Trigger

My mind was as detached as it was focused.

That may have sounded like a contradiction, but with magecraft many things became possible. Mind control was only part of the basics afterall.

I was as calm as my skill in Hypnosis allowed, and my thoughts immediately went to how long I can stall out without running out of prana and if I can subdue Rotunstein(magi really had weird names) without taking considerable damage.

In hindsight, rushing into what was obviously another magus' workshop was akin to signing a death sentence. Preparation was the backbone of every battle between arcane practitioners, with their territory being the base of where that preparation happens.

Essentially, what should've been the time to make tactical decisions was replaced by me hauling my ass and joining Landric in his blitzkrieg.

Words will be exchanged when this was done. Powerful, and possibly physical, words.

"It's actually quite impressive that you would strike so unerringly. I thought you damn Yggdmillennia were just third rate trash; now though, I've come to think you're just third rate spellcasters." He spat the last word.

Against anyone who called themselves a magus, that would've been one of the top 10 things to NOT say right at their faces. It was like spitting on the philosophy that they cherished and to stomp on the conviction they had as ones who walked with death, to sacrifice their time, effort, wealth, and even their descendants' lives to strive for the goal of reaching Akasha.

"Target Set: Maul." I commanded, the rest of the left glove morphing into a chaotic web of silver and speeding towards the magus.

Because, why should I care about some title or goal that I didn't even admire?

I couldn't care less about the Root. True Magic wouldn't serve my plans, and drawing the attention of the numerous god-like entities of this world was bound to end in flames sooner or later.

The man uttered another aria, flamboyant and sugared, with words of praise to some higher force that I shoved from my concentration.

There was still plenty of time - about half a minute at this rate - before my reserves were depleted; this bounded field was rejecting me from filtering its mana, so each second was one step closer to death.

I drew a knife from my pouch - the same one I used to carve the runes on my spear - and instantly Altered some runes on the blade with minimal effort, knowing full well of the explosive result to come.

"Sowilo(ᛊ). Thurisaz(ᚦ)." Sun and flames. Chaos.

My sight, tinted with red as it was, still took stock of the sudden erratic, orange aura crackling within the item.

Jaegar, confident he was just a moment ago, conjured spirit after spirit to defend himself from the onslaught of enchanted threads. The ear he lost was beginning to reform out of the bloody wound, and so was his other arm that was eviscesrated shortly after.

Glowing teal veins of high level Reinforcement glowed from my legs as I ran towards him, Mauling the spirits he sent my way using my other glove.

Knowing how to properly throw a knife wasn't in my list of skills, but frankly, at the smaller distance between us, it didn't matter.

My arm was cocked back as I held the knife by the blade, shining in my peripherals as the brightest warning I could see.

I aimed for the head.

Aimed, I did.

Hit, it did not.

The knife sailed a bit past the left as the magus tried to dodge, and succeeded as it only stabbed right above and dug deep into his elbow. 

His body was littered with wounds and deprived of some bits of flesh that continued to regrow, but at that point…

I pushed my Reinforcement to the limit in the span of milliseconds, my body's painful woes and screams ignored by my hypnotised focus, 

And I hightailed it as fast as I could, having just enough time to grab back my spear while I was at it.

The volatility a rune possessed when it was Altered into an item came from the fact that prana was already flowing through said item. 

Imagine a water hose as the Mystic Code and the water as prana, for a simplification. Altering a physical characteristic was comparable to opening up a section of the hose to add a patch of duct tape or what have you. Doing this while the hose didn't have water flowing in it was fine, but things start to get wet and messy once you try to do this with an open faucet.

Now, compare this to a Traced item: a MAGICAL item that copied a physical existence. Even a few seconds of maintaining its structure botched my concentration somewhat. It is not a water hose; it is water pretending to be solid enough to become the hose.

If I had more practice, if I had more time, I could probably be skilled enough to properly stabilize its form, but that time wasn't now. 

90 units of prana that made up the knife - plus the 10 I added just a second ago - with my Fire affinity and the pair of runes I inscribed; it held the firepower equivalent to a grenade or 2.

"You mangy cur! I'll-"

Cue the ear deafening *boom*, and operation Broken Code: Explosion was a success.

