Advanced Spellcraft: The Third Lecture
Having finished her break after the third session of Advanced Spellcraft, Arienael entered the lecture hall without even eating lunch and took her seat. Professor Cauli was already there, as usual. In the context of the entire university, someone like Atwill, who arrived exactly on time, was the unusual case. Enthusiastic professors like Cauli often came early and waited in the classroom, while the tenured elders, free from worries, would slip in fashionably late.
Today's lecture topic was elemental magic. Professor Cauli began in his gentle voice.
"From today, we'll disassemble the spell formulas of individual spells one by one. Let's start with the most basic: elemental magic."
Elemental magic was the simplest yet most powerful form of magic. It could even be called the foundation of all magic. Its spell formulas were relatively straightforward, making it the starting point for lectures across spellcraft, mana operation, and spell composition in the magic department.
"Elemental magic. It's what you learn first when studying magic, so it should feel very familiar. Ah, of course, not for everyone. But even those folks would have learned it early on."
Professor Cauli corrected himself, mindful of Arienael. As an elf, she had likely awakened to nature magic or spirit arts before elemental magic.
"Simply casting basic elemental spells like Ignition or Water Creation doesn't require understanding the formula at all."
Professor Cauli drew the spell formulas for Ignition, Water Creation, Gentle Breeze, and the like. They were simple magic circles: a single circle, the symbol for each element, and a few auxiliary strokes in thick lines. For these basic spells, the size of the magic circle and the caster's mana amount mattered most—understanding the formula had little impact. Even mana operation techniques were so simple they couldn't create much difference.
"But once you move beyond the basics, you can't ignore the formula. The reason you're taking this class is to use advanced spells that demand a higher level than undergraduate majors, right?"
Arienael felt a twinge of embarrassment at that point.
"So now, you need to understand the formula, not just memorize it. Every single circle, shape, rune, and stroke in a spell formula has meaning. Let me illustrate with a spell you all probably know."
Professor Cauli began drawing another magic formula in the air. As the overall shape took form and reached the finishing stage, even Arienael, who knew little about spell formulas, could immediately tell what it was. It was that famous, familiar, and commonly used.
Fireball. Among fire-element attack spells, it was the most widely used. Larger-scale fire spells were reserved for massive battles. Lower-tier fire elemental magic didn't suit combat purposes well.
"This is the spell formula for the ever-famous Fireball, which most of you have probably cast before. But even for such a well-known spell, few grasp the full meaning of its formula."
Fireball wasn't easy enough for just anyone to cast. But this was a magic university, and the students were mages who had reached a certain level. Even across the entire magic department—not just spellcraft majors—few hadn't tried Fireball.
Arienael was one of those rare exceptions. Not that she couldn't cast it; she just didn't bother, since summoning spirits was far more convenient and powerful.
"Fire elemental magic has many uses. It's common in industry and research too, of course. But combat is indispensable."
'Fire' was the simplest and most intuitively destructive element. It packed more punch than 'water', 'earth', 'wind', 'ice', 'light', or even 'lightning'. Among elements, 'fire' was the most specialized for destruction. That's why it saw heavy combat use.
Yet Fireball was the hardest basic elemental attack spell to master. Many mages could use all other elemental attacks but not Fireball. Whether a mage could cast Fireball greatly influenced their pay in adventurer guilds or the military. It was highly efficient, and beyond it, there were no other versatile fire attack spells. If a mage couldn't cast Fireball, it was like sealing off one element in combat.
"So why is this spell so difficult? Other elements don't have basic attack spells this tough."
Four more magic circles appeared beside the Fireball formula: Lightning Arrow, Ice Dart, Rapid Stream, and Wind Blade. They represented basic attack spells for lightning, ice, water, and wind. Earth and light weren't combat-oriented, so these were the main ones.
"Anyone who can cast Fireball can handle those four with ease. But not vice versa. Plenty of mages master those four fluently but can't do Fireball."
Unless someone specialized solely in fire or had a unique constitution, Fireball was always the last of those five spells to master.
One student answered, "It's more powerful, right?"
"True, Fireball's power is the greatest. But conversely, why doesn't fire have easier spells, even if weaker?"
