"Gnome Magic? Vincent cocked his head and thought. 'Can you show me what your magic

looks like?'

"I can't, but my uncle Charlotte is a good spellcaster." Mark said proudly, pointing to his uncle.

"I'm not really a spellcaster, and I can't be sure when magic works and when it doesn't. And

my magic can only be used to create relatively simple gadgets, like a piece of wood or a few

nails. But I can't make anything big or complicated. I can't make anything the size of a table,

for example. I'll try it today, and I should be able to use the spell once more."

Charlotte simply put the plates on the table to one side so that there was not much room for

them. Then she hung her right hand over the table, her fingers hanging naturally, and with

her other hand she took a little gold powder from her trouser pocket, and as she rubbed the

dust on the table she murmured with her eyes closed.

Vincent listened carefully to Charlotte's voice, which was neither the dragon language of

wizards, nor the high Elven language of elven magic, nor even the gnome language or the

ancient gnome language. It was an unknown language with a great deal of rhotic and

quivering accents.

It was nearly a minute before the "spell" was released. During this time, the golden dust that

had been scattered on the table formed a little tetrahedron.

Charlotte suddenly pressed her right hand down, and Vincent reflexively covered his eyes as

the cloud of golden dust glowed bright white. His human vision was completely blind under

the circumstances, but his perceptive eye power worked perfectly. Even with his eyes closed,

he could see the changes on the table through his eyelids and hands, and the bright light on

the table did nothing to damage his special vision.

The dust began to gather on its own, wriggling and changing its shape, like an amoeba

experimenting with its powers of change. Its color slowly fades from golden to white; And its

physical form becomes more and more stable. At last the light faded and a silver spoon lay

still on the table.

Vincent picked up the spoon and looked at it over and over again. He could not find any

difference between it and the real one. Although the magic was applied for a longer period

of time, the effect of the produced items was really good, absolutely genuine.

"How long will this spoon last?" Vincent asked Charlotte, "Hours or days?"

"Maintenance time?" "Asked Charlotte, puzzled. "Oh, you mean how long will this spoon last?

Forever. This spoon is going to look like this forever."

"No more disappearing? That's pretty impressive. But can I see the dust you use?"

'Of course'

Vincent sits down at the table, examining the spoon and the golden casting materials carefully.

The spoon is so perfect that it will not disappear when the spell has expired. It's fair to say

that gnomes actually create an item instead of using magic energy to temporarily construct

an item or directly summon an identical item, as human mages do. Such spells, if not seen

with one's own eyes, would definitely be considered smokescreen; How could human and

elvish scholars, who had always been so arrogant, believe that little gnomes could do better

spells than they could? Besides, the light from the golden dust would have made all those

present dizzy, and Vincent would not have been able to see the whole process of the magic

without the power of his penetrating eye. No wonder the records of dwarf magic often

assume that they used smoke and mirrors. And the dust, it seems, is just plain copper powder.

But this spoon, it's 100% iron.

"It's a nice magic spell that can completely transform the properties of objects." Vincent puts

the spoon back on the table. "Comparatively speaking, the series creating spells I have learned

are not as good as yours."

"In fact, Uncle Charlotte is one of the best in our community in the use of magic. It's just that

she was more interested in inventing machines than in studying magic."

"Well, everyone has his own dream to pursue, and magic is not the only goal. Charlotte, let

me ask you something." Vincent thought for a moment and then said, "What language is your

magic in? I have never heard it before. Are there any books I can look at?"

"In fact, our magic is understood by each person, and one day, someone may suddenly

understand and use their first magic. It's like having a magic spell in your head, so we don't

really know what the language is. As for the data, "Charlotte thought, touching her chin." Well,

wait a minute. I'll get it for you. It just so happens that I have it here." The dwarf got up and

began to rummage through the piles of debris under his working bench. After a while, he

pulled out a one-foot square SLATE and handed it to Vincent. "Well, this is it. This is a very

long time ago, it is said that the dwarf Great Arcane once left it. It had been in the museum

warehouse for many years, and when I was a boy I used to play hide-and-seek there, and I

had seen it. Now the council asked me to try and translate it and it has been here ever since."

'A translation? Vincent took the thing. It was just a piece carved out of ordinary hard stone

with dense characters written in dragon language. Vincent had a rough look at it. Even though

he knew the Dragon language well, he couldn't make out what it meant: it was not so much

a meaningful article as a jumbled stack of dragon characters. The mage quickly read from

beginning to end, and found on the SLATE many ancient letters that are no longer in use, and

the worn condition of the SLATE itself, which is at least a hundred years old.

