For this chapter I got bored so I thought I would change my writing style a bit. 👍
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After Bradly had left, I decided it was time to head back to my room. I quietly exited the library, the soft click of the door echoing through the still corridor behind me. The halls of the manor were calm, illuminated by the flickering glow of wall-mounted lanterns. My footsteps tapped gently against the stone floor as I passed towering windows and intricate woodwork.
The lingering scent of old parchment and leather-bound books still clung faintly to my clothes—a reminder of the time I'd just spent buried in musty tomes and magical theory. From the corner of my eye, I caught a final glimpse of Ruth, floating silently between the shelves, pretending not to watch me. Her eyes darted away the moment I looked.
"I feel bad for her," I muttered under my breath. "Though it's her fault for getting on Bradly's bad side."
With a new book in hand, I eventually arrived at my room. As I stepped inside, a familiar warmth greeted me. Everything was just as I had left it—calm, neat, and mine. I closed the door softly behind me, walked over to my bed, and collapsed into it with a long, satisfied sigh.
"Ahhh, this bed is so comfy—I can't get over it," I murmured with a small grin, sinking into the plush mattress.
I glanced down at the book I had brought:
"Magic Crafting for Beginners"
I wonder what magic crafting is really about, I thought as I stared at the title. I know it involves making magical gear and items, but I hope it's not too complicated.
I couldn't contain my excitement. My mind raced with possibilities—ever since Celest first told me about magic crafting, I'd been hooked. Practically every night since then, I had dreamt of the inventions I might one day create. One of the ideas I couldn't shake was creating guns. But after giving it some thought, I realized that introducing gun violence to this world would be a terrible idea. So, I moved on to a better one—what if I made something like an Iron Man suit? That idea stuck. It was cool, practical, and could evolve with time.
I opened the book and flipped to the first page, my fingers tingling with anticipation.
"I guess I should get to reading—I can't wait," I whispered as I dove into the first chapter.
To my surprise, the book was more engaging than I expected. And even more surprising, magic crafting didn't seem all that difficult—at least, not at the beginner level. As long as I used the correct materials, the proper type of magic, and drew the appropriate magic circles, I could craft things with relative ease.
As expected, materials played a major role. While they didn't entirely change the nature of the item being built, they affected its durability and use. For example, stronger metals were perfect for crafting swords or armor, while lighter ones might be better for accessories or tools.
But what really captivated me was the magical theory behind it all. Magic crafting wasn't just assembling parts—it was a fusion of imagination, discipline, and arcane knowledge. Magic circles acted as the framework, the blueprint, for anything I wanted to build. I could change their size, modify their structure, and adapt them to different purposes. The process involved placing the materials within the circle and then imbuing the circle with my own magic.
That's where things got tricky—this part relied heavily on imagination, but also demanded precision. I couldn't just vaguely wish something into existence. I had to be exact.
According to the book, more advanced items—like the magical armor I envisioned—would require intricate circuits and specialized enchantments. But it also hinted that with enough mastery, I might one day be able to imbue flight magic into the suit.
Just the thought of soaring through the sky in a magical suit of armor made my heart race. It felt like I was standing at the edge of a whole new world of possibilities, and I was ready to dive in.
By the time I had finished reading, the sun had already reached its peak. Noon sunlight spilled through the windows of my room, casting a warm glow across the wood floors. The stillness of the space around me, with its shelves of books and the faint scent of parchment, gave way to the stirring realization that the day had quickly passed.
A light knock tapped at the door, breaking the silence.
"Come in," I called, brushing off my trousers.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing Bradly, the ever-dignified butler with silver hair slicked neatly back and a monocle perched over his left eye.
"Good afternoon, young master. It is time for lunch," Bradly said, offering a courteous bow.
Wait, it's already noon? I blinked and turned toward the nearest window, squinting as the bright sun greeted me from its highest point in the sky.
"Alright, Bradly. Lead the way," I replied, stepping out of my room with a long stretch that loosened my stiff limbs.
We made our way through the sunlit halls of the estate, the scent of polished wood and distant cooking guiding us to the dining room. The paintings along the walls, the golden accents on the columns, and the soft thud of our footsteps on the carpet all felt surreal.
The dining room greeted us with quiet warmth. Luka and Celest were already seated, waiting with gentle smiles that made the large table feel far less intimidating. I joined them, and together we shared a simple but hearty lunch.Â
Soon after, the calm of the meal gave way to the open sky and the soft hum of wind. I found myself standing at the edge of the training grounds beside Celest. She wore a light blue dress that fluttered slightly in the breeze, her black hair tied back in a practical ponytail. Her expression was calm but focused, and her eyes lit up when they met mine.
"Mother, what magic will you teach me today?" I asked eagerly, though I had a sneaking suspicion that she'd insist on reinforcing the fundamentals again.
Celest smirked slightly and crossed her arms. "We start with the basics, Adam. Always."