The Runic Alchemist

However, there was one limiting factor he had overlooked: she couldn’t maintain more than two mana threads continuously for hours. She could push herself to do it, but it left her mentally exhausted.

Even with unlimited mana at hand, she could not use more than 7,000 to 10,000 mana points worth of liquid mana per minute with just two mana threads. The spells she could execute with that were barely advanced grade or lower, and even those left her mind exhausted. It seemed unlimited mana wasn’t truly unlimited for everyone—only for those who had mastered mana control. Even the best mage, like the Spellmaster, could not extend more than a fraction of the mana threads that Damian could. So, even with vast reserves of mana, they wouldn’t be able to accomplish as much as he could.

Still, if Vidalia could reach five to seven mana threads, her mana expenditure limit for third-rank spells would be easily covered, allowing her to use over 50,000–60,000 points worth of mana liquid per minute.

Only third-rankers could take full advantage of this liquid mana.

A more practical use, however, would be as a mana recharge. Anyone could use a single mana thread to refill their mana pool in minutes—even first-rankers, if they could manage to control one mana thread outside their body for a short time. This really could prove to be a true mana potion. Damian had never consumed liquid mana before, but he doubted it would be safe. Exposing his organs to such an intense concentration of mana all at once probably wasn’t a good idea. There were physical limits, after all. Maybe third-rankers could endure it—who knew? He could experiment if he ever got the chance…

They flew back in the evening, then spent some time wandering around the city with Lucian and the others before having dinner at the palace with Vidalia and Souldealer. They didn’t talk much, but Damian noticed Lucian, Grace, Einar, and Maelor acting as if they were in the presence of their parents—proper and noble. Meanwhile, Damian, Sam, and Reize focused more on the food and enjoying themselves, unconcerned with etiquette.

Evrin and Grace cast them repeated glances, but they paid no mind. Every so often, Damian noticed Vidalia watching him and Reize—perhaps she did mind his lack of noble decorum, even if just a little.

After dinner, Damian and Evrin were called to one of the palace’s open training areas. The night sky was clear, brimming with millions of stars and a bright moon. Alone with two elves, it could have been a romantic setting—but it wasn’t. This was going to be his first lesson in true spellcrafting.

Evrin seemed surprised to suddenly receive a class from Vidalia but didn’t question it. She paid full attention—her time with her aunt was always limited, and she had never truly received detailed, one-on-one instruction after her childhood training.

Vidalia wore a relaxed, silky noble dress, simple yet elegant. It wasn’t extravagant, but it still made her enchanting figure hard to ignore. She started pacing around them.

“The most basic requirement for learning to craft your own spells is a complete understanding of all the chants we commonly use,” she began. “The more spells you know, the better. Only after mastering them will you start to understand the true meaning of the words you speak. The ancient words and gestures are what form new spells.”

She turned and pulled a large leather book from her spatial storage, locking eyes with them.

“The truth is… all spells are driven by intent. It is the force that gives power to your spells—provided you have enough mana to support them. When learning spells, every word you chant has a meaning tied to your intent. A specific phrase in an ancient language produces an effect based on your personal understanding of it. For example, the phrase ‘Asara de Kalimi…’ You’ve both heard it in many fire-related spells, correct?”

They both nodded.

“Since childhood, I’ve associated that phrase with ‘produce fire.’ So, whenever I use it in a spell, that is the intent behind it in my mind. If I want to craft a new spell, I will use that phrase with the same intent.”

Damian and Evrin widened their eyes.

This wasn’t in any books. Damian had read maybe half the books on magic across the continent, and none explained spellcrafting like this. Texts often described it as an intimate process, requiring experience, knowledge, and deep understanding, but none had ever broken it down so simply.

Vidalia continued, “It doesn’t work if you force an association. Each mage develops their own understanding of spells over years of practice. This is why experience, curiosity, and deep comprehension of spell mechanics are crucial for spellcrafting. Scholars—who are often insignificant in battle—have created far more spells than powerful mages or warriors because they dedicate themselves to studying spell structures.”

“Wait a second, Aunt!” Evrin suddenly interrupted. “Are you saying ancient chants are purely subjective? That any words could count as spell chanting?”

Vidalia shook her head. “Yes and no. If you believe from the start that the chants are subjective, you will never form an intent for the established ancient words. That’s why this knowledge is kept obscure from the public. The language itself is subjective, but the association is not.

“If someone with no knowledge of spell chants but full control over mana manipulates it to create fire while uttering a word in their native tongue, that word becomes the chant for fire in their language. Others who learn from them will always associate that word with the same effect. However, if a person is left alone to develop spellcrafting from scratch, it would take them centuries to reach even an intermediate level. That’s why learning from an established system is crucial.”

She sighed before adding, “There is no way around this—except for people who are complete exceptions to the rule…”

She turned her gaze toward Damian. Discover hidden stories at My Virtual Library Empire

Evrin also realized what Vidalia was hinting at. The explanation had one clear implication: Damian had not learned spells the traditional way.