“──Now, next, I must consult an expert on magical tomes.”
After arranging the details of the work request and payment with Inasa (who said payment wasn’t necessary, but I couldn’t agree to that, so we settled on a fair price later), I once again found myself walking the streets of the magical city of Delmond.
This time, my destination was the Witches’ Magical Research Society, Sabbat de Sorcières.
“Witches, huh… Indeed, they have a tendency to collect magical tomes,” Shes, walking beside me, remarked with a slight grimace. His tone carried a faint edge.
“Shes, do you perhaps know one of these witches?” I asked.
“…No, not personally. However, my reason for coming to this region was to deal with a witch who lived in a northern outpost of the former magical nation.”
“Ah, I see,” I replied.
I wanted to ask more, but I wondered if bringing Shes along to meet witches was a bad idea, given this history. Sensing my thoughts, Shes shrugged.
“That is all in the past. You need not worry. I won’t act impulsively.”
“…I see. That’s reassuring.”
“By the way, Lord Kiwi,” Shes said, changing the heavy mood with deliberate brightness, “you’re working on creating a magical scripture for the magical nation, but will a magical tome actually be of any use?”
“I’ve researched that thoroughly. Magical scriptures and tomes operate on the same basic principle. They’re tools that allow users to understand written scripts and channel power to activate techniques.”
“Ah, I see,” Shes said.
“But magical scriptures have evolved further as tools. Their text is divided into chapters and verses, making them reusable. By combining various chapters and verses, one can employ sacred techniques more efficiently.”
For example, combining Chapter 126, Verse 24: ‘Those who take up the sword shall perish by the sword’ with Chapter 105, Verse 44: ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’ allows for the activation of a basic sacred technique to repel magic.
“On the other hand, magical tomes lack such mechanisms. They directly transcribe incantations for magic activation. Thus, advanced spells require a hefty tome for each type.”
“I see, so magical tomes have lagged in development,” Shes commented.
“Well… it might seem that way. But for demons, there probably hasn’t been much need to optimize magical tomes.”
“How so?”
“The difference in lifespans—between humans and demons.”
Humans, living at most a century, needed to absorb and apply knowledge efficiently. Demons, with lifespans averaging over three centuries, could afford to learn magic systematically, from basics to advanced techniques.
For demons, magical tomes were akin to reference books kept at home. They carefully studied the magic described within, mastering the techniques for use without relying on the tome itself.
“But that approach might no longer suffice. Ironically, war accelerates technological advancement.”
It isn’t the war itself that accelerates it, though. Rather, individuals like me, born into wartime, recklessly steal enemy technologies and adapt them for our own. New advancements emerge from these processes, prompting enemy nations to develop counter-technologies. This cycle fuels the rapid pace of war.
But I can’t help it.
I want to try it. I must try it. No one can stop this curiosity.
So, is it my fault, then?
…Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.
“Time is of the essence. Even if it’s crude at first, I must quickly present the new testament tome I took from the Holy Maiden to the witches for adaptation. And then, we shall complete it… our Magical Nation’s Scripture-Tome.”
“Indeed, haste is key in war. But… um, that name for the book… isn’t it a bit long?”
“The Magical Nation’s Scripture-Tome, you mean?”
“Yes…”
I see. I thought it was a succinct and descriptive name for its development process. Perhaps focusing more on its purpose would be better?
“Then how about this—The Black Grimoire of Healing?”
[Side: Inasa]
“The Magical Nation’s Scripture-Tome… I’ve been entrusted with writing its story, but what on earth is that? What kind of tale would suit it…?”
Seated at his desk, Inasa balanced a feather quill on his long nose, staring at the ceiling.
Kiwi had told him the story didn’t need to adhere to a specific genre, as long as its sections flowed smoothly and were easy to remember. A single short story was all that was required for now.
The deadline was by the end of the week. Depending on the quality, more work might follow.
“If there’s going to be a continuation, I’ll need a theme I can stay passionate about,” Inasa muttered.
He knew better than anyone that writing on autopilot wasn’t sustainable. The first story, short as it may be, needed a theme he could stay committed to if sequels were requested.
“My own theme, something I’ll always want to pursue…”
He pondered.
Then, suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind.
That day in the Elden detention camp—a scene of despair and hope.
The despair of having his shoulder shot and his son, Pochi , taken from him. And the hope of reclaiming him, as well as saving his own life, through the intervention of a hero.
“Ah!”
Inasa sprang to his feet. He’d almost drifted off to sleep, but the brief lapse had brought clarity.
“That’s it! I have a theme I want to write about—a story I must share with the people of the magical nation!”
Grabbing his quill, he began writing:
“1. On that day, in the iron cage of Elden, the bloodied Inasa beheld a white robe fluttering with hope. 2. …”
