Lance stared at every stroke the old wizard made.
To his surprise, even though his eyes were fixed on the writing across the beast hide, he could not actually make out what Amman was drawing.
Spell runes really aren't easy to memorize.
Lance widened his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, but no matter what he did, all he could perceive was the rune's general outline.
The old wizard wrote very slowly.
For Amman, drawing a rune like this was already second nature. The only reason he slowed himself down so much was to give Lance one final chance.
Lance watched with complete concentration.
A dull ache began to form inside his head.
Still nothing.
Only the outline.
Cold sweat appeared on his forehead.
'My situation is already much better than the former owner's.'
From the memories Lance had inherited, the previous Lance had watched Amman write this same rune more than a dozen times over the past six months. Yet he had never even been able to perceive its outline. To him, the beast hide had looked like nothing more than a chaotic blur.
Lance could at least see the rune's shape.
That meant his mental power was substantially stronger than the former owner's.
According to Amman's teachings, anyone who could perceive even the rough outline of a spell rune on the first viewing had already met the minimum mental-power requirement to become a wizard.
Even such a person would normally need to watch the rune being written at least three times before seeing it clearly enough to memorize it.
Lance had only one chance.
His breathing became faster.
His eyes began to sting, and tears poured out from the strain. He wiped them away while refusing to let his attention leave the rune.
Three minutes later, Amman stopped writing.
He covered the beast hide and said flatly, "That's enough."
Lance understood.
This was the last favor his teacher intended to grant him.
Wizards disliked being disturbed. In context, Amman's words were nearly the same as an order to leave.
Suppressing the pain in his head, Lance bowed respectfully to Amman and turned toward the elevator.
It was noon when he left Moonlight Tower.
"Young Master Lance, you're out."
Poirot came forward as Lance emerged between the two clay guardians.
Lance's entire body was trembling, and his lips had turned dark purple.
His eyes were bloodshot.
At the same time, Fox's voice sounded in his mind.
[Warning. Warning. Your brain is attempting to bear an abnormal energy load beyond its current capacity.]
[Stop this action immediately. Continuing may cause irreversible damage.]
Lance grunted.
A mouthful of blood spilled from his lips, and his knees gave way beneath him.
Poirot caught him before he could collapse completely.
"Young Master Lance! What's wrong?"
It was not Lance's health that truly frightened him.
Poirot was worried about his own position, and possibly his life.
Viscount Lane's fearsome reputation from his younger days was known throughout the Piaoqi Kingdom. If the viscount's useless son died beside the soldier assigned to protect him, the failure would fall squarely on Poirot.
"So it still won't work..."
Lance shook his head and stopped trying to forcibly interpret the rune lodged in his memory.
Trying to decode it directly had exceeded his abilities, and the rune had immediately begun damaging him.
If he could not even interpret it, memorizing it through normal means was out of the question.
And tonight he had promised the viscount that he would write the entire rune from memory.
Under the circumstances, ordinary methods were no longer realistic.
Lance was not some once-in-a-generation magical genius who could master a spell rune in an instant.
"Carry me back to the castle."
There was no politeness in the request. Lance truly no longer had the strength to walk.
Poirot let out a breath of relief.
If Lance could still speak clearly, his condition was probably not immediately fatal.
Without a word, the soldier hoisted Lance onto his back and ran toward the castle.
...
By the time Lance climbed down from Poirot's back, he had recovered from the worst of his condition.
He had simply overdrawn his mental power. Physically, there was nothing seriously wrong with him.
Poirot suggested taking him to a physician, but Lance refused and hurried back to his room.
"Haah..."
He dropped heavily onto the bed.
His stomach was painfully empty, yet he had no appetite at all.
The only thing occupying his mind was that mysterious rune.
'Magic really is the most extraordinary thing in this world.'
The thought filled him with longing.
'Fox, did you finish recording what we saw earlier?'
[Recording complete. All data has been stored. Please assign a name.]
'[Lesser Meditation Rune].'
Excitement stirred in Lance.
'If I call up that data now, can you reproduce the process I saw before?'
[Yes. The reproduction will retain the full effect. However, analysis indicates that the process will place an extreme burden on your brain. In your current mental condition, opening the [Lesser Meditation Rune] data is not recommended.]
Lance thought silently for a while before asking another question.
'I heard that some advanced chips can copy stored information directly into the human brain. Can you do that, Fox?'
