Creating Magic Spells
Combinations of words…!
Wait, does that mean those cringy, chuunibyou-style chants were actually thought up and put together by someone? I always figured they were just random phrases some show-off guy made up to sound cool, but apparently, there’s a real reason behind them.
“For example, there’s the Fireball incantation:
‘Flame dwell within my hand—become the inferno that burns all and burst forth as a blazing sphere.’”
Within my hand = decides where the spell manifests.
Flame dwell = determines the element.
Burn all = defines the effect.
Sphere = determines the spell’s form.
Burst forth = defines the action of launching it.
Vice-Guildmaster wrote the spell out neatly on the blackboard. So that chant actually had five different stages built into it. The “burn all” part isn’t strictly necessary, but… maybe they added it ‘cause it sounded cool?
Actually, shouldn’t this be what they teach in class?
Dad chuckled. "Heh, this here’s the sorta thing they drill into ya at one o’ them fancy Magic Academies. Adventurers don’t always need all that book-smarts—most just wing it by feel, or stick to the spells they’re naturals at. Your little school’s mighty thorough, but most places, ‘specially them big ones in the capital, just cram in the practical stuff and call it a day. And they don’t even take young’uns ‘til they’re seven or older. This Plessama Frontier Marquisate school? Shoot, it’s downright one-of-a-kind!"
I see. Come to think of it, they did say free schooling was something special to this territory. Thank you, Lord Plessama, for your generosity~!
“Now then, how about the Wind Cutter incantation? Can you tell what each part means?”
Ah, a pop quiz? Let’s see… the chant was:
Gather in my hand, wind—become a fierce, spinning blade that slices all before it.
In my hand = appearance point.
Gather wind = element.
Fierce spinning = effect.
Blade = spell’s form.
Slice all = action.
“Like this?”
Since the blackboard was too high, Dad lifted me up in his arms so I could point while explaining.
“Haha, now ain’t that somethin’ else! Vio, sugar, how’d you like enrollin’ in a proper Magic Academy? That there’s a trick they don’t even start teachin’ till third-year research courses! You caught it after hearin’ it just once and even kept the whole chant in your head. That’s downright amazin’!"
Ugh, that embarrassing, over-the-top chant stuck in my head whether I wanted it to or not. I’d never actually use it though. Still, if that’s what third-years are learning, then I’ve got even less reason to go to a magic school now.
“So that means the healing spell Vice-Guildmaster used on me the other day, the ‘holy power’ part was the element, and the ‘wish for recovery’ was the effect, right? The manifestation point was by my leg where he held his hand, and since healing magic doesn’t really have a visible shape, that part could be skipped. The ‘wish’ itself becomes the action… right?”
Remembering when Vice-Guildmaster healed my sore muscles the other day, I started writing it out on the board. Guildmaster muttered something about “nobody ever uses such a short healing chant,” but I kept going. When I looked back, Vice-Guildmaster was staring at me, looking kind of stunned. Huh? Did I get it wrong?
Guildmaster mumbled, “I can’t make heads or tails o’ this…”
“What’s the right answer, then?” I asked.
Vice-Guildmaster smiled gently. “That day, Vio, you asked me how I thought while casting—what I imagined to make it work, remember? I pictured the wound closing if it was a cut, or the pain fading if it was sore, then spoke the chant with that in mind. So the spell used just the element and the effect. I never imagined someone would catch on to that so quickly.”
Teacher Doua explained that that step—understanding and visualizing properly—is where most people hit a wall.
Well, I guess if you don’t know anything about anatomy, it’d be tough to heal muscles or organs you can’t even see.
“Hey, weren’t we suposed to be coming up with the chant for water generation today?”
At that, Teacher Doua and Vice-Guildmaster both straightened up. “Ah! Right, that’s today’s task!”
So that was the main reason we gathered here, huh? Makes sense. We’d already decided to credit the idea to the Elf teacher, after all.
“That spell has several stages:
First, turning magic power into mist.
Second, catching water vapor in the air with that magic.
Third, gathering and compressing it to create water.
Fourth, removing the magic from the water itself.
At least four steps in total, so we’ll need to plan carefully.”
Huh. When you list it like that, it sounds surprisingly simple.
Then Guildmaster said, “Simple? Ha! Each of those steps takes plenty o’ effort!”
“For the first step, turning mana into mist, you must:
Gather mana at your fingertips,
Release only the mana from your hand,
Transform it into tiny particles, and
Diffuse it into the air.”
… Wait, what? When you spell it out like that, it sounds like a huge pain! Wouldn’t it be easier to just imagine spraying mist straight out of your palm like a fountain?
While I stared wide-eyed at the board, the adults kept tossing around ideas. I guess, back when I first did it, I instinctively imagined the process of moving mana through my body and out, step by step. That must’ve covered all this without me realizing.
But yeah, after the first time, I didn’t need to think about any of that—it just worked smoothly. So maybe that’s why using a spell over and over lowers mana costs, kinda like the everyday magic ones.
“For the second step, catching the water vapor, you would:
Blend the diffused mana with the surrounding air, and
Solidify only the components that form water.
That could even overlap with the third step—compression.
Gather the solidified components like fabric, and
Squeeze out the water.”
“Then maybe we can merge those middle steps? Shorter’s better, right?”
Step after step went up on the board:
Gather mana at fingertips.
Release only mana from hand.
Transform into tiny particles.
Diffuse into air.
Blend with surrounding air.
Solidify water-making components.
Gather those like fabric.
Squeeze out water.
Remove magic from the created water.
Nine steps total. After some discussion, they condensed them further:
Gather mana in palm and form small particles.
Diffuse mana into the air.
Draw water from air infused with your mana.
Squeeze the gathered moisture.
Purge magic from the water.
The last two steps, I already did consciously. It looked much cleaner this way.
Once the process was set, they started working on the chant. Since it was a brand-new spell, they said the chant should use clear, descriptive words, which meant it’d probably end up long again. Apparently even the current “chuunibyou” chants are way shorter than they used to be.
“For the first step, ‘Gather mana in palm and form small particles,’ how about—‘O power gathered in my hand, become mist’?”
“Sounds clear enough.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
… Wait, that’s all it takes to decide?
According to Teacher Doua, at the Magic Academy there’s even a lab where they study old legends and half-forgotten spells, trying to recreate ancient magic from scraps of record and description. They said the Hero’s spells in particular were legendary, though reproducing them would take more mana than anyone’s got. The everyday attack spells we use now are basically simplified, mana-saving versions.
It was all fascinating at first, but as they went deeper into discussion, voices overlapping and no decision in sight, the warmth of Dad’s lap and the soft murmur of conversation became too cozy to resist. Before I knew it, I’d drifted right off to sleep.
What do you think about this chapter?
