Chapter 34: The Art of Foul Clouds

The transformation of the stone statue had already caught the attention of the lizardfolk. The surrounding lizardfolk fell to their knees, praying fervently. More and more of their kin gradually joined in, and by the time the lizardfolk chieftain arrived with the tribe’s warriors, Bowen’s new spell was nearing completion.

First-tier magic: Cloud Mist!

The spell conjured a thick fog within a certain area, similar in effect to the Hidden Mist Jutsu from that ninja tale. “Cloud Mist” was one of the few spells requiring only the incantation and model, with no need for material components.

The only requirement was to be a formal spellcaster; the spell’s effect depended mainly on the caster’s own power and, crucially, on environmental factors. In a volcanic region, the effect paled compared to a lakeside or swamp. And, as it happened, “Cloud Mist” was considered one of the most useless spells in common use. Spellcasters weren’t ninjas or thieves; they mostly fought at range, making this spell rarely borrowed from the Academy’s spell archives—fewer than a hundred had ever checked it out.

Chip analysis revealed that “Cloud Mist” wasn’t truly without a medium; since fog was primarily water vapor, it drew on moisture from the air or even the human body. Only a small amount was borrowed during casting, so even in a volcanic region, the body’s water wouldn’t be depleted enough to cause harm.

But Bowen had other ideas. What if he altered the spell’s medium in the model to target a specific object? For example, if he targeted a small lake, could he magnify the effect and directly convert lake water into mist—essentially a form of artificial rainfall? Of course, this would require significant changes to the spell, perhaps amounting to the creation of an entirely new magic.

Magic that could affect climate was generally high-level, well beyond his current ability. Yet that didn’t stop him from attempting smaller experiments—such as changing a designated target. For this, he prepared a dead egg, since the magical web still recognized a fresh one as a living thing. He replaced some of the egg’s contents with a specially mixed reagent.

This was to test another of his hypotheses, which the chip’s simulation suggested had a seventy percent chance of success.

Everything was proceeding according to Bowen’s plan, except for one variable: his current location—the stone idol worshipped by the lizardfolk.

To them, this statue was the very embodiment of their faith. Now, after Bowen’s chip-induced resonance simulation, a false miracle had been triggered, stirring the lizardfolk into a frenzy.

After suffering migrations, wars, and the deaths of their kin, the entire tribe was steeped in fear and confusion. Their faith in the statue was little more than a spiritual anchor; judging by the idol’s shape, most of them scarcely understood the god they worshipped.

So when the idol suddenly manifested a sign, many lizardfolk believed their prayers had been answered by some unknown deity. Their emotions soared to fever pitch.

A surge of pure faith coalesced around the idol, enveloping Bowen—linked by his chip resonance—in this power of belief.

In that instant, he once again sensed the very source of magic, but this time it was unlike his previous insights.

Azure lines appeared before his eyes, swiftly sketching out the spell model for Cloud Mist.

As the model fully manifested, his consciousness abruptly split in two: one self, filled with all his emotions, became a spectator; the other, coldly rational, began to analyze the model in real time.

The rational mind assessed and modified the spell, expanding the framework, filling in large blank areas, and making the once-simple structure complex and intricate.

Soon, a completely new spell model stood before him. His split consciousness merged, and he was promptly ejected from the magical web.

When his awareness returned to his body, Bowen instinctively muttered, “Foul Cloud!”

The magical web was triggered again, faint ripples spreading outward with Bowen at the center.

Meanwhile, far away at the edge of the swamp, the members of the Arcane Society sensed something and stared, dumbfounded, toward the lizardfolk settlement.

“Is that... a primordial spell?” Cook drew in a sharp breath.

“Is his plan to create a new arcane art? Isn’t he afraid of failure?” Berron asked in disbelief.

“So this is what true genius looks like?” Jennifer’s eyes sparkled like stars.

Dahliena was so shaken by the sudden turn of events that she seemed almost electrified, her mind going blank.