A thing I hadn't considered: magically created explosions were like flashbangs to my sensitive eyesight. And that's when I WASN'T looking at the big boom.

Now was only the time to run, as looking back at an explosion was dumb as hell, and not only for the cool factor. Shrapnel and flying debris was a very real danger to consider, with or without Reinforcement.

When most of my irritated vision was cleared, I finally looked back to see-

"I'll…fucking…KILL YOU!" The words came through gargles and rasps, but still understandable in his state.

-a very persistent man, with practically a third of his torso blown to hell, and a few of his innards poking out.

His left, and only, arm was holding the grimoire of wispy crimson in a vicegrip, teeth gritted and one of his hate filled eyes flooding with red into his sclera. 

Whatever he chanted next was lost to me, only sounding like someone drowning in water mixed with the noises of an angry hippo. However, clear spoken words were not actually required for an aria, only needing the unwavering focus and concentration of the magus' will as they hypnotized themselves to perform thaumaturgy.

My reserves were in the red and standing was becoming a pain, until I felt a snap of recognition flash through my mind.

Several different fields of vision started to overlap with mine, Familiars with eight eyes each staring at a perceived weak link from outside this red cloud of doom.

I sighed to exasperate all of exasperation itself.

"Oh thank god. Ansuz(ᚨ). Hagalaz(ᚺ)." Message. Disruption.

At once, I heard several small explosions go off from the distance with the surveilling perceptions cutting off immediately, and a few seconds later - the draining mist cleared to nothingness.

All the while, I stared at the magus whose face was gradually morphing into one of pure horror.

His torso was mostly healed, but his regrowing arm only reached halfway to his forearm before the healing stopped, leaving the appendage as a semi-malformed piece of flesh and bone.

"No. No, no, no, nononono NO!"

Mana began soaking into my circuits, and I breathed a sigh of relief as my innate magic resistance was gradually rejecting the paining remnants of the cursed field.

"Target Set:," I pointed my remaining glove, now knowing that any action save for knocking the magus unconscious would probably just give him more time to formulate a plan and/or pull another trick up his sleeve.

'Maul' was simply a command in my Mystic Code to go berserk at the set target, forgoing accuracy for flailing wildly at the opponent, uncaring of its state and surroundings.

"Strike." 

This was the polar opposite of that command; the mental focus I needed was absurd to control every thread of the Code to move in the directions I wanted them to.

The threads flew at the magus, still in some state of catatonia that I was responsible for, and the resulting attack landed perfectly.

My knowledge on how to immobilize a person was limited, but what I did know, I put to use.

Every string dug into his flesh at a halfway point in specific areas, looking like he'd been impaled and sewn with wires.

The targets were his joints. From elbows to the knees to his fingers and even a few points in his spine, I now held significant control over his movements in an admittedly grotesque display, but I simply gave myself a mental pat on the back for the efficiency.

This man was pretty much half dead, but a wise strategist once said that a cornered animal always fought the hardest.

"It appears the timing of my arrival couldn't have been worse." I turned to look at the approaching figure of Landric as he looked a bit battered and bruised, "I apologize for the delay."

…

At least he was courteous enough to admit that, but still.

"And where have you been this entire time?" 

He, honest to god, scoffed and crossed his arms, "The quality of those jokes were all but paltry. A single glancing attack easily carved away two of his evocations, not to mention the frailty of his abhorrent undead. I will repeat myself this once, and say that he is without a doubt amateurish."

I raised a brow, knowing that there was still something else that he was going to say as he continued, "The quantity of those minions, however…"

That was all I got before he shook his head in what I could assume was resignation, but I wasn't done.

"Well, with the actual threat out of the way, do you mind telling me just WHY you thought it was a good idea to go into an enemy magus' homefield straight away like that?"

His stance wavered for a moment, before he slightly narrowed his eyes at me, "I do not mind. After all, it was only natural that the conclusion of this battle would go into our favor. The Forvedge are clearly superior in every aspect possible to this…wandering filth of a hedge thaumaturge."

