The Way of the Dullards
"......"
Alkados fell silent.
Chanting a single spell divided among multiple people to accelerate the casting speed. It was a method he'd never even considered. No, Alkados couldn't even conceive of such a thing. Because there was no reason to cast magic that way in the first place.
"Kukukuk......"
The shadow laughed. It twisted its body as if it couldn't hold back the amusement.
"No, are you guys really this stupid? Or are you doing this on purpose to make me laugh? Dividing up the chant among several people? What does that even change? In the end, it's just Tolstone Tower mages—three of them—barely accomplishing what a single Kalsara Tower mage could do alone."
Dividing the chant sped up the computation. Parallel magic computation—the theory itself already existed. But no mages actually used magic that way. Because it was inefficient.
Parallel magic computation only accelerated the casting speed; the power remained the same. In other words, the result was identical, with only a slight shortcut in the process.
Being able to cast spells faster was a clear merit, but that was it—no other advantages.
Would anyone be impressed watching three mages team up to fire a single fireball? A Kalsara Tower mage could have launched three fireballs with those three. Maybe even more.
"What's so great about casting magic faster? Mage battles are decided by mana reserves, and mana reserves determine spell power. So even if you cast a bit quicker, you still lose on firepower. It's meaningless bullshit, and seeing you strut around like it's impressive is kinda disgusting."
Alkados wasn't a formal mage trained in a tower, but he was talented enough to uncover the secrets of mystery on his own. To him, the Tolstone Tower mages were nothing but pathetic, talentless worms.
Parallel magic computation? What the hell was the point?
"That's why street rats like you never make it. No foundation, that's what it is—no foundation. Hey, Alkados. If you've got a brain up there, use it. Or is that thing on your neck just for show?"
Vincent's sharp jab drew a "heh heh" from the shadow. Clear mockery.
"Trying to defend your tower's mages, huh. But Vincent, you know it too—how pointless parallel magic computation is."
Vincent smirked, lifting one corner of his mouth crookedly.
"Sure, parallel magic computation has no merits beyond faster casting. The results are pathetic compared to the manpower invested. Inefficient, right? So why do you think I taught it to my tower's mages?"
"Because your tower's mages are talentless worms?"
"This method gets better the more people you have."
"What?"
Vincent twirled a finger in the air.
"For short chants, parallel computation barely helps. At best, a one- or two-second difference. So yeah, like you said, it's useless. Herding a bunch of people just to cast a few seconds earlier is peak inefficiency."
But.
"What about long chants? Really long ones that take hours to cast?"
"......"
"Say we're casting Meteor. Even a grand mage needs a full day of focused chanting. But if a hundred people divide that chant? Twelve hours tops. Two hundred? Six hours. Three hundred? Four hundred? Five hundred? Think we could rain down Meteors every few hours?"
Of course, even with parallel computation, you couldn't spam Meteor-level spells. The mana drain per person was enormous. Plus, hundreds had to concentrate perfectly—one slip-up, and the mana dissipates. And Meteor was advanced magic; finding enough mages to handle even a fragment was tough.
In short, Vincent's assumption was impossible from the start.
"......"
For now, at least.
Alkados had a chilling premonition. What if those hack mages grew, boosting their mana pools? What if Tolstone Tower's mages multiplied, reducing the per-person mana burden? What if they became a massive force raining Meteors every few hours?
Shivers. He knew it was impossible, but still—shivers. Because Vincent was dead serious.
"......Ridiculous nonsense. If that worked, Kalsara Tower would've done it already."
"Nah, those guys wouldn't touch this crap. They're geniuses. Geniuses don't even think like this. It's the dullards' way. Something only idiots like us can come up with."
He was right. Alkados hadn't thought of such a crude method either.
"Vincent Tolstone. Your idea is dangerous. No chance of it working, but better to nip the bud. I'll kill you here."
"Think you can? You'd need to come yourself for a real fight. Just sit back and watch my tower's skills."
Vincent nodded, and the waiting mages began chanting in unison. Dividing the spell among three made the activation blindingly fast. Dozens of magic missiles streaked toward the intruders, who charged the mages in response.
"Haat!"
The intruders swung their weapons, but none reached the mages. Sturdy barriers protected them. The attackers tried smashing the shields, but they didn't even scratch. Instead, they took counterattacks from various spells.
Fast.
Yoahim watched in admiration. They weren't just dividing chants. They prepped fragmented spells and assembled them on the fly. Even defense wasn't plain shields—they wove fireball fragments into shield chants, creating blazing, ironclad barriers.
The intruders floundered against the ever-shifting magic. It was like prepping words and swiftly combining them into sentences. Quick, precise, flawless.
Yoahim marveled at the three mages moving as one. Individually, they lagged behind Kalsara mages. But together? Synergy beyond imagination. Now he got why Vincent said a mage's talent wasn't defined by mana alone.
"Gaaargh!"
Intruders dropped one by one—legs snapped, bodies aflame, limbs severed, dying horribly.
The fight was ending. Mages dominated. No reversal possible—unless Alkados himself intervened.
Wait... where'd the shadow go?
Yoahim glanced around at the sudden thought. Alkados's shadow clone was gone.
No way it fled. A disposable clone wouldn't run.
He scanned frantically and spotted it: right behind Vincent, who proudly watched his mages. Using the moonlit shadow, the clone crept for a backstab.
"Tower Master! Danger!"
The clone emerged from Vincent's shadow, swinging a razor-sharp shadow blade at his nape—aiming to pulverize his brain.
Yoahim launched himself. He body-checked Vincent aside and raised his arm to block. Crunch!
The blade sank into his arm. Fuck, that hurts like hell.
Yoahim grimaced, yanking the blade free with his good right hand.
"Haha! Pretty quick!"
The clone chuckled, slashing wildly. Yoahim parried, retreating step by step.
Fuck, it's just a clone—why's it so strong?
He was confident in swordplay, boosted by stats. A mere clone should've been easy. But this thing was insanely powerful. Each clash numbed his wrist, weakened his arm. He could match speed, but the power gap...
If the clone was this tough, how strong was the real deal? Getting hunted by Wichikill sounded way more dangerous than imagined.
Fuck, I was just self-defending—why am I stuck in this shit...?
"Daydreaming, punk?!"
Clang! "Ack!"
Distracted for a split second, the clone surged in. Yoahim's poor stance sent his blade flying.
This was death. Certain death. The straight thrust screamed it. The gleaming edge confirmed it.
Death.
Yoahim reacted on pure instinct.
"Inventory!"
Inventory open, oak staff out, fireball launched. Seamless, thoughtless speed.
BOOM!
Deafening roar, smoke billowed, heatwave hit. Yoahim exhaled raggedly, cold sweat dripping.
Black smoke cleared slowly.
Slash! "Gasp!"
The shadow endured. Distorted, but still moving—charging Yoahim.
"Get out of the way!"
KABOOM!
Another explosion, far deadlier. Yoahim tumbled from the blast at point-blank, rolling across the ground. He sprang up—nothing left. Not even the shadow.
He whipped around to Vincent. Mana concentrated at his fingertips, Vincent stared at the spot, a controlled storm—power unleashed only on the foe.
This... is the tower master's power.
The three mages were impressive, but Vincent's showed the true gap.
"Hey."
Vincent lowered his arm, confirming the shadow's erasure. Arms crossed, he glared at Yoahim.
"Who the hell are you?"