The next day, in the study.
Damian sat at his desk, preparing to use the Blue Water Flowers he had collected yesterday to aid his practice of Aemon's Basic Meditation Method.
He pulled several flowers from the water basin on the table and tore the petals apart. A pale blue juice immediately oozed from the broken edges.
The Blue Water Flower had a remarkably high water content; he could squeeze quite a bit of liquid from a single petal. After repeating the process a few times, the glass beaker on his desk was filled with the glowing blue sap.
Damian poured the juice into his hands and smeared it directly onto his forehead.
He closed his eyes, calmed his mind, and began circulating the meditation technique.
A few breaths later, the flower juice permeated his skin. An intense, icy coolness sank into his brain, instantly refreshing his spirit.
Damian felt as if he were standing on a stormy beach, constantly being battered by heavy waves. But with every wave that struck him, his sea of spirit became wider and more solid.
An hour later, the juice in the beaker was completely used up, and Damian's sea of spirit had stabilized considerably.
He carefully sensed the internal changes and discovered that his total volume of magic power had actually increased slightly!
Long-term use of the Dark Arts places an enormous burden on a wizard's spirit. This is precisely why Dark Wizards who frequently cast unforgivable curses slowly become paranoid, twisted, and insane.
Before practicing this meditation method, Damian would feel completely mentally exhausted if he cast the Killing Curse just twice in a row. Now, after training his spirit, the burden of casting Avada Kedavra felt noticeably lighter.
At this current rate of growth, Damian estimated that once he advanced to a Second-Level Wizard Apprentice, he would be able to cast the Killing Curse three times in a row without suffering any mental backlash.
Opening his eyes, he quickly downed five vials of Invigoration Draught and returned to constructing Runic Script models in his mind.
After yesterday's tests, he had determined that the effects of five stacked Invigoration Draughts lasted for exactly eight hours.
This meant that to maintain double the recovery speed of his sea of spirit around the clock, he would need to consume fifteen Invigoration Draughts every single day!
It was a staggering expense. The cost of one high-grade Invigoration Draught was close to two Galleons, bringing his daily potion budget to thirty Galleons.
Fortunately, Damian had frequently sold his own masterful brews under the pseudonym 'Gelman' over the past two years, saving up quite a fortune. Combined with the massive estate he had inherited from his late grandfather, he could easily maintain this burn rate for the short term.
Moreover, practicing the meditation method didn't always require consuming spiritual power to build runic models.
According to the scroll, once he advanced to a Third-Level Wizard Apprentice, his training would shift away from rapid construction and focus more on the slow, natural accumulation of the sea of spirit. At that point, chugging Invigoration Draughts would no longer be necessary.
An hour later, Damian drank a Mandrake Restorative Draught, instantly restoring fifty percent of his depleted spiritual power.
He had only been practicing the meditation method for two days, but with the combined brute force of the Invigoration and Mandrake potions, he had already successfully constructed twenty Runic Script models in his mind.
He was prioritizing the specific runes required for the Lightning Bolt spell.
Casting Lightning Bolt required a sequence of 32 runic scripts, but many of the symbols repeated within the spell matrix. In reality, he only needed to memorize and construct 18 unique scripts.
Wanting to test if the spell was finally viable for actual combat, Damian decided to take a break.
He cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself, turning completely invisible, and slipped out of White Stone Town, heading toward the quiet woods bordering the settlement.
After walking for a while, he found a suitable target: a massive, ancient tree with a trunk so thick it would take three grown men to encircle it.
Tapping into the pre-built models in his sea of spirit, Damian instantly "condensed" the required 32 runic scripts into his palm. He immediately began "guiding" them into the structural framework of the Lightning Bolt spell.
Zzzzz! Blinding white light erupted from Damian's hand. The runic scripts rapidly fused together, transforming into a violent bolt of jagged lightning that shot toward the massive tree.
The instant the lightning struck the trunk, the point of impact generated immense heat, instantly vaporizing the moisture inside the wood.
When the blinding flash faded, a perfectly circular, charred hole had been blown clean through the center of the massive trunk.
The raw power was staggering—even stronger than his Blasting Curse or Severing Charm.
