The Definition of Mana (2)
In essence, magic manifests in three primary forms.
The first.
One draws a frame known as a circle—or a circle—then adds strokes within it to complete a magic circle before channeling mana into the construct.
This is the most standardized method of casting, and the very definition of “using magic” has long rested upon it.
By inscribing a magic circle one establishes the foundation of the spell; thereafter, an incantation is layered atop it to stabilize the activation. That is the elementary procedure of magic.
The second.
One releases mana without a magic circle or incantation—or with only an incantation.
If one were to liken the components to modern conveniences, mana would be electricity, while magic circles and incantations would be the appliances and the plugs that harness it.
Attempting to cast with mana alone is therefore no different from trying to alter reality while possessing nothing but raw current.
Even so, just as a high-voltage discharge can lightly roast a person, simple elemental spells—Light, Create Water, Wind Cutter, and the like—can be managed by anyone whose control of mana is sufficiently refined.
The third.
One employs a magic tool.
A mana stone is inserted into a catalyst already engraved with a magic circle. The method’s advantage is that neither personal mana nor any knowledge of magic is required; its limitation is that the effect can never exceed what the inscribed circle permits.
Of these three, the first is the method universally employed by mages. That Felix had used a magic circle was mildly surprising, yet from a mage’s perspective it was nothing extraordinary.
After all, Remillion herself routinely drew magic circles in midair with fire-aspected mana and cast through them.
“Good heavens.”
Yet the moment Remillion laid eyes on Felix’s magic circle, her mouth fell open of its own accord.
“How many strokes are in that thing? No—wait—he nested additional circles inside the outer circle and crossed them? And what is that? The circles are interlocked like gear teeth!”
The circle itself was a flawless, perfectly true form; the strokes packed into every available space without the slightest gap. And he had not drawn it on paper—he had fixed it in empty air. Remillion could only stare in stupefaction.
Why is casting so vital to a mage?
Because the ritual of drawing the magic circle is itself of paramount importance.
The very first skill one learns upon beginning to handle mana is the perfect inscription of a circle.
The circle of a magic circle is the foundation of every spell; before a magic can be realized, it is the single most critical component that guarantees a stable supply of mana and raises the success rate of the casting.
Should the circle warp even a fraction, the spell either fails to activate or the mana supply runs wild and detonates.
Once the circle is complete, the strokes must be added.
Take the most elementary offensive spell, Fireball, as an example.
First, a stroke is placed at the center to convert attribute-less mana into the fire element. Then size, duration, range—every parameter is calculated and rendered as additional strokes until the precise activation conditions are satisfied. There must be no error in the process, and the proper quantity of mana must be supplied to the circle. Only then does the spell fire.
How complex a discipline magic is—and how few can ever master it—becomes clear when one realizes that even a basic Fireball requires a novice months, sometimes years, of practice before the circle can be drawn in empty air rather than on paper. That is why true mages are vanishingly rare.
Of course, a mage of Remillion’s caliber could produce ten Fireballs in the blink of an eye; the art demands both talent and relentless effort.
Countless mana circuits are turning exactly like gears—this is impossible!
Even after recovering from the shock that Felix had cast at all, Remillion continued to study the circle he had woven. Her spectacles slid askew.
What hung before her eyes could not be explained by talent or diligence alone.
A single spell normally contained three or four circles at most. The vast construct before her held, at a glance, more than ten circles large and small.
It was the sort of magic circle a student might doodle on paper as a joke and then claim was a real spell—in other words, it should have been impossible.
Yet the strokes left not a single empty space; they were packed with a thoroughness that bordered on madness. And still the mana flowed without the slightest deviation, the circle operating with perfect smoothness.
“What… is that?”
“That’s supposed to be a magic circle?”
“It’s just a drawing. How is that magic?”
“But… it looks like it’s actually activating, doesn’t it?”
Even Professor Remillion could not fully analyze Felix’s mana circuits and could only gape. The students who studied under her, of course, had no idea how extraordinary the sight truly was; they merely whispered among themselves.
“Mana is a resource for the use of magic. That statement is not entirely wrong, I think.”
Bathed in the radiant afterglow of the magic circle that lit the dim lecture hall, Felix stepped out from behind the podium, stretching his legs as he spoke.
“But I hold a slightly different view.”
Clap—
Flash—
The instant Felix’s palms met in a crisp, cheerful clap, the students’ and Remillion’s field of vision began to change.
The cramped, darkened classroom melted away, replaced by the heart of a sunlit meadow where a gentle breeze whispered through the grass.
“Wh-where…?”
“Is this… an illusion?”
“Illusion magic?”
The abrupt transformation might have made them faint, yet even these fledglings had already set foot on the path of magic; they immediately concluded that the scene was a phantasm conjured by spellcraft.
“An illusion…? No. This is no mere illusion…!”
Remillion, a step ahead of them, realized that what she beheld was not a simple phantasm. She bent without thinking and reached for the grass growing at her feet.
Illusion magic converts the caster’s imagination into mana and projects that imagination upon those caught within the spell. Consequently, one should be able to feel exactly what the caster imagined.
If this were proper illusion magic, the moment her fingers closed on the blades she ought to have felt their texture.
Instead, the grass slipped through her grasp like a mirage. She felt neither the scent of the meadow nor the caress of the breeze—nothing at all.
Only when her fingertips brushed the blades did the grass ripple faintly, releasing a delicate blue shimmer of the mana that composed it.
Which meant that every vista before them was not a fleeting dream woven of illusion magic, but a solid construct of mana made real and displayed to everyone in the lecture hall.
And Remillion’s astonishment did not end there.
Creating solid forms from mana was something she herself could do. But to blanket an entire room in such constructs in an instant, and to make them feel so authentic that one mistook them for illusion magic, required real-time calculation of every minute motion—each blade of grass swaying in the wind—followed by continuous rewriting of the magic circle and the precise injection of matching mana.
Behind Felix the magic circle was still shifting without pause, confirming that her hypothesis was correct.
Yet for all the ease with which the words could be spoken, the feat was equivalent to claiming one could fly by simply crossing one’s feet rapidly in midair.
“This world is a single sculpture, and mana is the tool with which one may carve it. That is how I see it.”
Clap—
Whoosh—
“This time… a snow mountain?”
“Eek…! It’s so high!”
Felix’s hands met again. In the next breath they stood upon the snow-laden summit of a desolate peak, far removed from the peaceful meadow.
Even knowing the yawning, wind-scoured gorge was only a mana-wrought phantom, the sheer drop was enough to send a chill racing down every spine.
“What does it mean to walk the path of magic? The path of magic is walked by those who distort reality, twist it, and carve a road of their own.”
“Those who walk it are of every kind, and each follows a different road.”
“Some roads are gentle; others are choked with thorns and mire.”
Clap—
“Waaah!?”
“Kyaa!?”
Another clap, and the freezing summit vanished. The students found themselves suspended in midair above the crater of an active volcano where lava and magma boiled and seethed; they screamed.
“Yet we are mages—walkers of the path of magic.”
“And the steadfast companion that always walks beside us, the means we wield, the subject we must study for a lifetime—that, I believe, is mana.”
Clap—
The world changed once more.
They floated upon a small boat on a lake that mirrored a night sky glittering with stars and two luminous full moons. The scene was so dreamlike and beautiful that it felt as though they were swimming among the heavens themselves rather than upon water.
“As you walk your own path of magic there will be times when the going feels joyful, times when it feels grueling, times when it feels slow, times when it feels swift.”
“Countless obstacles and mind-tangling problems will continue to circle you.”
“Even so, I hope you will never give up.”
“Do not place limits upon your thinking.”
“Rather than regarding mana as a mere resource, dig into this world, impose your will upon it, and become a legendary swindler who can deceive even the goddess herself.”
Magic, after all, is the art of deceiving others, deceiving the world, and deceiving oneself.
Once everything has been deceived, the lie ceases to be a lie and becomes reality.
“Then your mana—your path of magic—will open a road upon which anything may be achieved.”
Clap—
“Hah…!? Hah…!?”
“We were… we were just on a lake a second ago…”
“Was that an illusion…? It felt so real…”
With Felix’s final clap the students found themselves back in the lecture hall as it had been before the curriculum began. Hearts still hammering, they gasped for breath and muttered blankly.
“My name is Felix Evergarden. I am the professor in charge of this semester’s liberal-arts course, Basic Understanding of Mana.”
“I have prepared a rich curriculum so that you may truly grasp the foundations of mana. I hope you will look forward to it.”
“With that, this session is concluded.”
The magic circle that had blazed so brilliantly a moment earlier gradually lost its light and vanished completely. Felix surveyed the classroom and offered a light bow; his demeanor was so unremarkable that it was hard to believe he had just performed the magic they had witnessed.
Every blade of grass, every snowflake, every drop of lava, every starlight had been individually manipulated by mana—an expenditure that would have left an ordinary mage collapsed from mana exhaustion in under a minute.
“.........”
“.........”
“.........”
The students who watched the unflappable Felix Evergarden’s bow simply stared at one another in silence.
Clap—clap—
Then, from the rear of the lecture hall, a small but steady sound of applause began.
Clap—clap-clap—
Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap—
The applause spread like wildfire through the sparse gathering of students. One by one they joined in, until at last every person rose to their feet and delivered a standing ovation.
And that was Honorary Professor Felix Evergarden’s first legendary lecture.