"What if it went a different way, then? What if his craft lied subtly enough to deceive us, or his summons numerous enough to overpower us, or his craft having something that could surpass us in some way?" I asked, my poker face still calm as I threw quick glances every few seconds to keep an eye on Jaegar.

He actually looked a tiny bit confused as a sneer took place on him, "If? There is no "if", child. The Forvedge were the victors in this battle the moment it started. Our craft is superior; and if he could not even defeat you in a duel, then it is obvious that he wasn't worth much more than a walking resource in the first place. A mildly impressive application of bounded fields not withstanding."

I narrowed my expression at him, "Did you even take into account the factors of the battle? The number of troops he used, the boundaries he employed, the Codes he could've equipped from his Workshop?"

The heat from his glare increased, "You are bold to presume I did not. Why else would I have binded the great amount of evocations as my Familiars? I had been surveilling this area the moment we discovered it. Or, did you actually think me a fool who would not consider a safer precedence in this situation?"

At that, I shut my mouth, actually… impressed at what he claimed.

Maybe I was the fool for thinking of him as a fool, sure, but information was always key in any situation. Information that he didn't bother to share with me when I needed it. 

No matter what he called those 'paltry' summons, there was still the very real chance that we could've been killed, and the fact that I was the one without that important knowhow made it all the more troublesome.

This man was a great magus - despite his circuits - and he was a shit father. But he was a shit father that Fiore and I needed, with me fulfilling the emotional teacher figure that my sister needs as a child, and(I'll reluctantly admit) Landric to lecture us in all things Mysterious. So if either of us died, it was still a game over in my eyes.

Landric walked past me. It didn't take a genius to realize that he was wanting to inspect the intruder of his land.

I didn't want to shout a warning, no matter how dangerous a paralyzed opponent could be. The 'superior magus' , as he called himself, could figure out his own precautions anyway. But upon a closer inspection at the hedge mage,

He was already dead.

A few minutes passed as I kept my guard up, and the elder Forvedge investigated the area and culprit with various trinkets.

"How flawed this spell was, I cannot imagine." I heard him muse out loud.

"Pardon?" 

The Forvedge raised the crimson grimoire that was now in his hands, to which I remarked to him about why it was still intact from all the magical arson it was subjected to.

"This very tome not only documents the lowly achievements and spells this clan has accomplished, it is also a family Mystic Code that holds a large portion of their Magic Crest." He summarized with an understandable level of patronization.

A Magic Crest was the sum of a magus family's work - a family's most precious treasure. Beginning from a number of magic circuits that were spiritually removed from a person, to then implant into a compatible host(usually a blood relative), it was embedded with spells and circuits from a predecessor to give unto a suitable heir. This process would repeat for generations, which was the main reason why older magus families were more favoured than the younger ones.

In many cases, the spells catalogued into a crest would become easier to cast as the complexity of an older Crest not only stabilized the Mystery better, but also held some amount of crystallized Mystery in itself. Just like a Noble Phantasm.

Separating a Magic Crest like Jaegar did would make for an exceptional Mystic Code if he could tune the Crest properly, but it was kind of apparent that it would become a prime target to steal once its value was revealed. 

"This…'Rotunstein' created a boundary based spell that would steal the life of those who intruded upon the territory, granting a degree of immortality." He scoffed as he continued, "A glaring flaw that he did not account was that it had to be supplied a continuous amount of odic force, lest the user would perish as an aberration within Gaia, as they would sacrifice their humanity to become a semi-spiritual being. That, and it would be just as debilitating if the boundary was destroyed. I believe you can attest to that aspect, can you not?"

I blinked. 

I blinked again and my poker face held.

"My Familiars spotted the weak links easily." Was all I responded as I took in that information.

Did I just botch someone's attempt at gaining a very limited Heaven's Feel?

He grunted in affirmation, "To be expected, a 4th generation hedge mage that is little over a century old wouldn't have the knowledge to properly employ this theory."

I raised a brow, "Wouldn't that only have somewhat of a difference compared to us? Fiore will be the 7th head of a 2 century old family, so how big of a gap could it be?"

"Would a mere hedge mage have the resources and education that a proper lineage provides?" He shot back.

I nodded, unoffended, "Fair."

