"Your investor is currently discussing where to store the excess wheat," Magister Mulligan announces as I peruse the Omnium Compendium.

I raise my gaze to meet the old man's.

"She's really up to something, isn't she? What do you think it might be? Just wanting a bigger stake in the whole thing?"

"Perhaps."

"Listen, old man. I have a question…"

"Yes, young Luciani?" Magister Mulligan deadpanned, probably having already read my mind.

"Why can't you read her mind instead of us doing this [Spy] stuff? You always do it with me. Why's Marcella off-limit?"

"I can only read your mind, young Luciani, because of the strong bond between you and the Omnium Compendium. The tether between you and my Relic is what I use to get glimpses of your memories, knowledge, and current thoughts. Unless you want to cede the Omnium Compendium to that Elf, I will not be able to read her mind without extensive use of Mind Magic. While it’s not my realm of expertise, I could still extract information before completely destroying her brain. Do you want me to do that?"

"Jesus," I say, recoiling, "no, obviously. I don't want to kill Clodia's mother over information. I'm just confused as to why she would want to fuck us over."

"So, you plan on… how did you call it?" The old man with the huge hat on his head asks.

"Speedrun my magical education," I say as I pore over the instructions for the next Cantrip.

"It took you two months to reach Cantrip 156, Joey Luciani."

"That’s why we'll brute-force it with [Threading Mind], old man."

"You might die."

"I might," I say, staring at him seriously. "But nothing else is working. I can't be a [Mage], a [Warrior], and a Baker. However, I could be a [Magical Warrior Baker], no?"

The man says nothing in reply.

"Well, I'll take it as a tacit approval," I say, returning to the book. "These damn Cantrips about capacitance and storage are messing with me, I swear. Capacitors inside a spell matrix… now, that's just cuckoo."

"Your progress might allow you to carry out the rest of your magical education in four months, young Luciani. Four months if you fully focus on it."

"Too long," I say, without even looking up from the book as I activate [Advanced Mana Sense] and [Deep Focus], starting to draw a spell matrix in the air. "Amplitude and frequency were easy enough. But when the Omnium Compendium jumped from the first three sets to resistance and conductance, well, things got pretty interesting, didn't they?"

Not just interesting; they got actually hard. Now, every Cantrip could take up to an hour of my time unless I had a lightbulb going off in my head immediately. In fact, alternating between magic and the rest of my activities might have benefitted me, if anything. Normally, considering how much harder Cantrips were getting and how spookily they resembled a course in electrical engineering, I would have said that a week would have been barely enough to get through two sets—three with some solid luck.

But what I had seen in Lucinda's purple eyes was a huge hint for what to do next. She wasn't going to the Nine Asses Academy—her, the same person who had been single-handedly focused only on magic for years. Now, what did that mean? It meant that I, the guy who had been wanting to bake and only bake since the first moment I landed in Amorium, didn't need to go through everything at once to become a [Baker].

Something ignited in my chest while Lucinda was speaking to me.

[Baker], I smiled. It was as if it had always been in front of me, right?

The problem was that I was still seeing everything as a separate thing from my main realm of expertise. Sure, maybe I was a hero, maybe I was a legendary [Warrior] and a [Mage] with a tremendous talent. But what if I wasn’t exactly that? What if I had to go through something else? What If it was exactly that something else that I had been missing?

Looking at it from Lucinda's perspective has massively helped me consolidate a new plan. It is time for action, to be bold and take risks. That's why I put Laurealia in charge of the bakery and, later, asked Flaminia to start teaching…

I shake my head.

It's time to focus…

"Old man, this looks extremely complicated. Turn that skill on."

"Young Luciani, you don't seem to understand how much damage you might suffer."

"It's okay. You always yap about the Vanedeni being stupidly fearless, no? The first time you used the skill on me, I managed to use that Dreamscape of yours and got myself an inheritance skill. It's time to be ambitious and arrogant if I want to force this stupid world to give me the class I deserve. Do you think something like [Hero Baker] sounds better or worse than [Baker Hero]?"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Magister Mulligan raised his hand, and a golden halo, together with crushing pressure, suddenly enveloped my head.

[Threading Mind]

Suddenly, my thoughts seemed to enter a bubble of slowed-down time.

I nod, pondering the parallels between spell matrices and electrical systems. In electrical circuits, capacitance refers to the ability of a system to store an electric charge. Capacitors are components that can store and release energy, much like a battery, but they do it in a different way – specifically, through an electric field generated between two metal plates. Can it be that a spell matrix operates similarly?

Like a circuit, spells require precision, proper channels for flow, akin to conductors, and stability to function efficiently.

Intriguing, I think with my heightened mental functions.

"Young Luciani," the man says from the side, "your body cannot take the spell for long."

I cringe as I look at Magister Mulligan and just shake my head.

"Just… heal me?"

