realized he had fallen into a misconception.

The parchment capable of holding a first-circle spell already possessed a certain amount of magic. What he needed to do was not imprint arcane energy onto the scroll, but manipulate the arcane energy within the parchment into the correct spell structure. Then, as long as spell energy was infused into the scroll, it would be complete.

No wonder it was called first-circle spell parchment. The magic within this scroll could only store enough energy to release a first-circle spell.

Having figured out the key, Du Pont began writing.

His familiarity with Elven script allowed Du Pont to scribe rapidly even without looking at the scroll. His elegant, beautiful handwriting rivaled that of the most noble Sun Elf royal family. As the blood-scented ink completed the final character, a faint flat diagram formed from Elven script appeared on the parchment before him, with part of the incantation gleaming.

Through his manipulation, part of the arcane energy within the parchment had already been assembled into a portion of the incantation. However, his ability and method could not command all the energy to enter it. He needed to use his mental power to restrain the remaining energy and fill out the written incantation until it reached the point where the spell could be activated.

That was the entire process of Scribe Scroll.

With his thoughts clear, Du Pont cast aside all distractions and slowly moved his fingers with intense focus, controlling the unruly energy within the parchment and guiding it toward the proper positions.

This operation required great care. Once an error occurred, the energy inside would rapidly dissipate, and the incantation might also fail.

If unused, the energy inside the parchment could remain for years without dispersing. But once the scribing began, even if no mistakes were made, the arcane energy within would gradually fade after more than an hour, until it became nothing more than toilet paper.

It might have been a few minutes, or perhaps half an hour. When the Elven script on the scroll before him began to glow, Du Pont let out a breath and wiped at the nonexistent sweat on his forehead.

The burden of using mental power was truly not light, but this scribing attempt had met his expectations.

He had succeeded in a single try.

After confirming with the system that there was no problem with his scribing method, Du Pont opened his eyes and emerged from meditation.

The luxurious training ground and the towering Mage Tower had vanished without a trace. All that belonged to him was the filthy, cluttered little room before him.

It was somewhat discouraging, as though what he had seen earlier had been nothing but a false illusion, but Du Pont could not hide the excitement in his eyes.

His first spellcasting and scroll scribing attempts had both succeeded on the first try. Looking at that 40% success rate, it was hard for him not to feel smug.

That Du Pont had studied for two and a half years, yet whether in manual skill or writing, he was inferior to a newcomer like him who had just arrived in this world. This was practically a dimensionality-reduction strike.

Although the costly linguistics training had helped him greatly, he was still in a weakened state, and his spellcasting had begun entirely from scratch.

Could I be a once-in-ten-thousand genius? Du Pont stroked his smooth chin and could not help laughing.

Wiping away his sweat, Du Pont picked up the milk and took a gulp. Its fragrant yet fishy taste made him frown.

Forget it, he should bathe first. Du Pont picked up the wooden bucket from the bathroom and headed to the public washroom to fetch hot water.

The dormitory had a bathroom for washing up, but it was tiny, only around three square meters. Other than the toilet, there was basically only enough space to wash one's face.

However, according to his memories, the washroom facilities were seldom used apart from the toilet. When many apprentices were in a hurry, they simply used the Dust Removal Spell to clean themselves. Only when they had leisure did they fetch hot water to wash up or soak their feet.

Du Pont still preferred hot water. It would be even better if there were a bathtub for soaking. Unfortunately, only the dormitories of senior apprentices nearing graduation or wealthy people seemed to have room for such a luxury. It was basically beyond his reach for the time being.

There was a bathhouse in the academy, and a single wash cost two silver coins, but he could not afford such extravagance right now. He should save money and avoid starving to death.

But when he arrived at the washroom, he discovered several teenagers hiding inside and smoking cigarettes. The moment they saw him, several hostile gazes turned toward him.

Du Pont frowned at the sight, recalling the conflict in the dining hall.

Were they lying in wait for me here?