Chương 8: Principles of Magic

There have always been countless theories regarding the origins of magic. The prevailing belief during my lifetime held that magic had been bestowed upon us by the gods themselves, though their reasons for doing so remained a matter of debate. Some claimed it was a blessing meant to elevate civilization. Others insisted it existed to test our virtue or reward our faith. Personally, I found those explanations painfully optimistic, and to a degree, naive. My own interpretation has always been far more pragmatic.

The gods had granted mortals magic because they found our struggles entertaining. What better spectacle could there be than watching fragile little creatures wage wars with powers they scarcely understood, occasionally stumbling upon feats that almost resembled the miracles of their creators? If I had possessed the perspective of an immortal deity, I suspected I would have found the performance rather amusing myself.

Regardless of the gods' intentions, I had finally acquired the prerequisite for embarking upon my own journey through the arcane arts. A Lesser Mana Core was, admittedly, a humble beginning, but a core was a core. Countless creatures lived and died without ever awakening one, and even among mortals, only a fortunate minority ever developed the ability to wield magic. Monsters fared little better, as most are unable to use magic.

The fact that I had managed to awaken a mana core at all was therefore no trivial accomplishment. That realization did, however, leave me with an intriguing question. Why were there so few magical beasts inhabiting this forest? The blue grass carried traces of mana, while the golden herbs were filled with the stuff. Surely I could not have been the first creature to gorge myself upon them. Grazing animals must have wandered through this clearing countless times over the years, nibbling on these magic plants.

If consuming magical vegetation alone were enough to awaken a mana core, then this forest might be home to at least one or more magical beasts. Evidently, there was probably another requirement that I had unknowingly fulfilled. Perhaps my unusual biology, my memories from a previous life, or one of my existing Traits had allowed my body to process the accumulated mana in ways ordinary creatures simply could not. But any questions could wait for another day.

If I intended to experiment with my newfound mana core, I would require somewhere considerably safer and far less exposed. With that in mind, I departed the clearing and crawled through the grass until I located a suitably large tree. I climbed until I reached one of its higher branches, where dense foliage concealed me from prying eyes. Here, I intended to train another essential skill for the use of magic: Mana Circulation.

Possessing a mana core alone accomplished remarkably little if one lacked the ability to actually move the mana it contained. The core itself merely served as a reservoir and a pump. The true objective was to guide that mana through every pathway of the body, allowing it to invigorate the body and mind. The enhancement was modest at the lower levels, admittedly, but it was still important.

I focused upon my newly formed mana core, searching for the current of magical energy within, yet it stubbornly refused to do anything. At first, the mana merely drifted aimlessly inside the core, as though unaware that I was attempting to command it. Whenever I thought I had succeeded in nudging it outward, the current dispersed moments later before reaching anywhere. Several attempts ended with nothing more than an unpleasant tingling sensation. Mana behaved much like water in certain respects.

Simply forcing it forward accomplished very little if the path itself was unsuited to the flow. The issue, I eventually realized, was that I had been approaching Mana Circulation as though I still possessed a humanoid body. My current caterpillar body was not one composed of broad limbs and a single continuous frame, but of numerous segmented sections linked together. Expecting mana to effortlessly surge from one end to the other had been a silly assumption on my part.

With that revelation in mind, I abandoned my previous approach. Rather than urging the mana toward my entire body, I focused on the segment nearest to my mana core. The current resisted at first, swirling aimlessly before dispersing, but after several careful adjustments I succeeded in circulating the mana completely throughout that single section. Once the flow stabilized there, guiding it into the adjoining segment proved noticeably easier. Then came the next, and the next after that.

Section by section, I gradually extended the circulation further through my elongated body. Each newly completed segment reinforced the momentum of the last until the mana no longer faltered between them, instead flowing naturally from one section into another like water flowing through a series of connected channels. The transformation was noticeable once I circulated mana to the final section of my body.

A pleasant warmth spread from my mana core all the way to the tip of my tail, strengthening my body while leaving my movements feeling more responsive than before. Even my senses seemed subtly heightened. [Trait Acquired: Basic Mana Circulation] [Strength +1, Agility +1, Vitality +1] [1 Trait Point Awarded] A satisfied smile would undoubtedly have spread across my face had caterpillars been blessed with the necessary facial muscles for such an expression.

Alas, the limitations of my current anatomy denied me that luxury. Even so, establishing basic mana circulation was an encouraging start. I would need to acquire additional mana-related skills before I could progress beyond a basic level, but this was a good start. As gratifying as it was to admire my success, however, there remained little point in lingering upon it. The System had awarded me yet another Trait Point, and I was eager to spend it. [Displaying Available Traits] This text was taken from Royal Road.

Help the author by reading the original version there. 1. Latent Psionics 2. Regeneration 3. Chameleonic Carapace One detail immediately caught my attention. During my previous evolution, the System had presented only two possible Traits from which to choose. This time, however, there were three. The most likely explanation was that my recent evolution had broadened the pool of available Traits, granting me greater flexibility as my species continued to develop.