The old man looks troubled but nods back. The blood that was starting to drip from my nose immediately stopped as Magister Mulligan washed my body over with what I think is a [Restoration] spell.

Now, let's try to make this fun. I say, looking back at the Cantrip.

‘For the One-Hundred Fifty-Sixth Cantrip, Magister Mulligan wants you to cast a stored [Light] that can be activated by triggering the pre-made spell with your Mana.’

This was the first Cantrip that asked me to add a trigger. The other ones had all been based on the concept of simply storing energy inside a spell matrix to allow for overcharging the spell with a different design that could make it much stronger than the usual overcharging. Just imagine a [Light] spell with pockets of Mana ready to be triggered.

What if I approach this with a baking mindset? Would that make it easier to get a [Baker] class?

Baking requires exact measurements and timing, while circuits depend on exact specifications and designs. The capacitor in a circuit is often used to smooth out or filter the electrical energy. For example, in a power supply, capacitors stabilize voltage, ensuring a steady flow of electricity. If I envision the capacitor as an egg, then its role in both a recipe and a circuit becomes clearer.

Just as an egg binds the ingredients together in baking, giving structure and stability, a capacitor in a spell matrix might stabilize the flow of Mana, ensuring it doesn't spike or drop unpredictably. I pull out a sheet of parchment and begin to sketch. Instead of traditional circuit symbols, I jot down the squiggly design of a spell matrix.

The Mana flow lines represent the wires or conductors, ensuring the flow of magical energy. The capacitors become intricate symbols designed to hold and release Mana… similarly to their electrical counterparts that store and discharge electrical energy. And the magical nodes, the points of connection and distribution, resemble junctions in a circuit.

I need an insulating layer, I tell myself, looking at the sketch. Then, sharp pain surges through my head.

"Fuck," I swear, feeling [Threading Mind] starting to wane and my body starting to shake. "Yo, old man, I'm close! Keep it going!"

I cough violently, but Magister Mulligan, who just shakes his head, doubles down on [Threading Mind] and whatever healing spell he's using. Now, I can easily see all the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

This can be replicated endlessly; I smile to myself. This is like when I solved the [Light] manipulation problem. This set is basically done.

The different sets would just be harder variations of a base concept. And looking at my sketches on the table, I know that I've finally got it.

With the insights still fresh in my mind, I channel my Mana into a matrix. The sensation is unique – it's as if I'm feeling the Mana being buffered, stored, and then released in a smooth flow, reminiscent of a circuit powering up.

The spell matrix is soon completed without fault, but no [Light] appears.

Let's see, I send a spark of Mana through it, and, out of nowhere, the [Light] spell materializes in front of me.

…

Inspired by the idea of storage and the capacity to hold charges, I'm pondering a practical application as I quickly run through the rest of the Cantrips in this set.

Wait. Can I store a [Lightbolt] instead of a simple [Light]?

The insight comes like a bolt out of the blue.

I immediately switch my focus away from the Cantrip to my [Lightbolt] spell. Stretching the mind buff to its limit, I start envisioning the same technique I used in the past to trigger spell matrixes.

But there's too much power to store… What if I just store the excess Mana in orbiting [Lights]?

Smiling with each successive spell, I incorporate the matrix I've sketched out, allowing each [Light] to act as a miniature capacitor. Once filled, the orbs float around me, glowing softly, waiting for a trigger to release their contained spells.

As I admire the orbs, another epiphany strikes me. Storing a ready-to-cast spell is useful, but what if I could store the spell matrix itself within these orbs? Instead of being single-use, each orb could act as a continuous fire mechanism, recharging and casting the spell as long as there's Mana to fuel it. This would give me a barrage of [Lightbolts] at my disposal.

I modify one of the orbs, embedding not just the spell but the entire matrix structure inside. It shimmers differently, pulsating with a continuous glow, in stark contrast to the steady light of the other orbs.

Testing my theory, I trigger the modified orb, and it releases a [Lightbolt] against a part of the distant colonnade.

I wonder if one of the next sets will allow me to have my orbs absorb ambient Mana…

I take a deep breath, looking at the book again.

This… this is great. I'm confident I can run through the entire book in less than a week like this.

"Are you holding out ok, old man? Is this taking too much of your Mana?" I ask Magister Mulligan from the side.

The [Archmage] simply shakes his head, frowning, "Joey Luciani, I'm not all—well, I can't sustain the healing spells forever, especially if you were to trigger something that’s supposed to kill you."

"It's going to be okay. I'll be as fast as I can. I promise."

But as I go back to the Omnium Compendium, I catch a very worried expression on the old man's face.

…

Six days later

I wake up with a start and a splitting headache.

Fuck… Jesus… where am I?

I look around, finding myself in my room.

What time…

"Old man, what happened?" I groan, feeling my head exploding. "Christ, I don't remember anything after the [Lightbolt] thing. It feels like the worst hangover in the universe."

I wait for an answer as I cradle my head.

"Old man? Are you there?"

No answer.