Judgment: The Heart of Magic
What’s the most important thing for mages? Judgment.
Chanting and writing spells quickly and accurately matters too. But deciding which spell to use is far more crucial. Take this example: suppose someone blasts a water cannon at me. I can just defend with fire or earth magic. Child’s play. But if lightning’s mixed in? Water’s worthless. The bolt rides the liquid right into me. So I’d have to raise an earth wall no matter what. Mix in enough of these little spells, and the deployment gets insanely complex. And that’s before you factor in free use of both hands or firing off dozens of spells at once. Climb higher up the ladder, and the sheer number of possibilities will make your head spin.
“That’s why most mages prepare a powerful defense spell separately. It guzzles mana, but case-by-case shielding is a nightmare.”
Godin chimed in right on cue with a perfect explanation. Mages prep strong defenses instead of crunching every variable. Only two bother with all the cases—and they wield purple mana. Your average caster makes do with inefficient blocks. Even in Soul World, nobody but the lunatics memorized every counter. And no, they weren’t veterans—they were straight-up maniacs. Hell, even I didn’t bother.
“But what I’m after is simple: one thing. Calculate every possibility and spit out the optimal counter. If the human brain can’t hack it, something else will. That’s where this research kicked off.”
“An idea like that still comes from a human brain, though. Is it even feasible?”
Grace tossed out a skeptical take, though her face brimmed with fascination—totally at odds with her words. Her reaction was dead normal, really. We’re talking computer-level magic in an era before computers were even dreamed up. Early ones were monsters of size, too. Godin wasn’t building machines, either.
“Who knows? Gotta try it to find out. Like I said, boredom sparked this. No need to overthink it. Plenty of gaps here and there anyway.”
“Even so, if it works... it’d hand every mage a rock-solid shield.”
“Exactly. Mages suck at defense, so this plugs the hole.”
Era limitations mean it’s defense-only, nothing like some all-seeing Jarvis. Still incredible, though. Wings on a tiger. Sure, you supply the mana yourself—but efficiency’s the point.
“Does it work against warriors, not just mages?”
“Yep. Analyzes the attack’s power and mana, then triggers the right defense mechanism.”
“Whoa... incredible. What about a meteor crashing from the sky?”
“It’d block it... but running’s smarter.”
Grace started skeptical but got hooked, firing off questions. Godin explained with boyish excitement. To me? Gibberish to a squirrel. He’d boiled it down to “artificial intelligence,” but it was really a bloated mess of modes. Lego apartment builder, was it? Spot-on metaphor. Magic’s limits? Nonexistent. It’d take ages to finish, but no sweat—I’d teach it later. That’s why I was buddying up with Godin bit by bit. Plus, the knowledge dump was gold.
“Anyway, that’s enough on my research. Time for red mana. Records are scarce, so I can’t dive deep. Bear with me.”
“Yeah.”
“Shall I start with mana’s origins?”
“No.”
Way too long. I’d read the books. Godin blinked at my flat refusal, then gave an awkward chuckle.
“You know it already, huh? Short version: mana splits into evolution and creation theories. Evolved for survival, or a divine gift.”
Earth would’ve backed evolution. But gods are real here—magic came from them—so creation carries weight. Fanatics abound. Lize once said evolution wouldn’t have sprouted without Chaos’s nudge.
“Red mana’s the same. Known as humanity’s first. Though some claim creatures used it before.”
“Hmm...”
“Somehow, the first mana—red—was injected into humanity. Evolved from there to now. That’s my take.”
Godin’s words sparked a thought. The word wouldn’t come. I stewed, gestured wildly, then spat it out.
“What was it? Y’know, that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Forced? Nah, man-made?”
“You mean artificial?”
“Yeah!”
Grace nailed it. My chest unclogged with a pop! She looked smug, pleased as punch.
“Heh. Gotta read minds for married life...”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing.”
She’d muttered something. Probably not important. Godin nodded like he got it too, stroking his chin before speaking in a puzzled tone.
“Like Sivar says, it feels artificial. Too potent for self-evolution, but the color nixes a god’s gift. Most just call it divine and move on.”
Earthling me saw contradictions galore. Here? “God’s gift” closes the book.
Humanity’s curious, though. Poking doubts birthed evolution theory—barely. Both sides reek of artificiality and holes. That’s what they fight over.
“So what is Sivar’s red mana?”
“Dunno. Fits creation... but he’s not dim. Evolution too. Byzantine trip later’d help.”
“Gonna go.”
Lord said the same. My existence is one big question mark—Byzantine it is. Vacation timing, maybe. Lize’d be there; perfect.
