Chapter 330: Chapter 327: Originally, There Was No Magic Addiction
Having two minds crammed into one skull was certainly not a pleasant experience.
As the memories continued to surge, Rorschach found himself transported to an ancient forest. A helpless, abandoned infant was wailing, circled by a pack of wolves that was waiting for their leader’s signal to begin the feast.
The wolves’ eyes held an eerie glow, and a subtle wind stirred through their fur. They were clearly Demons, a species now extinct. Just as the infant was about to become a mere morsel for them, the look in their eyes suddenly changed, losing all aggression.
It was the Wise Man! This Ancient Mage had been watching from the sidelines, and Rorschach was witnessing everything through his perspective. Through the Wise Man’s eyes, Rorschach saw the Spiritual Power flaring within the Demon Wolves’ minds; the Ancient Mage had used some sort of Magic to control every last one of them.
The pack of Demon Wolves dispersed, becoming the infant’s guards. A she-wolf stayed behind, feeding the small infant with her own milk.
The infant grew into a child, and then a young man... During this time, the Ancient Mage revealed himself, teaching the boy knowledge and virtue. He used a righteous faith to guide him, yet the one thing he never taught him was Magic.
The boy grew into a handsome Samurai wielding a Sharp Sword and was accepted into a human tribe. Women were captivated by his good looks, while men were won over by his martial prowess.
They lived and farmed in a small town near the forest. The land was fertile and the water plentiful, but the taxes imposed by the Elves were heavy, and they were also required to contribute their people for conscripted labor or as sacrifices to the Upper God. The young man felt that things could not go on like this. He persuaded the others, secretly amassed power, and led the able-bodied youth to practice martial arts.
But the Elves had a powerful Priest. He had to be defeated first, or the humans would stand no chance. The young man chose to seek help from his teacher and father, the great Wise Man.
"Go! You no longer need me. Do what you want to do." The Ancient Mage gifted him a shield, upon which were drawn profound Runes, and also a longsword. The sword’s forging technique was exquisite, with a pattern in the steel like innumerable overlapping feathers, yet it was a perfectly unified whole.
As he presented them, the Wise Man said: "This sword can pierce an enemy’s Spirit Armor, and this shield can block any blade, Magic, and even the wrath of a Divine Spirit.
"Blessings upon you, Oduff: Wherever you can see, you will reach. Wherever you go, you will conquer. Use your wisdom and courage to lead your people out of this sea of suffering..."
WHACK! The Wise Man brought his Magic Staff down hard on Oduff’s head. "Don’t you dare use your sword to stab your shield! Hacking at it is forbidden, too!"
The memories that followed began to blur and fast-forward. Rorschach’s own Spirit was in a bad state, and he could only vaguely sense that the Wise Man’s perspective was taking him to many places, where he met many people. He had many like-minded Mages and students, and they organized a secret society...
Finally, the memories slowed down again, and the pressure on Rorschach’s mind suddenly eased. The Wise Man seemed to have returned to his homeland. Amid a world of swirling yellow sand, there was a single dwelling, and from its stable came the cry of an infant.
The Wise Man led another Mage and an elderly, Monk-like man toward the stable. The three of them were each carrying something: pure white salt, pristine water from melted mountain snow, and a type of precious spice...
’Now’s my chance!’ As the flood of memories slowed, Rorschach felt the pressure on his mind ease. He was no longer having an "immersive experience"; instead, his physical senses were a confusing overlap of the vast desert and his own solitary cabin.
’What am I going to do? I managed to suppress the Soul impurities when my power was surging, so...’ Rorschach made up his mind. He wrenched himself free from the Ancient Mage’s experience and began to pump ambient Magic Power into his body, heedless of the damage.
The pain gradually gave way to clarity and relief. Rorschach had now completely thrown off the corrosion of the other’s memories. The massive intake of Magic Power gave him a slight sense of euphoria. As if a great weight had been lifted, the boy wiped the sweat from his forehead. At that moment, the glowing blue network of veins reappeared on his skin, caused by the excess Magic Power venting from him.