If my guess proved correct, future evolutions might present even larger selections, allowing increasingly specialized paths of progression. An intriguing prospect, to say the least. Fortunately, idle speculation could wait until later. At present, I had three options before me, and each deserved consideration. [Latent Psionics] A prerequisite Trait that lays the foundation for awakening psionic abilities in the future. [Regeneration] Your body can regenerate from even significant injuries.

Sections of your body that have been severed or destroyed may be restored, provided no more than half of your body has been lost and your head remains intact. [Chameleonic Carapace] Your carapace can alter both its color and surface texture, allowing it to blend seamlessly into its surrounding environment. Regeneration looked like quite the extraordinary trait. The ability to recover from catastrophic injuries would grant me a margin for error that few creatures could ever hope to possess.

Considering my current position near the bottom of the food chain, surviving an encounter I had no business surviving was an attractive prospect. Chameleonic Carapace, meanwhile, was also useful. Disappearing into my surroundings would make me remarkably difficult to detect, whether I wished to evade predators or patiently stalk unsuspecting prey. Combined with my venom and silk, it would elevate me into a remarkably effective ambush predator. But Latent Psionics... that was an entirely different matter.

I considered myself absurdly fortunate that such a Trait had even appeared among my options. True, it offered no immediate increase to my strength, survivability, or combat prowess. If judged solely by what it provided today, it was objectively the weakest choice before me, but evaluating it in such a shallow manner would have been laughably shortsighted. Because this Trait promised access to one of the most elusive and terrifying disciplines of magic ever conceived.

Magic itself was divided into many different schools, each specializing in a different aspect of the arcane. There were elemental mages who controlled fire, water, wind, earth, and other natural elements. Then there were illusionists who focused on deceiving the senses. Diviners could see the truth behind lies and sometimes even see the future, while abjurers excelled at creating magical defenses capable of withstanding overwhelming force.

There were numerous other branches of magic besides those, many of which escaped my memory at the moment. Even so, despite their diversity, one discipline of magic had always occupied a class of its own. Unlike conventional magic, psionics did not require any physical materials, elaborate spell formulas, or even any kind of magical circles. It was the direct manifestation of thought itself, an invisible force imposed upon reality through nothing more than mental power.

A true master could shatter dozens of skulls with a passing thought, hurl buildings from their foundations as though they were children's toys, or soar effortlessly through the sky by manipulating invisible telekinetic force. It was a school of magic feared even by accomplished archmages, for one could scarcely defend against an attack they could neither see nor comprehend. Regrettably, it was also the one discipline I had never been able to study during my previous life.

Psionic talent was not something one acquired through diligent study or relentless practice. One either possessed the innate affinity for it, or one did not. Those unfortunate enough to be born without that gift could devote a thousand years to research and still fail to produce so much as a single telekinetic spark. And yet, impossibly, the System now presented me with the key. A prerequisite Trait capable of granting me access to an entire branch of magic that had once been forever beyond my reach.

Needless to say, I found that prospect extraordinarily difficult to ignore. [1 Trait Point Spent] [Trait Acquired: Latent Psionics] [Remaining Trait Points: 0] Having successfully acquired basic Mana Circulation and secured another Trait, there was little reason to remain perched upon my branch. It was time to return to my original objective: hunting.

My venom had already proven itself capable of bringing down prey many times my own size, and with Mana Circulation reinforcing my body, I possessed every intention of pushing my newfound strength to its limits. If magical plants could grow in this forest, then surely at least some magical beasts must have arisen somewhere nearby as well. Perhaps they occupied territories deeper within the forest, or perhaps they were simply elusive enough to have escaped my notice thus far.

If I were fortunate enough to encounter one, I imagined the rewards would be substantially greater than those gained from hunting ordinary wildlife. With my destination decided, I moved to anchor a strand of silk to an overhanging branch so that I could resume swinging. Before I could fire, however, a sudden movement overhead caught my attention. A vast silhouette drifted silently above the treetops, its immense form momentarily eclipsing the sunlight as it glided across the sky.

My gaze followed it upward, and an unwelcome sense of dread settled over me. It was, technically speaking, a bird, though such a mundane description scarcely did the magnificent creature justice. Even from my position far beneath the forest canopy, its enormous wingspan was impossible to ignore. Arcs of mana danced along the edges of its feathers, crackling like lightning before dissolving into the wind. There was no mistaking it, this was a Tempest Hawk.

Under different circumstances, I might even have admired the beast. It was an exceptionally dangerous magical predator in its own right, one that few creatures would willingly challenge. Yet it was not the hawk itself that caused a cold knot to tighten within my thoughts. No, my concern lay with what its presence almost certainly signified. Tempest Hawks were not only highly intelligent, but they were also prized by elves as scouts and messengers.

Seeing one flying over this forest meant that there was likely an elf somewhere within or around the forest. The elves had always been the smallest of the great mortal races in terms of population. They guarded their forests with almost obsessive devotion, shunning outsiders while rarely venturing beyond the borders of their sacred groves themselves. During my lifetime, encountering an elf outside elven territory had been noteworthy enough to warrant investigation.

So, the sight of a Tempest Hawk naturally made me question what an elf would be doing in this forest. This place seemed ordinary from everything I had seen, hardly the kind of enchanted grove one would associate with elves.