“Sorry I couldn’t help more. Records are ghosts.”
“Fine.”
Gods here are like that. Kidnapping a perfectly happy me? Rotten from the start. [Faith is ha······]
Faith is ha······
Except Chaos, of course. The thought triggered it—half-printed, then poof. Vanished mid-air. Absurd.
“That’s it. Any other questions?”
“Got one. Not a question.”
“What?”
“Hold on.”
Hit me after eyeing Godin’s formula. I stood and headed for the door. Godin and Grace shot me puzzled looks.
“Bathroom?”
“Nah.”
I cracked it open with a curt reply.
“Bringing someone.”
Who the hell’s he bringing? Godin’s head was spinning. Sivar pulled obvious stunts laced with eccentricity—like now. Drops “bringing someone” and bails? A normie would’ve been floored.
“Hmm... when’s Sivar back?”
“...”
“Grace?”
“Y-yes?”
Grace jumped at Godin’s question. Way more jumpy than usual. Shoulders slumped, eyes jittering. With Sivar around, she oozed confidence—now? Night and day.
“...You okay?”
“I... y-yeah... f-fine...”
Didn’t look fine. Godin clocked it. Truth was, Grace had always been like this. As his assistant, she acted chased by shadows—glaring his way now and then. Fragile as glass art on the verge of shattering.
Separation anxiety vibes...
Nearly Delphoi’s prey—man-fear made sense. Grace toughed it out; anyone else would’ve crumbled.
Does Sivar’s presence flip the switch?
Made sense. Her savior. Stability with him? Logical. Issue was overkill. Too much, and Sivar drifts; her state worsens. He’d watch for now—but if signs showed, time for a stern talk.
Why’d she latch onto that brute... such a shame.
Godin checked the clock, pity lingering. Twenty minutes gone. Grace’s anxiety ramped up—leg shakes to nail-gnawing. Wanted to stop her; she just flinched. Futile.
Hurry up... who’s he fetching?
Knock knock.
"Coming in."
The door swung wide on a familiar voice. Sivar’s face appeared. Grace lit up—for a split second. Then she froze at the newcomer.
“Isn’t this a lab? Why drag me here?”
“To show.”
“Show what?”
Shockingly, it was Jane. Fresh from the workshop in work clothes, blue hair sweat-stuck to her face. Beauty undimmed.
“...Sivar? Who’s she? Looks like a student.”
Grace scanned her head to toe as Godin asked, baffled. Expected someone specific—got a student. Blacksmith vibes, too.
“Genius.”
“Genius...?”
“Yeah. Works for my cash.”
“Hello! Jane Brennon, Engineering Department! Second year!”
Jane greeted with gusto amid the confusion. Greet first, sort later.
“Another girl... why always girls...”
“...”
Godin brushed off Grace’s mutter and eyed Jane. Engineering: non-combat. For theory work, he dabbled deep—physics, math, engineering, you name it. Magic-related? He devoured and mastered.
“Godin. Gimme that.”
“Huh?”
“Your research. For Jane.”
Sivar’s out-of-nowhere demand for the magic formula. Godin hesitated but nodded. Unfinished, over student level. Bare-bones theory.
He handed the paper. Jane adjusted her glasses and dove in.
“Hmm...”
“...”
Can she even get it? Jane’s mechanics; his magic. Santia fusion possible, but distinct fields. Low hopes.
Still, Sivar brought her—must be something.
Sivar didn’t waste effort. As they waited, Jane’s eyes widened. She blurted in awe:
“In-incredible! A formula that auto-computes endless cases...!”
“Hm?”
Godin’s squinted eyes popped. Nailed the principle from raw math.
Curiosity hooked: “You grasped the principle?”
“Of course! But it’s unfinished... mana hog, plus overheating risks.”
Spot-on—even he’d calculated it. Rare genuine smile; he extended a hand.
“Elaborate.”
“Yes! Inject mana here—resistance too high, so...”
The two geniuses plunged into deep debate. Sivar plopped by Grace. She scooted close on contact.
“Um... Sivar?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s that girl? Don’t tell me...”
Voice thick with suspicion. New rival?
Sivar eyed the engrossed pair—already in their own world.
“Genius.”
“Genius?”
“Yeah. And idiot.”
“...?”
Grace blinked. Contradictory as hell.
But perfect for Jane. Genius, sure—but idiot-gullible way too often.
“Jane, right? Swing by my lab sometime? I can share knowledge if needed.”
“Really? Thank you!”
“Psh. Don’t mention it.”
Godin’s squint-face spoke.
“I’m the thankful one?”
This time, his vibe matched the shady look perfectly.