Slowe used a magical construct to extend the river directly beneath the Nightmare Duke's castle, connecting it to a large fountain in the castle garden—destroying half the garden in the process.
The ship they were aboard was an ocean liner, temporarily repurposed and entirely unsuited for navigating the canal. Along the way, Slowe had to maintain its stability through magic. While sustaining this complex spell, he also found time to mix medicine for Amora, hold a brief negotiation with the Duke, discuss Amora's name, and, remarkably, carve out a new river.
"Was it five concurrent spells?" Amora asked from her wheelchair as Slowe pushed her through the lower deck of the ship.
"Which five?" Slowe replied, his tone laced with curiosity.
Concurrent magic usage is a critical part of a mage's practical training. Many spells require sustained concentration to remain active, rather than being a single action with a definitive end. Moreover, combat mages do not merely cast their spells in sequence; the interplay, synchronization, and layering of different magics are complex arts that demand exceptional skill.
"Three sustained spells, tactical-grade: communication, navigation, and anti-gravity," Amora cautiously answered. "Then, one propulsion spell and a separate non-sustained anti-gravity spell."
"Sustained" spells require ongoing mental energy to remain active after their initial casting. Amora reasoned that Slowe was likely maintaining a communication spell to receive updates, a navigation spell for steering the ship, and an anti-gravity spell to prevent the ship from running aground in the shallow canal.
For propulsion, whether through steam or another form of energy, Slowe must also be using a spell that required continuous attention, albeit not categorized as sustained. Lastly, the non-sustained anti-gravity spell was used to push Amora's wheelchair.
"Far more than that," Slowe said, shaking his head with a slight smile. "Just for sustained spells, I'm also running anti-communication interception, underwater environment detection, automatic defense, sunlight synthesis, and radiation isolation."
"Your mental capacity is astonishing," Amora remarked, though a growing sense of caution crept into her thoughts.
Every magical spell occupies mental capacity, and most systems are designed to limit this usage to protect the caster's consciousness, rarely exceeding 70% of total capacity. For Slowe to maintain so many spells simultaneously, with each functioning flawlessly, indicated not only his extraordinary mental capacity but also the impressive orchestration capabilities of his magical system.
Amora grew uneasy upon hearing about the "anti-communication interception spell."
As a high-ranking officer, Slowe would naturally safeguard his communications. It wasn't just basic magical encryption—he would add more intricate protective spells to ensure no information leaked. Such protective spells could include self-destruct mechanisms upon decryption or auto-sending preconfigured false messages.
Amora recalled the communication spell she intercepted before boarding the ship, the one where Slowe told the Duke, "I'll be there shortly." At the time, God's Domain had decrypted it effortlessly, and it hadn't felt significant. Now, in hindsight, it unnerved her.
First, it was a communication spell she had never encountered before. Second, Slowe hadn't simplified it, leaving it in an intentionally cryptic and peculiar form.
Summoning the unaltered communication spell from God's Domain, Amora scrutinized its structure while commanding the system to analyze it. Despite God's Domain's formidable computational power, this particular spell offered no immediate insights. Even after several dozen seconds of calculation, she came up empty-handed.
"Don't simplify it," Slowe said suddenly.
Startled, Amora asked, "You knew?"
"Yes," Slowe replied calmly. "I knew someone was trying to crack my communication spell."
Amora quickly pieced things together. "So, that's when I exposed myself?"
It seemed improbable that Slowe had immediately identified her. After all, Menger had neither informed Slowe of her name nor provided details about her appearance. However, Slowe had apparently known of her existence even before she boarded the ship. He had dismissed everyone else and directly acknowledged his role as Menger's "ally."
Amora realized they had indeed crossed paths before—but indirectly. That "encounter" had been through the very communication spell Slowe had crafted and she had decrypted.
"Yes," Slowe admitted frankly. "The phrase, 'All luminous souls are born for you and cannot resist your gaze,' made it quite clear. That's unmistakably the hallmark of God's Domain."
Amora noted Slowe's composed yet penetrating insight. He always seemed to know far more than others expected, yet his demeanor betrayed nothing. This combination of perceptiveness and restraint was both fascinating and intimidating.
Compelled by curiosity, Amora asked, "How did you figure it out?"
"It's a new military-grade spell, developed by the Nightmare Corps research division less than three days ago," Slowe explained as the automated lift reached the lowest level. Instead of heading toward the lab, he paused to elaborate. "The principle is simple, though creating this spell took considerable effort. You compare the original spell to its simplified version, extract the divergent components, and use those differences to construct a new spell."
Amora followed Slowe's instructions, reconstructing the process he described, and discovered something startling: the result was another encrypted magical formula. Once decrypted, the revelation left her in awe: "This is… a communication spell?"
"Yes," Slowe confirmed with a nod. "This spell transmits your entire decryption process back to me."
Amora was amazed. Embedding one magical formula inside another and ensuring both functioned seamlessly required extensive calculation and experimentation. Moreover, any magical system performing automated decryption would first simplify the formula. During this simplification, the hidden communication spell embedded within would be unknowingly triggered.
"What's it called?" Amora asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Light of the Candle," Slowe replied as he pushed her wheelchair toward the lab. He elaborated, "Its light is revealed only as it melts—just like this spell, which activates the moment it is simplified. I might teach you someday. Maybe."
Such an artistic name…
"And how do you counter it?" Amora's curiosity surged. Canceling automated simplification in a magical system could create unnecessary complications, yet failing to do so risked encountering Light of the Candle.
"There's no surefire counter," Slowe explained. "The best approach is to manually analyze the formula yourself. Once Light of the Candleenters the system, sending signals outward is inevitable."