’If this were a movie, the experience would be one of a kind. A shame it was unedited, with too much downtime, and it kept shifting from clear to blurry...’ Rorschach had not yet realized the significance of the history he had just experienced. His head was still buzzing, and he simply marveled at how much the old man seemed to like kids.
’He’s been a Mage his whole life. He must be old and lonely, wanting to raise a kid to stave off the boredom...’
After his inner critique, Rorschach realized the ensuing problem—suppressing the Soul impurities depended on him pumping in excess Magic Power. But to rest, he would have to break his state of concentration, and if he broke that state, he wouldn’t be able to rest.
’A guy can’t even get any sleep! Maybe I can get Bart to maintain the Magic for me? I wonder if Andre can help...’ Rorschach had no awareness of how severely abnormal his own mental state had become.
Fortunately, his recent wild thoughts gave him a flash of inspiration. ’Bart? Bart’s Mage Tower has a self-charging Magic Array...’
Unable to find enough Alchemy Potions, Rorschach actually bit through his fingertip. The blood that spurted out was shockingly not bright red or dark red, but a deep blue with a metallic sheen.
He didn’t notice the anomaly. Buoyed by the excess Magic Power, he excitedly began to paint the circuits of the self-charging Magic Array.
"The previous design was too stupid... The resistance is too high... No need for a repetitive nested structure..." Rorschach muttered to himself. He floated up and began to draw the core of the Magic Array on the canopy of his large velvet bed. The Magic Power would then gather there and be injected into him, directly below.
"Still not big enough... All the Magic Power in the entire area must be for my use..." Soon, the walls, the curtains, the surfaces of the cabinets, the floor... The deep blue "bloodstains" covered the enormous room. The circuits twisted and turned endlessly. Rorschach astonishingly completed the highly complex design without even a moment’s pause, his finger moving as if divinely guided.
The moon had passed the midpoint of its journey. The villa’s bedroom looked as though it were covered in dense, overlapping Spells, appearing particularly terrifying and gruesome in the moonlight.
The final stroke of the Magic Array was complete. His fingertip, worn raw, finally began to seep a crimson liquid. Just as Rorschach was about to sink back into the uncontrolled memory flashbacks, the twisted Magic Array filling the space activated. Every circuit lit up, and the center of the array—Rorschach’s bed—was scoured by highly-concentrated Magic Power.
From the perspective of the entire town, the boy had spent half the night miraculously creating a focal point of Magic Power, changing the distribution of ambient Magic Power throughout the city.
"Finally... I can sleep." On the verge of collapse, Rorschach fell backward onto the bed and plunged into slumber.
His dreams were a chaotic jumble. They still contained the Wise Man’s memories, but everything was no longer out of control, instead flashing past in shattered fragments.
...
’Did someone beat me up in the middle of the night?’ Rorschach wondered as he awoke. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes, but he could feel that every part of his body ached with any movement.
Then, when he decided to open his eyes and greet the beautiful day, he was successfully given a nasty fright by his nighttime self. "The f*ck!"
Everywhere he looked was covered in scorched Magic Circuits. When the Magic Array had run for long enough and his "blood" had nearly run out, a massive amount of Magic Power had started to leak from the circuits, corroding the walls, wooden panels, and fabrics.
There were also clusters of multicolored crystals on his bed, which immediately disintegrated into pure Magic Power as soon as Rorschach stirred awake.
’Who’s trying to harm me? Is this a sacrificial ritual?’ Rorschach discovered he was lying directly beneath the core of the Magic Array.
After he was fully awake, he started to understand the situation from last night. He could decipher the entire Magic Array, which proved it was his own doing.
"...A self-charging Magic Array? This is already a Demon Gathering Array... Gotta copy this down, copy this down." He marveled at his creativity from the night before. ’Could it be that absorbing excess Magic Power stimulates brain cells? I wonder if there’s any related research...’
Rorschach surveyed his "great masterpiece" and decided to keep it. After all, he would need to sleep again in the future. However, this was by no means a long-term solution. He had to find a way to deal with the "Soul Rejection."
Feeling somewhat troubled, he hesitated, then tried to pump some Magic Power into himself again before quickly stopping the process.
’This is a treatment of last resort. I have to be restrained, I must be restrained...’