Damian also realized that Aemon's Basic Meditation Method didn't just speed up casting; it amplified the output. Thanks to his expanded sea of spirit, the destructive power of the Lightning Bolt had increased by twenty percent.
The time it took to "guide" the runic scripts into the spell model was exactly eight seconds. It was slow, but officially usable in actual combat.
Satisfied with the test, Damian recast his Disillusionment Charm and headed back to White Stone Town.
As he passed through the gates, he noticed that the Night Watchman in the tower was an unfamiliar face, and the local militia had stationed two additional armed guards at the entrance.
Upon returning to Chris's residence, Damian brushed the snow off his cloak and prepared to head upstairs.
"Lord Damian!" Chris called out from the kitchen. "Madam Alsha from White Stone Manor just sent over a dinner invitation for you."
Damian paused on the stairs, confused. "Madam Alsha?"
"She arrived from the Royal Capital about six months ago," Chris explained, wiping his hands on an apron. "She is the administrative officer for the Court Wizards in this region."
Chris lowered his voice slightly. "It is said she is incomparably beautiful. Her looks have driven countless men to obsession. She is the constant topic of conversation here in White Stone Town. If you go to the tavern on East Street, her beauty is all anyone talks about."
Chris pointed toward the window. "White Stone Manor was originally the estate of the former Town Mayor. The rumors say he was so deeply infatuated with Madam Alsha that he gifted the entire manor to her shortly after she arrived."
Damian took the invitation from Chris. It was exquisitely crafted from heavy parchment, the edges embroidered with a delicate flower resembling a bird's tail feather.
Damian recognized it from one of the botany books he had duplicated in the study; it was a Red Iris.
In this world, the Red Iris symbolized fleeting love. Its blooming period was incredibly short—it generally opened in the evening and completely withered away by the very next morning.
Damian opened the letter.
Lord Damian:
I will be hosting a dinner banquet at White Stone Manor on Friday evening, inviting the young talents of White Stone Town. > I hope you can grace us with your presence at this grand gathering.
...I look forward to spending a wonderful time with you on this charming night.
Alsha
Damian's brow furrowed in bewilderment. He didn't know this Madam Alsha at all, yet he had received a highly personalized dinner invitation.
A sharp, calculating glint flashed deep in his eyes. He had only been in White Stone Town for a few days. He wasn't very familiar with Link and Anna yet, so it was highly unlikely the two Court Wizards had recommended him to their superior so quickly.
Perhaps his brief skirmish by the frozen river yesterday had attracted the attention of someone observant.
Regardless, he decided to accept the invitation.
If it was a trap set by an enemy, ignoring the invitation wouldn't make the threat go away. But if it wasn't an enemy, he could use Madam Alsha's banquet to integrate himself into White Stone Town's local circle of wizards.
His primary goal in this dimension was to connect with native spellcasters. He needed more Runic Magic, more meditation methods, and a deeper understanding of this world's lore.
Friday Evening. White Stone Manor.
The manor was situated in the affluent suburbs northwest of White Stone Town. It was surrounded by a lush, sprawling garden where hundreds of blooming Red Iris flowers looked like a beautiful, vibrant painting brought to life by the fading rays of the setting sun.
The edge of the garden bordered a wide river that connected directly to the waterway running through White Stone Town. Unlike the town, however, the water here wasn't frozen; the rushing current added a touch of lively vitality to the serene estate.
Inside the manor, an impeccably dressed butler stopped outside a set of heavy oak doors and knocked twice.
"Come in," a voice answered. It was soft and melodious, like heavenly music.
The butler opened the door and stepped into a lavish dressing room. A woman with long, cascading chestnut hair sat perfectly upright before an ornate vanity mirror.
Two busy maids stood behind her, carefully adjusting her jewelry and applying the final touches to her makeup.
The butler stood behind her with his head respectfully bowed, though his peripheral vision caught half of her face reflected in the polished glass.
In the mirror, her crimson lips were slightly parted, revealing a hint of seductive, dangerous charm. The line of her jaw was elegantly smooth, like a masterfully carved work of art.
"Madam," the butler said softly. "The banquet is ready."
She didn't turn around. "Is anyone absent?" she asked, her voice light.
"Everyone has arrived."
She nodded slowly. In the mirror, the slight, sharp curve of her lips outlined her sensuality—and her deadly anticipation.
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