I wonder whether, at the very least, [Mages] get laid more than other classes. You know how some Asian chicks are super into doctors? I mean, in general, doctors are always a good date, right? Or at least they sound good on paper.

‘I’m a doctor,’ right? Sounds perfect. Who’s better than someone who could save your life, huh? Isn’t there some evolutionary instinct that pushes girls into your arms because of it? Money, status, and crazy utility in a party of five. I mean, what else do you need?

Now, does this apply to greasy, ever-eating, stinky-leather-wearing [Mages]?

Well, if I get my cape, maybe it will work.

But alas, back to practice.

Whatever magic is, I’m a sucker for it.

There’s no denying it.

There’s no Lucinda, no baking, and nothing else in the world while I look at this problem. It’s like everything else ceased to exist the moment I started practicing. It’s one of those jigsaws that just keeps every rational part of your mind busy while the irrational parts push from behind to find a way to finish it for your own satisfaction and ego.

As I was saying before, birds and cars make for an interesting analogy, but I have to figure out how polarity works. The fact that vectors can go off at different times already solved the problem of spinning in a circle, maybe, but I still don’t understand how the movement is generated.

I’m thinking of electromagnetic fields and such, but something tells me the answer lies elsewhere.

At first, I expected the [Light] to move in the opposite direction it had actually moved. I imagined it would have gone where fewer starting points had been generated. Why? Sort of like an osmosis process, moving to fill in the energy void. Instead, it went in the direction I had started tracing from.

Was the first Mana I had laid down doing something while I traced the rest? Did it generate some sort of a pull that attracted the rest?

Was that it?

Think, Joey, think.

I reactivate [Deep Focus].

Space, time, Mana, points.

What else is there?

How thick or thin do I paint those ethereal lines?

No, that’s just following the matrix. Maybe a more experienced [Mage] can touch up the thickness to harness different effects, but it’s not something I’m concerned with now. It’s just a byproduct of a Mana bleed or something, not an intrinsic property.

You can go faster or slower; you can—

Synchronize them?

It’s still about time, but I realize I’ve been tracing the matrix at different speeds while not maintaining a constant acceleration for the individual paths. It’s good if it’s not moving because you still end up with a spell, but otherwise, it becomes a problem!

But this means that I have to look at an ‘endpoint,’ where every single line converges, and I cannot make adjustments on the go. Well, that sounds like a massive pain since the matrixes are a bit different—

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Are they actually different?

I mean, they obviously are. But it’s like dealing with minute differences that can probably be homologated into a single fixed matrix if I don’t care about 100% efficiency.

“Book,” I say, feeling like ripping apart the little condescending bundle of snarky pages, “Do [Mages] craft each matrix differently every time?”

‘No.’

And that’s that.

It makes much more sense, doesn’t it?

You wouldn’t expect someone to cast the best version of a stupid spell like [Light] every single time, right?

I quit [Deep Focus] because I can feel that my mind is getting taxed. Also because I was suddenly taken with wondering how many matches it would take to burn the little—ZAP!

This time, I fall to the ground, spasming.

Ok. Ok.

Lesson learned.

Anyway, I don’t need [Deep Focus] for the next few steps. I prefer letting my mind wander a bit to get the best of me.

I keep [Advanced Mana Sense] on, though, and I look at a matrix that I put a few meters from me. I can still see it clearly, thanks to the shenanigans of my skill; distance doesn’t seem to affect me when working with the spell.

I look at all the squiggly, moving lines and start picking out starting points. I don’t bother with any difficult movements right now; I just want the [Light] to go in a straight line.

And by the way, a side note. The Mulligan fellow, who invented this book, is a madman. Or was a madman. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. But the problem I’m solving is something insane. There’s no way anyone can do all 529 cantrips in 333 days. It’s plain impossible! Just making a [Light] go in a straight line is a goddamn Herculean Labor.

This is hard work.

I don’t like it.

But, oh, boy, am I curious to know what’ll happen.

As soon as I’m done picking out the starting points, I observe the lines closely.

It’s time to experiment.

Even though the lines are slightly different every time, the time it takes for them to get from the starting point to the end seems to stay almost the same. A realization suddenly hits me.

I can probably pre-track the lines in my mind and then try to re-trace them in the matrix itself...

Also, since I started doing magic, I’ve had a distinct impression that my thinking abilities have been somewhat enhanced. Before, it would have been hard to figure out this 3D puzzle.

I need to start on one side and create the sort of polarity that will drag the [Light] from the inside of the spell matrix. Figuring out the exact distance at which every tracing point starts is hard, but if I don’t do that, the resulting accelerating force will get messed up again. I need a smooth-sailing [Light] to start with—from there, I’ll have to somehow figure out how to make them circle.

Now, I know I should be careful and not rush into things. But it’s like being a kid with a lot of dry wood and an entire box of matches. Sometimes, we just want to see the world burn.

Therefore, even though I’m aware it’s a terrible idea, I look at the matrix and sketch out the spell in half a second.

I twist the spell matrix so that it is distorted and oblong, moving slowly from one starting point with three different lines and forcing these lines to converge faster and faster until they reach the farthest part of the matrix at the same instant as terminal velocity.

Before I explain what happened right after that, let me remind you that last time, it took me around a minute and a half to cast the spell. So, half a second is… what, something like 150 times faster? Yeah, something like that. And do not forget that the previous spell had actually hit the wall with a soft thud, right? That means the spell has a substance, a manner of physicality.

What would happen if the casting speed and the movement speed were correlated? And what if they were correlated by an exponential relationship? Let’s say there’s a curve that goes ‘VROOOM’ when you get under ten seconds or so – I don’t have the numbers, sadly, so I’m eyeballing here. So, what if having this curve meant that the spell would accelerate at an insane speed? How fast was it before? Let’s say a mile per hour. Maybe less. For the sake of the argument, let’s put it at 0.3 mph.

You multiply that by 150, and you get 45 mph.

I know I didn’t want to do the math, but my brain is refusing to accept what’s just happened. So, please, bear with me.

Fastballs in baseball can reach up to 100 mph. What happens if such a projectile hits you in the face? Well, the bottom line is that it’s not pleasant.

Well, our dear spell has gone off like a very fast ball, and it hit the wooden wall. How fast it was is beyond me. I have no idea for two reasons – first, I was still using my magic skill that distorted the world to see its pure energy. Second, I’m not a huge baseball fan.

What I know is that I just put a hole in a thick, wooden wall.

Another thing I know is that I can already hear someone stomping up to my room.