Were spells programs?

"You saved me," Rhode said to Lilia.

"You were so brave. You're the one who drove the spider away." Lilia smiled and pointed at the white cocoon beneath the tree. "He's the one who needs us to save him."

Being praised by a little girl left Rhode a bit embarrassed.

So he went over to tear open the white cocoon, which was still wriggling.

He had already punctured a layer of webbing with the pitchfork, so tearing it open was easier now.

Then a boy of about ten poked his head out, still crying.

He had clearly been terrified.

"It's the Fabulons' boy." Rhode recognized him.

Rhode lifted Little Fabron out of the cocoon, wiped him clean, then asked, "How did you end up here? Where's your family?"

Little Fabron sobbed as he spoke. "Boohoo... I... I sneaked out to play... I rode my pony Blanchy out here... My mom and dad don't know... Boohoo..."

"It's all right. You're safe now. Don't cry, there's a good boy," Rhode soothed him gently. "Where's your pony?"

"When I rode here, the big spider caught me. Blanchy got scared and ran away too. She probably... probably went home on her own." Little Fabron stopped crying, but he was still sniffling.

"Let's hurry and take him home," Rhode said, turning to Lilia. "If the Fabulons see the pony come back without their boy, they'll be worried."

"Open these cocoons too." Lilia pointed beneath the tree.

Oh, right. We came here to find her spellbooks. I almost forgot.

But these white cocoons were much harder to tear open.

Rhode was panting with exhaustion by the time he managed to open them one by one.

All he really did was tear a hole in each and peek inside.

Some held animal carcasses-rabbits and wolves-while others contained everyday objects, bottles and jars, and even a completely undamaged robe.

This was a giant spider that liked collecting things.

In the last cocoon, he finally found a little schoolbag.

"It's my schoolbag!" Lilia cried happily.

Rhode retrieved the schoolbag, wiped it off a little, then handed it to Lilia.

As for the things in the other cocoons, he took the lightweight robe along and left the rest.

When Rhode brought Little Fabron home, his family naturally thanked him profusely.

After leaving Southshore, Rhode looked back and saw the Fabulons and some other townspeople, about a dozen in all, still standing at the crossroads.

Rhode gave them a small wave, signaling that he was leaving and they should head back.

Then those dozen or so people suddenly bowed deeply, as though paying their respects to Rhode.

The three Fabulons bowed even lower, their heads almost touching the ground.

"Rhode's a great hero! Rhode's a great hero!" Lilia said, skipping along.

Rhode was a little embarrassed, but he still enjoyed it.

Being a hero really does feel better than being a farmer!

"You're the real hero. I didn't expect you to know Fireball," Rhode said. "Without your fireball, we couldn't have saved Little Fabron."

"Too bad my Fireball is so weak. It couldn't kill the spider."

"When we get back, let's study together. Then you'll be able to kill spiders."

"You study. I'll just teach you."

"...Why won't you study yourself?"

"I don't like learning magic. It's enough if you learn it. Then we can go adventuring together!"

Well, an elf who didn't like magic? That was certainly unusual.

Once they reached the farm, Lilia pulled off her headscarf, revealing her pointed ears.

It was a good thing she had that headscarf. Otherwise, who knew whether the people of Southshore would have made a fuss over seeing a High Elf?

Lilia opened her schoolbag.

Inside were six books, all written in Elvish.

Rhode looked over their covers.

"Rommath's Basic Spell Theory."

"Practical Spell Ward Techniques."

"Fireball: From Beginner to Mastery."

"Jumping to Dodge Frost Nova: A Broader Discussion."

"Eighteen Practical Applications of Mage Hand."

"The Complete Guide to Utility Spells."

Elven elementary school students had to study this much?

With such a heavy workload, no wonder Lilia hated studying. No wonder she had skipped class and run away from home.

Rhode picked up "Rommath's Basic Spell Theory."

Judging by the title, this was probably a foundational subject, like language or math, while the other books likely covered practical magic-frost, fire, arcane, and the like.

Rhode flipped through a few pages.

It really was difficult to understand.

Terms like "energy circuits" and "spell nodes" came up repeatedly. When those terms were combined with other words, Rhode struggled to make sense of them.

Still, it was better than simply listening to Lilia explain things yesterday. Back then, she had jumped straight into teaching him how to cast an alarm ward, without mentioning any magical fundamentals!

Having a textbook like this made all the difference. After all, Rhode had to learn magic from scratch, one step at a time.

"Read it first. If you don't understand something, I can teach you," Lilia said. "But I fall asleep really easily."

"You understand all of it?"

"I do. I just don't like studying."

"Because you fall asleep whenever you study."

"Right, but now I'm going to try hard to stay awake," Lilia said with a smile. "So Rhode can learn magic properly and go adventuring with me!"

Rhode nodded and began reading seriously.

Lilia explained things beside him, especially whenever he came across something he didn't understand.

Having someone point out the essentials really made a difference. Rhode could skip all those long-winded rules and get straight to the point.

To his surprise, Rhode also discovered that if he interpreted the book's explanations through a modern person's way of thinking, the principles of magic weren't actually that complicated.

The caster simply expended their own mana, then connected different spell nodes through different energy circuits to cast a spell.

Mastering different ways of connecting the nodes meant mastering different kinds of magic.

The more powerful the spell, the more circuits and nodes it required, along with a greater mana cost and a longer chanting time.

The more proficient the caster was with a spell, the less mana it consumed and the shorter the chanting time became.

As he read further, Rhode could even abstract the sample spells described in the book into a spatial diagram in his mind.

The diagram resembled the spatial models he used to imagine when solving geometry problems, except that this model was more complex, made up of numerous blue nodes.

Between the nodes ran red lines, which connected them together.

The blue nodes were like individual points in a spatial model, while the red lines entered from the left, followed a series of complex paths, and emerged on the right.

The left side could be considered the spell's input, and the right side its output.

The nodes in between were the steps that processed the input.

Isn't this just how computer programs work?

A bunch of ifs and elses, then an output at the end.

Is that how all spells work?

If so, learning them shouldn't be hard.

Rhode turned to Lilia and asked, "When you cast a spell, do you first imagine a spatial diagram in your mind, then release the magic along the paths in that diagram?"

"What spatial diagram?" Lilia shook her head. "I just remember how to cast the spell, then recite the incantation."

It seemed elves had an innate affinity for magic. The spatial diagrams he had abstracted were probably deeply imprinted in their minds, without any need for them to truly understand them.

It was a bit like children learning their native language. Somehow, they simply picked it up, but when they grew up and learned a foreign language, they needed more structured methods, such as studying grammar.

Incantations were most likely a way to quickly invoke a magical "program," like entering a command to call a function when programming.

And maybe I have this spatial sense because I was a code monkey in my previous life?

If his reasoning was right, he could theoretically cast magic without chanting, provided he channeled mana along the correct paths in the spatial model in his mind.

He could even use different paths to cast different spells.

He wondered what risks that might involve.

"What happens if I don't follow the book's rules when casting a spell?" Rhode asked.

"If you're lucky, you'll create a new spell," Lilia replied.

"And if I'm unlucky?"

"You'll suffer magical backlash. Most of the time, you won't be lucky."

"Magical backlash? What happens then?"

"In mild cases, you get a nosebleed, feel dizzy and muddleheaded, things like that. You feel unwell."

"And in serious cases?"

"You blow your own head up."

"Oh... Then I'd better stick to the lessons."