"The stone was originally placed not far from the entrance of the museum storehouse, and

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

everyone who visits or plays there can see it. But no one could understand what was written

on it. Three years ago, this thing suddenly glowed in the middle of the night, very brightly

and made a strange singing sound. It was kind of like a mantra, something that the human

sorcerer used to say when I was a kid. Since then, the ability to use magic has generally

improved among us here. I hadn't really been able to use any spells before that. They say I

have the best spells now, so the Council wants me to study this SLATE and see if I can find

out why it shines and sings. If we can understand that nature is the best, we may be able to

improve our magic even further. However, I have always wanted to build an all-creation

machine, and the Council has been reluctant to grant me the funds. I understood that they

were afraid I would be distracted from my research on the slab. But I've been looking at it for

almost two years and I still can't figure out what it says."

"Vincent, maybe the secret to your recovery is up there." "Charlotte said.

Vincent became so interested in the SLATE that he began to read the characters without any

interference from the outside world. Charlotte and Mark quietly walked out of the house.

"Is that all right, Uncle?" As they walked to a quiet corner, Mark asked, "What's so amazing

about that SLATE? It did shine, but it wasn't the secret to restoring magic, and it wasn't in the

warehouse, it was in the cemetery! And the council did not ask you to study the SLATE. It's

not good for him to lie to him like that, is it?"

Charlotte sighed. "I know what you mean, child. But imagine if you could never make anything

again in your life, or rather, if you never had the chance to do what you love the most. Now

all Vincent needed was a reason to cheer up. Besides, there was really nothing wrong with

him studying the SLATE. After all, it did belong to the only archmage we gnomes had a long

time ago. Don't look at me like that. I knew it was about a tombstone, but it was because of

the cemetery that I had to repair that I got the job of repairing a few tombstones. I'll just carve

the exact same one and put it back. The Archmage carved his own gravestone. There must

be some secret in it."

"Uncle, what a man you are..."

Vincent is still staring at the SLATE carefully. He knows all the characters on it. Using the

ancient Dragon language is as easy for him as speaking directly, but these random characters

don't mean anything when they are read. On the other hand, there was no way that an ancient

archarcane object could be such a jumble of nonsense. If Charlotte had said that it might

contain the secret of gnome-magic, then there must be a way to find it.

...

The next day, after a sleepless night, Vincent's eyes were full of blood, and he was dragged

to the door of the museum warehouse by his excited uncle and nephew. There was already a

crowd of dwarves standing around, bustling with people. Hamilton and a few other

Presbyterians smiled at Vincent as he came slowly and unsteadily.

Behind them, all sorts of strange things were piled high, and several dwarfs were helping them

to move them to the museum warehouse. This pair of objects was the result of their metal

arm installation team who had turned the warehouse almost upside down before they found

the gold arm in the farthest corner of the warehouse. Early in the morning, the gnomes' priests,

blacksmiths, craftsmen and a large audience were in place. Now, all the preparations were

complete, except for the main character, the wounded Vincent.

Vincent is pinned down on a chaise longue by four gnomes, and he sees the metal arm for

the first time. A very strong metal model arm lying quietly on the work table, the whole body

shows a dark yellow luster, engraved with red patterns, it looks like the tattoo of this arm,

leaving a lot of spiral winding pattern on the arm. At the shoulders, elbows, wrists and fingers,

there are connections, and they all look like they can be turned.

Before Vincent had another chance to examine the arm in detail, a dwarf in a dark green robe

came up. With a kind smile, he gently laid his hand on Vincent's forehead and said, "Try to

relax. Don't resist this magic. It will only hypnotize you and help you with the pain, so you will

feel better."

Vincent nodded and consciously closed his eyes. Then he fell into a deep sleep.

Hamilton watched Vincent fall asleep and waved as several elders took their arms and set to

work. The dwarfs all held their breath and watched the elders at work in silence. It was a rare

opportunity to learn. The members of the Presbyterian Church were well ahead of the other

dwarfs in some field, and they were always teaching others how to improve their craft, but

joint work like this was rare. All the gnomes wanted to focus all the energy they put into their

breathing on their eyes, so that they could more attentively record the instant movements of

each worker.

The operation took much longer than expected. Hours passed, and the dwarf priest standing

nearby was sweating cold -- his hypnotic spell was gone, but his arms were not fully attached,

and some joints were still unable to move. Vincent's eyelids were beginning to twitch. He was

about to wake up.

The reverend dwarf tugged at Hamilton's coat and told him about the situation. Hamilton

frowned, picked up his pliers, and smashed Vincent over the head. Vincent's eyelids stopped

blinking after the sound of "dang".

"Only knock him unconscious. Come on, everybody, come on, now we are too slow!" Hamilton

wiped the sweat from his head and went back to work.