President Lisper felt a chill run down her scalp. “This is too fast! It’s been so little time, and there’s yet another new arcane art.”

The ranger, a half-baked spellcaster at best, had no idea what all this meant. Perched atop the trees, he’d been watching the distant lizardfolk village and saw faint gray fog beginning to spread across the swamp.

Marsh gas? No, this was clearly magical in origin. What kind of spell could cover such a vast area? He hurried to alert the Arcane Society.

Only then did the others snap out of their shock, watching as the gray mist thickened, rolling toward them from the swamp. Knowing this was Bowen’s new arcane art and that he’d cast it without prior testing in order to maximize its effect, they understood the risk he’d taken.

Primordial magic, the first instance of any arcane art, was always empowered by the magical web upon its initial casting, its power amplified according to the model’s completeness. This was why so few high-level arcanists existed; even conventional spell research was fraught with danger, let alone experimenting with new spells.

Most new spells were born in the lab; using them untested on the battlefield was virtual suicide. In Nether’s history, those who took such risks either exploded on the spot or suffered mental collapse.

When the magical web’s resonance reached them, they realized that Bowen’s new arcane art had succeeded—hence their utter astonishment.

“Is this an improved Cloud Mist?” Lisper wondered aloud, uncertain.

Few ever borrowed “Cloud Mist” to begin with, and even fewer practiced it; only those with more points than they knew what to do with would bother. Only Lisper, as president, had seen references to it in the research logs of her predecessors, always ranking it among the least useful magics.

Then she recalled Bowen’s parting words: “There are no useless spells, only useless casters.”

As the mist thickened and darkened, the entire swamp was shrouded in its embrace. The fog spread rapidly, expanding toward them with each passing moment.

A bird flew overhead, only to fall abruptly after passing through the mist. The group’s expressions changed instantly.

“Quick, we need to get out of here!” the ranger shouted. As he urgently sought a route, the Arcane Society’s members began chanting spells under their breath.

Moments later, the ranger watched in shock as they all took to the air.

“Bloody hell—they can all fly!” he exclaimed, then realized, “Wait! Don’t leave me behind!”

As the mist crept closer, the ranger scrambled down from the tree with unprecedented speed, rolling and tumbling away in a desperate flight.

The gray fog finally halted five hundred meters into the forest, while the group stopped a hundred meters from its edge, astounded by the spell’s sheer range.

After being startled by Bowen Iolum so many times, they were almost becoming immune.

“This covers almost as much as a fifth-circle spell,” Berron remarked.

“Have you ever seen a spell of such range at fifth circle?”

“No!”

“Figures...”

In truth, when Bowen’s arcane spell succeeded, his invisibility had already faded. Yet, cloaked in the glow of faith, he was wreathed in radiance so pure that even a temple priest would have thought a god had descended.

The lizardfolk chieftain and his warriors were so terrified, they fell flat to the earth, begging for divine mercy.

Seeing them all cowed, Bowen relaxed. According to the chip’s analysis, the chieftain was nearly a high-tier warrior, and together with his fighters, they posed a real threat.

As for “Cloud Mist,” it lived up to its reputation as the most useless spell—the casting method was excruciating, requiring the caster to stand motionless after the incantation until the fog formed.

Fortunately, the tribe possessed no shamans or priests; otherwise, Bowen would have had to flee at once.

Still, he didn’t have to wait long. The chieftain grew suspicious, but dared not challenge the scene immediately.

This gained Bowen precious time. As the gray mist spread, lizardfolk began to collapse one by one.

At last, the chieftain realized the truth. But being closest to the statue, he’d inhaled the most mist. Even with his resistance to toxins, his vision doubled, and the two spears he hurled missed their mark completely. With a final roar, his limbs failed him, and he collapsed, forced to witness everything helplessly, making guttural sounds only he could understand.

When the last of the lizardfolk sank to the ground, the chieftain finally closed his eyes in despair.