Magic and Divine Arts

"When this book has lost its value to you, pass it on to someone who needs it. The truth must be preserved."

This was the first sentence Benjamin saw when he opened the cover.

Sure enough, the pages that followed told a mage's version of the origins of magic and divine arts: another story of Cain and Abel.

In this version, there were no demons, only the God of Magic and the God of Light, who each bestowed upon one of the brothers the power of magic or divine arts. The villains of the story were the harsh natural environment and powerful magical beasts. Cain and Abel worked together to tame the wilderness and led humanity in building a home of their own.

As in every story, the good times didn't last. The brothers disagreed over sacrifices. The God of Magic favored offerings of grains and vegetables, so Cain insisted that all sacrifices should consist of grains and vegetables. The God of Light favored offerings of cattle and sheep, so Abel insisted that all sacrifices should consist of cattle and sheep. Conflicts between their followers kept arising, too, and at last the brothers fell out and fought in a valley.

Just as the battle reached its fiercest point, two beams of divine light suddenly descended from the heavens. The God of Magic and the God of Light had both appeared. Deeply disappointed by humanity's infighting, they struck Cain and Abel dead with divine punishment and declared that they would never again descend upon this continent. From then on, it became known as the "Land of God-Forsaken," and the valley where they had fought was named "God-Forsaken Valley."

Cain and Abel's followers were suddenly left without a leader. Long-suppressed grievances erupted, and the two factions became embroiled in a drawn-out conflict. Abel's followers were better at winning people over, and they established the Church, steadily growing their strength across the continent. Cain's followers, meanwhile, gradually became loners who looked down on people banding together.

The Church gained the upper hand and began slaughtering mages on a massive scale. In the end, the continent's situation developed into what it was today.

After reading the mages' version, Benjamin felt it seemed more objective than the Church's story, and it didn't seem to smear the other side. But according to the Rashomon principle, anyone involved in the story couldn't possibly be completely objective in telling it. So he had read it with a spirit of inquiry and skepticism.

By now, his mind was no longer on these outlandish myths and legends.

The Bible wasn't thick to begin with, and more than half of it had already been devoted to this story. Benjamin worried there wouldn't be much left about magic.

Fortunately, as he read on, he found one spell after another: Fireball Spell, Water of Life, Earth Sink Spell... There were even spells he knew well, like Water Ball Spell, and the Binding Spell that had given him such a crushing defeat.

The spells' pronunciations were indicated using homophones, in a manner about as rudimentary as using "gud moning" to indicate "good morning." If the book hadn't included a detailed analysis of each spell's pronunciation underneath, Benjamin would have doubted their accuracy.

Besides, Benjamin already knew the incantations for Water Ball Spell and Binding Spell. By extension, he was confident he could get the pronunciations of the other spells right and avoid blunders like mispronouncing them.

The remaining half of the book introduced these spells one by one. It covered over fifty in total, and their haphazard nature was plain to see. Judging from the book's descriptions, they were all beginner-level spells: easy to learn, but not very powerful. Many were even downright useless, like Face Washing Spell and Skin Hydration Spell. Had the person who invented that spell been working at Watsons in a past life?

Benjamin was still a little disappointed.

He had hoped the book would explain some magical theory, clarify what the heck the Consciousness Space was, and discuss things like elements and mental power. Instead, all it did was stuff spells down the reader's throat.

It wasn't that spells were bad. It was just that Benjamin had hoped for more.

He worried that, if the Church's long-term suppression had kept the continent's magic at an empirical level, with people blindly learning spells but never developing an advanced methodology, what would happen?

If that was really the case, he'd already be the leading figure in magical theory...

After a brief spell of disappointment, Mr. Leading Figure still approached things in the spirit of scholarship. He quickly entered the Consciousness Space and began testing the fifty-odd spells he had just learned.

He started with spells that had nothing to do with water, reciting them one after another: Fireball Spell, Paralysis Spell, Shadow Stealth Spell... The result was the same. A faint force of rejection welled up in the Consciousness Space. A few times, the free-floating water elements even began to run wild, as if they were saying, "You're chanting the spell of my mortal enemy! Keep it up and I'll fucking kill you!"

With no other choice, he picked a Water Barrier incantation. After confirming its pronunciation, he focused and recited it.

A ripple spread out from his body.

The surrounding water elements stirred, showing a faint tendency to gather. But just as they had gathered halfway, Benjamin suddenly felt a pain in his head. The ripple vanished, and the water elements stopped gathering.

The spell had failed.

Benjamin wasn't discouraged. He felt the spell still had potential, so he cast Water Barrier again and again. Finally, after more than ten failures, he succeeded.

A thin film wreathed in water vapor enveloped him like a bubble. He found the feeling of being connected to it by his mind novel. He looked at the barrier, which seemed so fragile that a breath might break it, and couldn't resist reaching out to poke it.

Pop! The bubble burst.

Damn, it really was fragile...

There was nothing he could do. It was his first time casting this spell, so of course it wouldn't be very powerful. Benjamin could only reassure himself, then summoned the same tenacity he'd once used to put an incantation on repeat and started practicing the spell over and over.

It turned out that repeatedly casting a spell you weren't very familiar with was exhausting, especially since each failed attempt caused a little backlash. After countless failures, he was kicked out of the Consciousness Space again.

And after all that practice, he had succeeded only five times.

