A Few Spells for You

A heavy rain that began at dawn cooled the sweltering summer air, and the summer crops in the fields had barely sprouted before they were watered.

That morning, Walter taught Frederick logic using a book called The Art of Debate.

Frederick set aside what had happened the previous night and listened attentively as Walter explained the difference between categorical and non-categorical terms.

The sound of rain and the fresh air drifted into the study through the half-open window, easing the pressure in Frederick's head a little.

Logic was rather abstruse to him, but it was necessary for handling official documents and laws, so he had to learn it.

He once tried to demonstrate "Argumentative Troll logic," only for Walter to show him four ways to use Ice Cone Spell.

In a scholar's eyes, an "Argumentative Troll" was no different from someone picking up the ball and charging toward the opposing goal in a soccer match. If you could knock them down with one blow, you might as well hit them a few more times.

When class finally ended, with some time left before lunch, Frederick dashed off to Psyche's room.

Psyche was leaning against the headboard, sucking on a lollipop and holding a novel. She quietly watched Frederick barge in, then turn around and lock the door.

Frederick cast several spells beside the bed, then asked with a dark look, "What the heck are these?"

Peashooters, Chompers, and clover plants appeared on the soft carpet, swaying back and forth.

Psyche replied calmly, "These are Composite Magic based on Shaping Magic, Elemental Golems, and Soul Magic. They're the greatest achievement in the field of Composite Magic to date, so you should be grateful."

The dark lines on Frederick's forehead didn't fade in the slightest. He cast a few more spells.

This time, four figures appeared: an Assassin Brother from the Assassin Brotherhood, dressed in a white robe with his face hidden; a big sister Dark Ranger with deep purple skin; a towering, muscular Barbarian Brother covered in tattoos; and a silver-haired girl in a maroon dress and matching hood, wearing a dark red cloak and holding a scythe.

Psyche continued calmly, "An assassin, an archer, a warrior, and a healer. These Elemental Golems are based on Shaping Magic, Elemental Golems, and Soul Magic. They're the greatest achievement in the field of Elemental Golems to date, so keep being grateful."

Frederick waved his hand, and the Peashooters and Elemental Golems vanished. He sat down beside the bed and asked with a frown, "How did I suddenly learn these spells?"

When he woke up that morning, he'd felt like he knew how to do a few things. Thinking it over, he realized he could somehow summon these remarkable beings.

The Peashooters and the Elemental Golems were all made of magical elements, and were as hard as iron.

Psyche pointed to her head and replied, "Soul Copy-Paste. I gave you a copy of some of the things I know."

Frederick's eyes widened, and he asked anxiously, "Will it affect you?"

She reached out and ruffled his hair, saying lightly, "If you copy the contents of one book into another, what effect does that have on the first book?"

"Then I'm relieved." Frederick let out a breath. "Will it have any other effects on me?"

Psyche patted the novel in her hand and said, "I just wrote a little something in a blank space. Adding a little won't hurt, but don't get greedy. If you write too much, it'll affect the book itself."

"And don't expect to use it on a large scale. This is delicate work. Even I find it exhausting. One mistake, and both sides will end up idiots."

Frederick nodded and said sincerely, "Thank you."

Psyche tousled his hair and stood up. "Go easy on these spells. With your current power, you can only keep them up for about two minutes."

Frederick nodded seriously, thinking, I'll save them as a trump card.

Psyche went on, "Don't underestimate these spells. You may be a noob, but they aren't."

"Take those four Elemental Golems. Each one has its own strengths and signature move. Their fighting spirit and endurance are astonishing, and their secret weapons can give you a real surprise!"

Frederick shuddered and said earnestly, "If I'm ever in danger, can I call for help? Like, I could shout, 'Psyche, save me!' and you'd appear in a flash."

Psyche asked with a mischievous grin, "Would I appear just to watch the show?"

Then she pinched Frederick's cheek and said earnestly, "Your own strength is the only real strength. This world is far less peaceful than you think."

"Let me tell you: people at Richard Nahl's level sometimes take assassination jobs, too."

"You're a troublemaker, so you're bound to make countless enemies. When that happens, the best way to solve the problem will be to get rid of you yourself."

"There's still a lot you need to learn—not just magic, but also the social rules and ways of thinking built around the differences in personal power that magic creates."

Something suddenly clicked for Frederick. While studying logic earlier, he'd felt that something was off. Now, after Psyche's reminder, he understood what it was.

Back home, once you stripped away social factors like economic status and position, there wasn't much difference in people's abilities. That was why things like Caesar being assassinated in the Senate, or Nara-machi, the greatest archer in Tokaido, challenging the Taiko to a duel could happen.

But it was different here. If Caesar had the same strength as Richard Nahl, then even if there were people of equal strength at the scene, he could at least escape—as long as they weren't overwhelmingly outnumbered.

Because the gap in strength between people had widened, the "final say" didn't depend solely on an organization; it also depended on the strength of your own fists.

The most obvious example was that if your fists were strong enough, you could knock down Argumentative Trolls one by one.

The existing political system had already brought supernatural power under its control and curbed it through laws, morality, and tradition, using social status and wealth. If the system was to change, the inequality in personal strength was an obstacle that would be hard to get around.

Frederick's cheek turned to dough in Psyche's hand, interrupting his thoughts.

"Don't think so much," Psyche said as she kneaded his cheek. "Some problems can't be solved just by sitting around and daydreaming."

"Get out more, see more, think more. Do I really need to tell you what to do?"

Frederick gave a quiet "Mm," understanding what she meant.

"Oh, right." Frederick changed the subject. "Why not use old hemp cloth and worn-out hemp rope as raw materials for making paper?"

"Because there's a better material."

"What is it?" Frederick asked curiously. "The materials for making paper are hemp, bamboo, and wood. There's no bamboo here."

"Paper made from grass pulp is brittle," Psyche replied. "It won't do for the newspapers and magazines you want to make."

Frederick frowned. "But I remember that grinding wood into pulp takes a lot of power. You'd need a Steam Engine to drive it, and a waterwheel doesn't have enough power."

Psyche smiled. "I'll teach you once you make the 'Lion's Head.'"

Frederick's forehead creased. "Tomorrow, then. I'm going to the blacksmith's this afternoon."