Chapter 0012: Sorcery Simulation

Three days later.

With disheveled hair, a face covered in grime, and bloodshot eyes, Grim closed the book with a sigh. At last, the long-awaited chime of the chip echoed in his mind.

“Bzzt... the Flame Arrow data model has been successfully constructed!”

It had not come easily—far from it! Unlike the first construction, the Hand of Fire was a spell Grim had already mastered. As long as he could cast it in its entirety, the chip could simulate its model within Grim’s mental realm through precise control of spiritual fluctuations. Everything, in that case, was smooth and effortless.

But Flame Arrow was another matter. Grim had yet to master it; he had never even cast it successfully once. The chip’s abilities to mimic, record, and store were useless under such circumstances. Thus, Grim had to take a different approach: etching every principle and casting technique related to Flame Arrow into his mind, then entrusting the chip to synthesize and analyze the data, searching for the most suitable method of spellcasting for him.

The model constructed in this way could not replace a genuine spiritual model; it was instead a kind of special arcane experiment.

Pressing his fingers to his brow, Grim steadied himself and said in a low voice, “Begin simulation!”

A crisp tone sounded, and a phantom identical to Grim was projected in his mind. Following the model’s instructions, the apparition began to chant the incantation for Flame Arrow with a forceful cadence. Through his connection with the chip, Grim’s consciousness merged with the phantom. As the chant progressed, he shifted his spiritual frequencies, while the phantom’s hands moved gracefully, guiding the gathering elemental energy into the shape of a flaming arrow.

Unfortunately, due to his lack of proficiency, by the fourteenth syllable of the chant, the phantom’s gestures lagged half a beat behind. In Grim’s mental world, the half-formed arrow of fire suddenly exploded, and a violent wave of flames instantly engulfed the phantom.

Had this been the real world, Grim would have lost half his room to the blast. But here, in this illusory simulation, a violent shimmer of light and shadow erased every trace of the explosion, resetting the scene to its initial state.

Though he knew well that none of this was real, the phantom under Grim’s control could not help but wipe a nonexistent sheen of cold sweat from its brow. To watch a massive fireball erupt before his very eyes and swallow his own body—such a shock made even Grim’s steely heart skip a beat.

To truly experience the process, Grim had poured his entire consciousness into the phantom. So, one could say it was an illusion—or, perhaps, that a false reality had already come to pass.

He did not rush into a second attempt. Instead, he closed his eyes, retracing every step in his mind and pinpointing the cause of his mistake. Only then did he snap his eyes open and begin the second simulation.

Alas, he failed again! This time, he stumbled at the seventeenth syllable, failing to adjust his spiritual resonance. The half-constructed model exploded once more, and surging elemental fire devoured his form.

Light and shadow flickered, the scene rewound, and the mental world returned to its starting point.

Grim managed a helpless, bitter smile and steadied his mood. Soon, the empty realm of his spirit echoed again with his resounding incantation.

Explosion after explosion, endless detonations!

Each failure was much the same: if it wasn’t a gesture lagging behind the chant, it was a misaligned surge of spiritual energy. No matter which part went awry, the result was always the same—endless explosions.

In the real world, Grim would have been blasted to dust long ago. But here, he sat unharmed before his wooden desk, dazed and exhausted.

After so many attempts, his meager reserves of spiritual energy were utterly spent. Whenever he was drained, he’d drag himself to bed for a deep sleep. Once rested and restored, he would devour a hearty meal in the dining hall, then return to his quarters for another round of simulated practice.

It was through sheer grit and determination that, by chance, Grim finally succeeded in casting Flame Arrow in the simulation.

When the elemental fire quietly coalesced into a magical arrow, hovering stably between his hands, tears of joy nearly welled in his eyes. With a surge of excitement, the next moment, the massive elemental blaze swept over him once more.

But this time, instead of frustration, Grim let out a hearty, triumphant laugh before his phantom self was obliterated.

...

Seated upright at his desk, Grim’s tightly shut eyes suddenly flew open, brimming with unconcealed elation.

“Chip, did you archive the simulation just now?”

“The sequence has been recorded and archived. Ready to be replayed at any time...”

Grim nodded, striving for composure, though his clenched fists betrayed his excitement.

This new function of the chip was an extraordinary boon. Without the constructed virtual mental world, Grim would have been forced to practice Flame Arrow over and over in the spell practice chamber, enduring the physical and mental backlash of each failed attempt. Every severe backlash required a period of convalescence to recover, which greatly slowed learning progress.

Thus, among all the apprentices in the Tower, most who had mastered only one or two spells were still considered beginners—this was the primary reason. Of course, there were always a few who concealed their true abilities, never revealing their full strength. After all, each apprentice’s research direction and progress were kept strictly confidential, and prying into another’s affairs was a grave taboo in the Tower.

Still, such cunning individuals were few; the majority struggled at the bottom, their efforts in vain. Grim himself had once been among their number.

But with the chip now awakened, Grim felt the time had come for his own meteoric rise.

“Chip, replay the successful simulation for me!”

A stream of data flickered. In his mind, Grim once again saw himself carefully casting the spell. Immersing his consciousness in the phantom form, he relived every detail of the process—the subtle shifts of spirit, every nuance laid bare.

Though it was a simulated casting, Grim had followed every step as if it were real; apart from the absence of true elemental infusion, it was no different from casting in reality.

The value of such a successful simulation was beyond question. It could save Grim six months to a year of painstaking effort and spare him the endless cycle of injury and recovery that would otherwise be inevitable.

If he could succeed once or twice in a hundred attempts, it meant his knowledge and ability were already sufficient for the spell’s basic requirements. The only barrier left was proficiency.

And that was precisely the chip’s forte!

After reviewing the process repeatedly and confirming he had mastered all the critical points, Grim hurried from his room straight to the spell practice chamber.

Such was the inconvenience for apprentice sorcerers. Their control over sorcery was feeble; practicing unfamiliar spells in their own quarters could have dire consequences. Thus, they had to spend money to rent the Tower’s practice rooms for experimentation. Every new spell mastered was built on a foundation of vast knowledge and copious gold.

...

The Tower’s spell practice rooms were located on the third floor, a space set aside for special use.

Though they were members of the Tower, these apprentices could access only the first three floors. The first floor was for new initiates; the second was the living and recreation area for formal apprentices; the third was a public area for experiments and practice.

Facilities open to apprentices included the library, potion mixing rooms, summoning chambers, alchemy labs, spell practice rooms, sealing chambers, curse altars, voodoo altars, and magic herb cultivation rooms. Yet, a lone wolf like Grim frequented only the library and the practice rooms—he lacked the funds to dabble elsewhere.

It was dinner time, and few apprentices lingered here. Grim hurried to pay Arm, who managed the practice rooms, ten gold coins and received a special card, entitling him to an hour of practice.

For an apprentice, an hour was no short time. Their pitiful reserves of spiritual energy could scarcely sustain half an hour of wild casting. If spent recklessly, Grim could exhaust himself in just fifteen minutes.

Following the symbol on his card, Grim reached the corresponding stone door. With a wave of the card, the heavy door swung open soundlessly.

The so-called spell practice room was a simple stone chamber of about forty square meters, with a massive humanoid target at the far end. Its pitch-black, lustrous material marked it as anti-magic obsidian. The low-level spells of apprentice sorcerers could never damage such a sturdy target, making it the ideal practice dummy.

For those seeking to hone curses or special spells, one had to pay extra for appropriate magical creatures as targets—or sneak outside the Tower to practice those secretive arts.