When the students couldn't answer, Professor Cauli continued. "Fire is specialized for combat, so shouldn't combat spells be the easiest to learn?"
Another student replied to his question. "The stroke count in the magic circle is different."
Exactly. The four additional circles had similar stroke counts despite different shapes: two circles, three or four shapes, 4-8 runes, and a matching number of auxiliary strokes.
But Fireball had three circles from the start. Each contained an inscribed equilateral triangle, and the largest had a hexagon inside. The two smaller ones had circumscribed inverted triangles. That alone made six shapes, plus auxiliary shapes and extra strokes in the largest circle. And 12 runes.
"Yes, that's right. But my question goes deeper: 'Why does Fireball need so many strokes?' Can't the fire element form an attack spell formula with fewer?"
Professor Cauli began removing parts from the Fireball formula: one circle, a large hexagon, two small triangles, six runes. Now it resembled the other elemental attacks.
"These strokes have no effect on manifesting Fireball itself."
"So it fires without them?"
"Yes, much simpler and more efficient."
The students waited for what came next. If they were truly meaningless, no one would use the current Fireball formula.
And sure enough, Professor Cauli explained their purpose. "Except for one issue: safety. Casting Fireball with this simplified formula, the caster's hand takes the biggest hit—not the target."
Some students gasped.
"The parts I removed are all auxiliary strokes to protect the caster. For Lightning Arrow, proper electrode placement prevents shocking yourself. Rapid Stream and Wind Blade have built-in directionality to avoid backlash. Cold has weaker aftereffects and is easier to mitigate."
Professor Cauli removed a small triangle and two auxiliary strokes from Ice Dart. That was enough, he implied.
"But for the most destructive and aggressive Fireball, you need all these auxiliary formulas to protect the caster. That's why terrorists favor fire magic. Ditching the auxiliaries for pure firepower makes it unmatched."
Without regard for self-preservation, channeling everything into maximum output could multiply a fire spell's power several times beyond normal. Of course, it ignored the caster's safety entirely.
"What if we adjust the origin point?" Arienael raised her hand. If Fireball launched from somewhere other than the caster's hand, wouldn't the auxiliaries be unnecessary? She didn't know elemental magic well, but she'd seen an example recently.
"Changing the origin makes it far harder on its own. Elemental magic fundamentally lacks a target. Even the origin needs to be fixed, so it's centered on the caster."
Professor Cauli kindly explained despite the basic question.
"That's incomparable to protecting your hand with auxiliary strokes. Unless you're an elemental spell expert, even full focus only shifts it a few meters. For small spells, drawing protective formulas is easier; for large-scale ones, a few meters away still engulfs you anyway."
Arienael recalled Professor Atwill's first lecture. He'd activated four light spells from at least ten meters away, adjusting each individually. They were silent casts too. Was that such an advanced level?
She wasn't sure whether to admire Atwill's skill or sigh at him using it to chide students.
"This is a bit off-topic from today's theme, but I should mention it now: every spell affects the caster too. Not just the aftereffects—the act of casting itself impacts you."
Mages who delved too deeply into one spell line often ended up twisted somehow. Physical injury or disability was the better outcome; mental derangement or mana rampage was common.
At this point, a question arose in Arienael. But it wasn't something she could ask Professor Cauli.
So what effect were Atwill's 3D formulas having on him?
I wrapped up the explanation with a few examples, and class time was already over. The students' attitudes were unusually poor today. They could barely focus—it was frustrating. Even Stella Rackton wasn't responding much this time. On the way out after class, she didn't say a word to me.
Was her business with me done? But nothing had really happened. Probably nothing major.
I shrugged it off, left the lecture hall, and headed to my lab. Or tried to.
I hadn't even exited yet when someone called me.
"Professor Atwill."
It was the magic department chair. Had he been waiting for class to end?
"Got a moment?"
I glanced back inside the lecture hall door. Stella was smiling at me, just like old times.
"What's this about?"
"The proposal you submitted—it's approved. Research funds should arrive soon."
The chair said it casually, then added offhandedly. My gut told me this was the real point.
"Oh, and someone wants to meet you."