Obviously, a spell with such a low success rate couldn't be used in actual combat.

Benjamin was very disappointed at first, but he was grateful for the inquisitive spirit his modern education had instilled in him. He soon calmed down and began thinking about why this was happening. He had used Water Ball Spell countless times in the Consciousness Space, and it had a hundred percent success rate without using much mental energy. Water Barrier was a little more complicated than Water Ball Spell, but surely not this complicated, right?

So where was the problem?

After comparing the casting process for Water Ball Spell with that of Water Barrier, Benjamin found the answer.

It was that blue glyph shining in the Consciousness Space.

When he used Water Ball Spell, the glyph vibrated and emitted a ripple to guide the water elements. But when he used Water Barrier, the glyph didn't take part in the process. He could only emit the ripple himself, and his control over the water elements was greatly reduced.

Once he understood that, an even bigger question arose.

Why didn't the glyph react when he recited the Water Barrier incantation?

Or, to look at it from another angle, what did he need to do to make the glyph help him cast spells other than Water Ball Spell?

He returned to the Consciousness Space and tried other water spells: Water of Life, Freezing Spell, Ice Shatter Spell, Mist Spell... The results were much the same as with Water Barrier. The Triangle Glyph was practically like Alibaba's door, and the Water Ball Spell incantation was its "Open Sesame." It ignored everything else.

Now he was completely out of ideas.

Put simply, he didn't even know what the glyph was, so there was no way he could understand how it worked. As the leading figure in magical theory, his research into magic went no further than understanding how it happened. How everything actually worked was still unexplored territory.

Put simply, he was like an ordinary person. He knew that a clock's hands were powered by electricity, and he knew how to replace its battery when it ran out. But when it came to more detailed things, like a broken gear inside the clock, only a watchmaker would know what to do.

Where was he supposed to find a magical "watchmaker"?

Benjamin sighed, feeling a little dejected.

He returned to reality, picked up the Bible in his hands, and turned to the end.

Besides the myths and legends and the fifty-odd spells, the book ended with a sentence, just like the one on the cover:

"You are the fifty-sixth person to finish reading this book. Please pass it on to someone who needs it and keep magic alive."

Not long after he turned to the page, the number in the text changed in a strange way. Then "fifty-six" became "fifty-seven."

Benjamin was startled. But after confirming it was only a trivial magical trick, one that didn't even produce a magical fluctuation, he stopped being surprised.

That passage, though, moved him.

Under the Church's brutal pursuit, a group of mages hid in the darkness, struggling to survive, yet they hadn't forgotten to pass their magic down. So they'd come up with this method: writing a Bible that seemed simple and crude, then passing it from one person to the next.

And eventually it had reached him.

No wonder. No wonder that when Michelle spoke of an equivalent exchange, she'd said she would trade the Treasure Vault for her life, but hadn't mentioned the book. Giving Benjamin the book wasn't a favor to him. Michelle had only been keeping a promise—one that fifty-six people before her had already kept.

Phew...

Benjamin shrugged helplessly.

Seriously, what was with all this sense of mission? Were they really trying to start a revolution?

He was already in trouble and barely managing to keep himself afloat.

Putting his reflections aside, Benjamin focused once more on the Triangle Glyph. He had to solve this problem. Otherwise, even with all these spells, he'd still be left cowering in a corner with nothing but Water Ball Spell.

How did Michelle and the others learn magic? Did they have to struggle this much?

Would he really have to wait until Michelle showed up again and then find a way to ask her? That would leave him too passive. Whether she answered or not would be entirely up to Michelle, and he didn't have the patience to wait that long.

Think about it. Was there something else he hadn't made use of...

"I figured it out! I'm a genius! I'm a genius, the invincible super artificial intelligence system!"

Just then, the long-silent system suddenly popped up and began shouting madly in Benjamin's mind. It nearly scared him into dropping the book.

"...Next time you make a surprise attack, could you turn the volume down?" Benjamin was exasperated, then added, "Better yet, just mute yourself. I'll definitely write your manufacturer a thank-you letter."

The system sounded smug. "Really? I just came up with a groundbreaking discovery. Don't you want to know what it is?"

"..."

Benjamin was too exhausted to even complain. Since when had systems started doing research, too?

"Don't want to hear it? Fine, then I won't say anything," the system said petulantly.

"Please don't. Thank your whole family for me." Benjamin nearly applauded.

"Why can't you just follow the script?" the system snapped. "No, even if you don't want to hear it, you're going to listen! I worked on this for ages. Now listen up. Ahem..." As it spoke, it even pretended to clear its throat.

Why was a system clearing its throat...

Benjamin wanted to complain, but before he could, the system continued:

"Do you remember when Grant almost used divine arts to help you back at the castle?"

Benjamin sighed and could only nod along. "I remember, but he never actually used them. I did want to see what divine arts looked like. They seemed pretty powerful."

The system said, "You don't need to wonder anymore. You've already seen them."

Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. At least, I haven't seen divine arts with my own eyes since I came to this world. Don't count anything from before I crossed over."

The system seemed very pleased with itself. It didn't answer right away, instead teasingly keeping him in suspense until Benjamin was about to curse at it. Then it finally spoke, sounding triumphant.

"You didn't just see them. You've used them yourself." The system drew out the words. "Based on my analysis, magic and divine arts are the same thing at their core. Divine arts are magic, and magic is divine arts. You don't need to think of them as separate things."