[Of course. Fox is a latest-generation super-class master chip.]
The answer came immediately.
[However, the process is irreversible. Once data has been copied into the brain, it cannot be removed.]
[The process will also inflict severe damage on the brain. The damage will not necessarily be permanent, but recovery will require a long period of rest.]
[In addition, a human being can undergo direct neural data copying only once in a lifetime. The human brain is an extremely fragile biological organ, and current science has not completely deciphered its operation.]
[As an auxiliary device for the brain, a master chip is not designed for repeated direct interference with normal brain function.]
'Only once...'
Lance considered the warning.
Then he made his decision.
'Once is enough. If I can get past the obstacle in front of me, I can become a wizard.'
'Lesser Meditation may only be an ordinary meditation method, but advanced meditation methods aren't things you can find whenever you want. Paying this price to memorize and master such a useful spell rune is worth it.'
He lay back on the bed and adjusted himself into a comfortable position.
'I choose to perform a neural data copy. Target data: [Lesser Meditation Rune].'
Fox asked: [Begin the copy now?]
'Of course. Execute immediately.'
Lance had never been the type to hesitate once he had made up his mind.
[Command received. Organizing target data...]
[Data organization complete...]
[Beginning bioelectric anesthesia of selected brain regions...]
Gradually, Lance entered a hazy, half-conscious state.
It felt almost as though he had fallen asleep, yet Fox's voice remained perfectly clear.
[Data copy beginning.]
In the next instant, it felt as though a needle had been driven straight into Lance's skull.
The dull ache already filling his head exploded into agony.
At the same time, a complete and perfectly distinct rune was branded into his memory.
'So this is what the Lesser Meditation rune actually looks like...'
Everything suddenly became clear.
It was as if he had pierced a sheet of clouded paper covering a window and sunlight had burst through from the other side.
Beyond it was an entirely new world.
The world of wizards.
Then came another wave of unbearable pain.
Lance did not even manage to cry out.
He lost consciousness immediately.
...
Night descended, and candles were lit throughout the castle.
In the first-floor dining room, only a handful of people sat at the long table. Five or six servants and maids stood nearby, bringing dish after dish from the kitchen.
Five members of the household were seated for dinner.
Viscount Lane occupied one end of the table, while the others sat along either side according to status.
Besides Lane himself, the four present were his first wife, Viscountess Nancy, and the viscount's three daughters.
His eldest son, Griffin, spent most of the year stationed at Red River Outpost and rarely returned to the castle for meals.
The viscount's second wife had gone back to her own family some time earlier. A wealthy elder had reportedly died, and there was a good chance she would receive a substantial inheritance.
Everyone else who should have been there was present.
Except...
"Where is Lance?"
Viscount Lane's voice broke the quiet around the table.
The servants exchanged uneasy looks and shook their heads.
Ever since Lance had dismissed his previous personal maid, no one had been assigned to serve him directly. None of them knew what had happened.
"My lord, Young Master Lance went to Moonlight Tower this morning. A guard saw him return to the castle around noon."
The answer came from a middle-aged woman with a strong voice.
"Young Master Lance is normally punctual. Something may have delayed him today."
Her name was Xili.
She had worked in the castle for more than ten years and was trusted by both the viscount and the viscountess. Originally a distant relative of Lane's, she now worked in the household and looked after the viscount's children.
The viscount gave a cold snort.
The atmosphere around the table immediately chilled.
Everyone knew he was in a terrible mood.
Just before dinner, Lane had publicly announced that he would give Lance one final opportunity. After the meal, Lance would attempt to write a spell rune, and Wizard Amman would personally judge the result.
Yet dinner had begun, and Lance had not appeared at all.
Viscount Lane was furious.
Another five minutes passed with no sign of him.
Biqi looked openly pleased by the situation, and her mother was little better.
Irene, on the other hand, looked worried.
"Eat," the viscount ordered.
No one dared object.
They began the evening meal.
An hour later, even the final course of desserts had been served.
Lance still had not appeared.
The viscount's face remained expressionless, but the attendant standing behind him had begun to sweat.
He had served Lane for years.
He knew this silence was nothing more than the eerie calm before a storm.
"My lord, Wizard Amman has arrived."
An elderly man dressed as a steward approached the table.
"Bring him in," Lane said.
The steward nodded and turned to leave.
At that moment, a voice rose from the table.
"Father... let me go check on Brother Lance."
Irene bit her lip as she spoke.