"You may leave the rest of this predicament to me. The culprit has been eliminated, and I have a fairly spacious atelier to plunder." 

I responded with another nod, and got up to leave.

With a firm but unaggressive clap on my shoulder, he talked once more.

"Although, I will say this once: you have done a great task at your age and lived to its conclusion. For that, I commend you, boy. Be proud of that."

Ah, of course he picked this time to be all paternal and sympathetic. It was appreciated, but not as accepted as I think it is.

He received from me another brief nod behind my back as I stared into the forest, only a bit fed up by how this event had gone.

Peter met up with me by a random tree, jumping back onto my head and lying there while I treaded back. The spiders I used to bomb the bounded field were dead via kamikaze, but their sacrifices weren't in vain.

I walked back to the castle, Fiore already asleep by the time I finished my moonlit walk.

My Workshop was as pristine as it could be, materials neatly arranged in their sections, and I admired that fact as I vaguely recalled it as a habit that was drilled upon me.

I chucked Peter(Petra, now that I contemplated the name sake) back into her web on my ceiling, and put the runic spear into the reject corner of my room, resolving to make actually decent Codes when I have the time.

My body was definitely fatigued, yet the weight of everything that had happened this evening wasnt-

My circuits, right, they were still active after all this time, only lowering into a somewhat noticeable heat that brought more comfort than irritation.

I turned off my mental trigger, letting go of the metaphorical light of the ideal I grasped.

A moment passed, and then-

P̵͕̯͍̄̉̽̌ͅà̴̛̭̩i̶̢̡̠͌͛ṋ̸̢̝̥̄̐.̶̫̻̐ ̷̼͙̳̹͐͒̋̽A̷̠̻̓̓̕ͅn̵̳̭̤̠̐̏̂͝g̵̤͎̅͋̕u̷̙̓͐i̷̧̲͆ş̴̡̯̃̐h̵͙̟̩͠.̷̳͓̖̰̉͂͋̈́ ̶̻̟̳͊T̷̢̞͕̀e̶͕̥̺͂̿̃̇ŗ̴͍͆r̸̦̀ô̶̲͔͎̦͘͘ŗ̴̧͚̹̑.̷̨̨̛͕̎̍̌ ̸̜̮͙̼̎̓̉̈́H̴̥̱̓̓E̶̠͖̜͋͆̌̚L̶̢̛P̴̧̜̮̍̑̇͆!̶̘̙̫̯̈̀̿

Everything hit me.

It was only many hours later that I could find the strength to come out of my room with Fiore checking on me, eyes red from tears, muscles tired from fatigue, and body littered with inflicted scratches.

And it was a day later that I was thankful that my bounded field silenced the rest of my screams.

-0-0-0-

Magical Index Time!

Concept:[Equivalent Exchange]

Excerpt written by Meriwether Alcovan Valualeta in Elementary Insight into Basic Thaumaturgical Theory(1821)™.

"The everpresent law that applies to all Magecraft. For something to be gained, there will always be a cost. A Mystery cannot be evoked without something lost in the process, which can involve modification to an existing object. Eye for an eye; prana for prana; soul for a soul. The process of identifying the price payed in each magical foundation is dependent on the flexibility of the engraved theory, as well as the size of one's reserves.

Take for example - the simple mystery of 'mankind controlling fire'. The inferior magus must inscribe a Formalcraft array, along with a material sacrifice, to properly connect with the foundation and enact the spell with their meager supply. Whereas, the superior magus can achieve the same result by chanting an appropriate aria and a flare of their greater magic circuits. 

Another notable mention would be the field of Curses, that utilizes the Law as a fundamental rule, as 'to curse another is to curse oneself' and vice versa. That, however, is a topic that will not be delved upon in this book."

AN: If you're a bit confused about the end, lemme explain. Basically, it's the Law of Equivalent Exchange. To quote the previous chapter: "A minimal amount of prana for a maximal amount of mind trickery." SI!Caules didn't take into account that his pseudo Gamer's Mind would fall apart the moment the spell ended, along with the backlash of everything that just happened within the span of an hour, and now he has to deal with the fact he just killed, maimed, and wrecked somebody.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk.