Chapter 7: Unraveling Magic

The number of spell slots a spellcaster can draw from the Weave each day is quite limited, determined jointly by their spellcasting class level and the mental attribute required for casting—Intelligence for wizards, Wisdom for clerics, and Charisma for sorcerers and bards. Yet, there is a special exception: zero-level spells. The magical energy contained in zero-level spell slots is so meager that, in theory, a spellcaster can draw an unlimited number of them from the Weave. Of course, the reality is not so straightforward. Spellcasting is an exhausting mental activity; even repeatedly casting simple cantrips consumes considerable energy. Over time, fatigue makes it difficult to maintain focus, and the success rate of casting plummets.

With spell slots in hand, the spellcaster must next consider what to actually do with this pure magical energy. It is like the heat obtained from burning coal—it can be used for warmth, for lighting, or for cooking. The energy itself has no inherent utility; its effectiveness depends on the creativity and execution of its user. The same is true for magical energy: all spell slots of the same level contain identical energy, but when combined with different spell structures, they can be transformed into spells with dramatically different effects. For example, the “Mage Hand” and “Introspection” spells that Joan currently knows are both zero-level cantrips, yet their functions are entirely different, the distinction lying in their divergent structures.

To learn a new spell, one must first ensure they possess the corresponding spell slot. The main challenge then becomes deconstructing and analyzing the structure of the spell, understanding its configuration and operational principles, so that the spell is mastered with proficiency.

The structure of the vast majority of spells can be divided into three elemental components: seeds, rules, and material components.

The “seed” is the basic module that defines a spell’s characteristics, usually consisting of one or more strings of varying lengths. For instance, the seeds of “Mage Hand” are “force field” and “remote manipulation.”

The “rules” component encompasses a broader range, including the method of casting, area of effect, saving throw difficulty, and so on—essentially a procedural “syntax” or “algorithm.” Spell rules are not immutable; modifying them, however, typically requires tapping into higher levels of magical energy, necessitating the use of higher-level spell slots. There are countless techniques for altering spell rules, collectively known as “metamagic.” For example, by applying the "Silent Spell" metamagic technique to “Mage Hand,” one can cast the spell without incantation, at the cost of raising its spell level—at least a first-level spell slot is required to silently cast the zero-level “Mage Hand.”

The final element of spell structure is the “material component.” Some spells require specific materials or instruments to be successfully cast, and the spell’s efficacy is closely tied to these components. Altering the material may result in spell failure or a change in the spell’s function.

Take, for instance, the second-level “Web” spell, which requires a bit of spider silk as its material component. Upon successful casting, it creates a vast, sticky, and resilient web, covering a designated area or entangling a specified target. If, during casting, the material is changed—say, substituting a cocoon for spider silk—the resulting creation will not be a web but a large piece of silk fabric. The spell ceases to be “Web” and would be more aptly named “Weave.”

When Joan first read about the transformation of “Web” into “Weave” in a book, a whimsical thought struck him: if “Weave” could use a small amount of silkworm silk to produce a large bolt of fine fabric, would this not be a shortcut to riches?

As his understanding of magical lore deepened, he had to abandon this naïve fantasy. Whether conjured web or silk, magical creations cannot be preserved for long; once the magic fades, they vanish on their own. “Weave” cannot make an honest spellcaster rich overnight, but it might open a convenient door for swindlers.

Step-by-step analysis of a spell’s three elements is the fundamental method used by most wizards in the world of Valles. Though this arcane method appears simple, each stage is rife with subtleties—the deeper one delves, the more complex it becomes. Ultimately, humanity learned the secrets of magic from the elves, and most existing spell formulas are still written in Elvish—also called “Quenya.” To fully comprehend a spell’s operational principles, Joan must translate Elvish into the less precise human tongue as he analyzes the structure, making the task doubly complex. A single minor mistranslation can lead astray, wasting vast amounts of time and energy.

A wizard’s efficiency in parsing a new spell depends chiefly on their accumulated knowledge and intelligence. Perhaps due to the two-point intelligence increase granted by the “Tear of the Gods,” Joan found his mind especially sharp today, and his analysis of “Ray of Frost” proceeded unusually smoothly.

He had now completed the first stage—the deconstruction of the spell’s “seed”—and determined that “Ray of Frost” belongs to the “Evocation” school, in the “Cold” subclass, with its crucial triggering phrase successfully deciphered.

“Ray of Frost” requires no material components, omitting one element; Joan’s next task was to analyze the spell’s rules, the most intricate and challenging aspect.

Joan worked relentlessly deep into the night. Eventually, not even the effects of the “Tear of the Gods” could overcome the accumulated exhaustion of prolonged mental exertion. His headache grew worse, and he could no longer focus. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from the book, only to realize his stomach was cramping from hunger, burning with discomfort. His heart pounded, and he felt utterly drained.

He drained his cup of cold water in one gulp, steadied himself, and with difficulty stood up. He made his way to the kitchen, swallowed a piece of stale bread, and felt a little more at ease. By chance, he noticed that the window to the neighboring bedroom was still open. Approaching for a look, he saw through the window that Conti was sitting on her bed, her head bowed, forehead resting on her drawn-up knees, hands clutching the sides of her head—she seemed to be in great pain.

Joan watched her from outside the window for a moment, then returned to the kitchen. He wrote a note, placed the remaining food on a plate, and set both the plate and the note on Conti’s desk by her window.

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