Chapter 59: Chaotic Magic (Please Recommend and Add to Your Favorites)

After hearing the forester’s harrowing tale that could only be described as a brush with death, both of them couldn’t help but sigh with a mixture of emotions. While his story might have carried a hint of self-pity, the severity of his injuries was undeniable—he was lucky to be alive at all.

Bourne himself wasn’t sure whether to call the man fortunate or ill-fated. Nevertheless, running into Bourne was a stroke of luck for him, since they happened to be in need of a guide familiar with the region.

Of course, when it came to so-called “scarce resources,” that was only true in a relative sense. When Bourne and Lisper arrived at the nearest temple, a junior acolyte immediately recognized the family crests on their attire. Before long, a mid-ranking priest came out to greet them warmly, and the two of them managed to acquire six vials of high-quality holy water at an exceptionally low price.

Many might wonder why a priest, whose sole duty is to serve the gods, would bother to show such deference to nobles. In truth, things weren’t so simple. While high-ranking clerics or priests could indeed act aloof, those below that status couldn’t afford to. Priests were human, too. Becoming a priest required not only talent and a devout heart—if faith alone sufficed, the temples would be overflowing with people.

Clergy had families and siblings, and who ever said that learning divine magic came free? Those who caught the attention of the gods—the so-called “chosen”—were exceedingly rare, a handful among tens of thousands. Take Ammanata’s clergy, for example: among tens of thousands of servants, only a few are truly favored. The rest must work their way up from humble acolytes.

Divine magic was gentler than arcane spells, and unless the caster was reckless, it was generally easier to master and less likely to backfire. But “easier” was a relative term. Compared to studying arcane magic, the threshold for divine arts was lower, yet it was still supernatural power—not something ordinary people could grasp with ease.

Upon receiving the holy water, Haborvik was moved to tears, pledging his unwavering loyalty to Bourne on the spot, vowing to follow wherever he led, as though he wished to bare his heart for all to see.

Lisper, standing by, found his display nauseating, nearly unbearable to watch; she felt an urge to kick him then and there, and it was only Bourne who managed to restrain the forester’s excessive theatrics.

Bourne then explained his purpose for this trip to Haborvik.

The forester pondered for some time before asking, “Boss, are you talking about the middlemen who deal in trading materials?”

“Yes, the middlemen,” Bourne said with a hint of distaste. “And stop calling me ‘boss’—someone might think I’m some kind of gang leader. Hmm… call me ‘master’ instead. It has a better ring to it.”

The forester didn’t quite understand his new master’s tastes, but since he had thrown his lot in with Bourne, he would do as he was told.

“All right, master!” the forester replied obediently. “The underground black market in the east district has been pretty chaotic lately. Those middlemen never stay put, and there aren’t many who could handle a batch of cursed stones like that. Why don’t we go take a look and see if we can find any useful leads?”

“Let’s do that,” Bourne nodded.

When the three of them re-entered the black market, the usual bustling, lively scene was gone. The streets on either side felt wider, with only a handful of vendors remaining. The few passersby hurried along, and even when deals were made, they were concluded in a matter of minutes.

A faint tang of blood hung in the air, and, according to the chip’s analysis, the evil presence here was at least ten times stronger than outside. Many people, much like those in the Lehmann Trading Company before, were already tainted by corruption; the slightest spark of negative emotion might push them over the edge into depravity.

With a sweeping glance, Bourne noted that vendors selling holy water and defensive magic scrolls were the most common, and their prices were outrageously high—often a hundred or two gold coins at minimum!

The same holy water Bourne had purchased cheaply at the temple could easily fetch over a hundred gold coins here, with a resale profit margin of at least tenfold.

Led by the forester, Bourne and Lisper visited several stalls before Bourne stopped in front of a deserted stand.

“Who owns this spot?” Bourne asked.

“This guy’s called Skinny Monkey—he’s a fairly well-known middleman in the underground market. Judging by the dust, he hasn’t been here for several days. I wonder if something’s happened to him,” the forester replied, brushing his hand over the layer of dust with some concern. He didn’t want to mess up his first job for his new master.

“Bourne, is this the one?” Lisper asked, puzzled.

She had no idea how Bourne could tell this was the man who had dealt with Cook.

“Yes, this is the one. Cook traded with him, and since the transaction took place here, there are traces of residual radiation,” Bourne said, turning to her.

Lisper was intrigued by the bluish glow in Bourne’s eyes. When he’d announced his intention to find the middleman who had dealt with Cook, she’d guessed he had some way to track those cursed stones—but she hadn’t expected it to be through his arcane arts.

Sensing her curiosity, Bourne briefly explained his 4th-circle spell, Arcane Eye.

The power of Arcane Eye lay in its ability to reveal magical auras, especially magical traps. With the chip’s assistance, it could detect even more! The world’s energies were complex, composed of numerous elements, and supernatural traits didn’t fade easily. Under the chip’s scan, the radiation left by the cursed stones stood out vividly to Bourne.

Aside from Cook, no one else had sold those stones yet, so the traces left here pointed directly to Cook’s batch.

Different energies appeared as different colors to him, painting the world in a riot of hues. Here, it was worth mentioning the otherworldly equivalent of the internet—the Weave.

In the earliest days of Toril, the world’s energies were wild and chaotic. Back then, apart from the primordial gods, no beings could harness the world’s energy to cast spells.

Then, the magical Weave emerged—the sole bridge for spellcasters to tap into the world’s primal energies.

Every spellcaster who wished to cast magic had to regulate it through the Weave; only then could spells be released.

The existence of the Weave greatly lowered the entry barrier for spellcasters, leading to an explosion of low-level mages who, by meeting the most basic requirements, could channel spells through the Weave.

However, the Weave also imposed constraints on those born with extraordinary intelligence—even prodigies had to work within its rules, casting spells just like any other mage.

This gave rise to the much-maligned concept of spell slots.

Because of spell slots, every caster’s daily number of spells was fixed; each spell had to be channeled through the Weave. Even the greatest archmages were limited by this system, forced to cast only a set number of spells each day.

Thus, spellcasters came to be divided into two categories: slot-casters and mana-bar casters.

As magical civilization advanced, many races developed unique insights into the Weave, and seasoned mages found ways to circumvent its restrictions.

In Bourne’s words, they were hackers in the network, exploiting system loopholes to secretly acquire higher privileges.

With the rise of the Netherese arcanists, the limitations of spell slots were all but erased. When Bourne first became an arcanist, he once drained all his mana before he ran out of spell slots.

To become an arcanist required exceptional talent—spellcasting geniuses who could, through study and innovation, devise new spells and gain greater privileges. Not only did this increase their spell slots, but it also enhanced the power of their magic.

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