Chapter 137: From Fossil to Mud

Borne glanced at the ranger but didn’t bother to explain. When he drew the divine script a second time, he faintly received some information—it turned out the elven pantheon had taken notice of him.

“Could it be because of the alchemy workshop? Or perhaps my identity as a traveler from another world? Or some other reason?” Borne speculated silently.

No matter the cause, there was clearly something about him that caught the attention of the deity. Even an unbeliever like him was being granted divine power and courted.

It was then Borne realized that unbelievers could also become priests, as long as they forged a pact with a deity and pledged themselves. Of course, such contracts included the fate of their souls after death.

A chill ran down Borne’s spine. This method felt oddly familiar—it wasn’t just the devils who played such games. With enough bargaining chips, even gods could be negotiated with.

At that moment, Borne recalled the stories his grandfather had told him about “great merchants” in his childhood. Indeed, deities were nothing less than consummate “big merchants.”

Had this been when he first crossed over, he might have considered clinging to a god’s favor. But now, he was no longer interested and even felt a strong aversion.

Still, to entice him, the elven god offered many alluring benefits: the rank of high priest, rapid promotion to legend within a short time, and most tempting to Borne, a series of professions to choose from. Had there been more time, perhaps even more options would have been available.

The elven elder had believed in his gods all his life, yet they never acknowledged him. Borne, by merely dabbling a little, attracted divine attention. It was no wonder the elder looked as he did—if it were him, he would have broken down long ago.

Perhaps it was also related to the druidic faith in the Earth and Nature. This domain clearly belonged to Ganas’s priesthood. The elven pantheon was still a junior in comparison, hardly daring to poach followers from Ganas.

Though druids worshipping Ganas might not be rare, even so, the elven deities wouldn’t dare to encroach on their territory.

Suddenly, Borne felt a pang of sympathy for those divine attendants and believers who pinned their futures and destinies entirely on the whims of deities. Their fate and success depended wholly on a god’s favor—a system reminiscent of the feudal dynasties from his memories of ancient China.

“System, reconstruct the spell formula. Simulate replacing the divine script!” Borne commanded in his mind.

“Beep! Task established! Insufficient relevant data. Probability of replacement: 37.2%!” a mechanical voice echoed in his head, followed by the appearance of a dozen divine scripts before his eyes.

But Borne no longer dared to sketch the divine script with magic power. The holy emblem of a deity was not something to be drawn casually, especially not with magic or on objects possessing extraordinary properties—it would surely attract divine scrutiny.

He then took out pen and paper to copy the remaining divine scripts, seeking the elven elder’s guidance.

The elder, having lived long enough, remained calm despite Borne’s repeated blows, patiently and meticulously teaching him.

Yet the elder failed to notice that even his earliest students had not received such detailed instruction. Initially skeptical, he now secretly hoped Borne could truly “transform” the spell.

The foundation of faith was trembling…

Though the divine script was advanced knowledge, the elven elder himself knew little. Thankfully, Borne did not expect the elder to explain everything; half of what he learned exceeded even his own expectations.

After gathering enough data and analyzing it through the chip, Borne discovered a startling fact: the so-called “divine spell” was incomplete.

If the elder hadn’t been nearby, Borne would have cursed loudly.

This was outright cheating—a spell with less than 40% completion, yet by adding divine script, it could be activated and used!

Borne’s own “teleportation” spell wasn’t even used unless it had over 90% completion. He had to experiment hundreds of times under the count’s supervision, eventually completing it with the help of the arcane network.

To arcanists, a spell under 50% completion wasn’t even worthy of being called a spell.

Even an 80% completed spell was dangerous. If the caster were a computer, the spell would be the program. A well-designed program inevitably had bugs when first run; an incomplete one wouldn’t run at all.

But humans weren’t computers. When the mind “crashed,” it could reboot. However, an incomplete spell, when constructed mentally, could cause not just failure but severe consequences—ranging from a mental shutdown to catastrophic brain damage.

A spell with less than 40% completion merely pointed in a general direction. Yet, with divine power, it worked perfectly—absurd beyond belief.

This was cheating, plain and simple.

Despite his grumbling, life had to go on.

Knowing the role of the divine script made modification much easier. Transmuting fossils into mud was a transmutation spell, relatively simple compared to the rare spatial teleportation spells. There were many incomplete transmutation formulas to reference, both in the academy and stored on the chip.

After some optimization, combining with the “Fossil to Mud” formula, completion soared to over 80%.

Seeing Borne deep in thought, the elven elder sighed softly and shook his head with a self-deprecating smile.

“Today’s been quite the shock—actually believing a brat could casually improve a divine spell.”

Putting aside his unusual talents, Borne’s understanding of spell formulas was unlike anything the elder had ever seen.

Borne only needed one hearing of the spell’s structure to point out crucial flaws. He wasn’t simply memorizing magic but comprehending it on the spot.

The elder was about to leave when Borne suddenly spoke up: “Raimon, help me prepare some clay and clean water.”

“Right away, boss,” Raimon responded, turning to leave immediately.

Soon, Raimon returned with the materials. Borne took the clay and water, glanced around, and after a moment’s thought said, “Let’s go outside; it’s not suitable to test here.”

He then turned to the elder. “Master Hill, come with me and have a look. Feel free to point out any shortcomings.”

Upon hearing this, cold sweat broke out on the elder’s brow.

“Clay and water? Could it be he has actually modified the spell?”

The elder found it hard to believe but was secretly hopeful.

Though conflicted, he still nodded on the surface.

Raimon and the ranger, familiar with Borne, knew he was about to show off again. Black and Lilith were excited.

The group followed Borne to the eastern district, once the site of a major basilisk demolition. It remained a wasteland, especially with the frozen winter soil complicating the cleanup.

Snow still fell; only a few scavengers lingered.

All were professionals, unfazed by the cold. The two young ones, awakened with bloodline powers, were impervious to cold and heat. Thus, the group dressed lightly. The scavengers, spotting them, kept their distance.

Borne addressed Raimon and the ranger: “Keep a close watch.”

“Understood!”

“Yes, got it!”

The elven elder approached with a grave expression. “Are you sure? You know the dangers of spells. Your brilliance is just beginning—don’t act recklessly!”

A warmth stirred in Borne’s heart. “Master Hill, trust me. I won’t do anything I’m not confident in.”

The elder gave Borne a long look before stepping aside.

A few scavengers, hiding at a distance, watched the group curiously. Could there be treasure buried in this ruin? Why else would such “big shots” appear? Secretly, they hoped to benefit.

Suddenly, a youth in splendid clothes stepped forward, holding strange objects in both hands.

Though far off, the sound of Borne’s voice was faintly carried on the wind.

One scavenger’s face changed. Whispering urgently, “That’s a spellcaster! Get out of here!” He then dashed off.

Scavengers rarely gathered closely; only a few nearby heard the warning. The others were confused but quickly took the hint and fled.

At that moment, a brilliant light flared behind them—it was the spellcaster releasing magic.

Everyone wished they had sprouted extra legs to run faster.

A curious scavenger glanced back and nearly went weak at the knees. The shattered ruins melted away like ice, rapidly spreading towards them…

(End of chapter)