His insight struck Amora like a lightning bolt. The issue wasn't the simplification process; it was allowing the embedded formula to enter the system in the first place.
Light of the Candle was itself a communication spell, capable of embedding within another Light of the Candle. If enough of these were layered—say, around 20,000—the system would be forced to simplify the immense formula. During this simplification, the initiator would already have gathered extensive information about the target system. Moreover, by that point, manually decrypting the layered formula would be impossible for anyone.
In other words, this innovative spell was currently unbeatable.
Amora marveled at the genius of the concept, a testament to why the Nightmare Corps stood as one of the six great magical legions.
"Perhaps it's not entirely unbeatable," Amora suggested, stopping Slowe just as he reached the lab door. "If the added layers make the formula abnormally long and complex, it would be easy to identify it as embedded with Light of the Candle. In such cases, you could connect it to a system that doesn't store critical information and use that to decode it. Or, to be more cunning, you could pre-construct false data and let the spell transmit that back to you."
Transmitting, falsifying, decoding, counter-decrypting, and counter-counter-decrypting—these were timeless themes of espionage.
"Well said," Slowe remarked with a raised eyebrow. "For now, Light of the Candle is unknown to most, so your approach works. But over time, its patterns will become apparent. The research division is already working on compression and disguise methods for the spell. Within a year, it will reach full maturity."
Amora nodded in agreement. Such vulnerabilities were obvious and surely accounted for by the magical corps.
New spells emerged every day, and so did methods to counter them. Since the last magical revolution, the world's magical corps had been engaged in relentless military research. No one could predict how or when this rapid development would stabilize.
Amora couldn't shake the feeling that the pursuit of military magic was nearing excess. Such continuous armament expansion seemed destined to culminate in war.
"Let's go," Slowe said, noticing Amora's contemplative state. He refrained from interrupting her thoughts as they continued toward the lab.
Slowe pushed open the door to the laboratory, revealing Bart, the black horse, and Conner waiting inside.
Bart, who now seemed aware of Conner's true identity, looked visibly uneasy, shifting awkwardly and repeatedly glancing at Conner out of the corner of his eye. Meanwhile, the black horse stood comfortably amid the intricate magical instruments, managing not to disturb anything, displaying an almost comical level of composure.
Amora flashed Bart a reassuring smile before calmly meeting Conner's gaze. Conner, maintaining his usual amiable demeanor, seemed barely able to contain his frustration as he watched Slowe slowly wheel Amora into the room.
"Can we dock now?" Conner demanded, his glare sharp enough to pierce through Slowe.
Adjusting his glasses, Slowe extended his hand toward the lab wall, which promptly opened into a passageway. Without a trace of urgency, he replied, "There's no dock. This is your garden."
Conner, now fully aware that his garden had been destroyed, gritted his teeth. "And?"
Slowe's hand remained raised as the passage stretched forward. Without turning back, he began wheeling Amora into the newly formed corridor. "Follow me. I'll carve an underwater path directly along the castle wall, straight to your bedroom."
Conner was on the verge of exploding. "Slowe Lampes! I swear, tomorrow I'm dragging you to a military tribunal! Unauthorized destruction of noble property and trespassing into a noble's residence!"
"This situation falls under the jurisdiction of the Royal Court, not the military tribunal," Slowe replied coolly. "You'd need evidence of me using prohibited magic that caused casualties to take this to the military tribunal. As it stands, you've merely lost a garden. And to mitigate the mess you've caused, I might have to sacrifice some of my elite forces."
The sound of Conner's footsteps followed them down the corridor, but his tone softened. "Fine. Just make sure you rebuild it. And fill in the tunnel."
Slowe quickened his pace, a subtle magical path forming ahead of them. "I've worked in the security division; I don't need your guidance on this."
"Yes, yes, I know how capable you are!" Conner snapped, exasperation dripping from his voice. "Fine, I'll shut up now!"
"Thank you for your cooperation," Slowe said with a trace of irony. "If only you were this cooperative all the time. The Nightmare Corps cannot always clean up after you."
By the time Slowe reached the end of the passage, he snapped his fingers, causing a seam in the wall ahead to split open and expand into a wide door.
Beyond the door lay a surprisingly modestly decorated bedroom.
The walls, crafted to resemble gray stone, exuded a rough yet natural feel, though they were likely reinforced with magical features or even molten cores. A circular bed that looked luxurious yet practical sat in the center, but next to it stood a hideous floor lamp shaped like a grotesque beast holding a lightbulb in its gaping mouth. Its soft tongue extended to the floor, emitting a faint vapor that appeared to purify the air—a function as effective as it was revolting.
The entire room felt like something out of a mythical beast's lair from three millennia ago.
Amora barely had time to process the eccentric decor before witnessing an even more shocking scene.
As Slowe opened the magical door, a freckled maid standing on the other side collided face-to-face with Amora. Protected by Slowe's magic, Amora remained unharmed, but the maid was flung back several meters.
Dazed and disoriented, the maid struggled to her feet, her gaze locking onto Conner, who had just emerged from the passageway. Conner's usual warm and approachable expression was now tinged with sternness, his slight frown only amplifying the chill in the room. Realizing that the duke, who was supposed to be bedridden, had secretly entered his bedroom from outside, the maid's face paled.
"I…" she stammered, her voice trembling. She hadn't even finished her sentence when Slowe raised his hand.
With an expression as calm as still water, he conjured a thin black thread of magic that shot through the maid's forehead. A split second later, her head exploded like a watermelon, splattering the walls.