Chapter Six: The Magical Barrier

He walked to the corner of the wall, bent down, and on the ground began to sketch out a series of strange patterns with his finger. After much rubbing and drawing, he finally set to work in earnest. He took out a water brush, dipped it into a potion he had just concocted, and instantly, the snowy white tip was saturated with a pale blue liquid.

The peculiar lines he had traced earlier actually formed a defensive barrier, but considering his current situation, he made several modifications, shrinking the area of the barrier by several times, thereby greatly reducing the magic required to sustain it. Altering a barrier was, for most people, an incredibly difficult task. From their inception, these types of barriers had been revised and perfected by countless hands, honed to such a degree that many believed them to be flawless and unchangeable. But for Ver, this was not a challenge. In his philosophy, the potential of magic was limitless. Take the defensive barrier, for instance—people always sought to enhance its strength by pouring in ever more magic, heedless of the massive drain this entailed, while completely overlooking the randomness and practicality inherent to magic. There were myriad forms of magic, each with diverse applications. What Ver sought was to make the defensive barrier more practical, reducing the magic it consumed without diminishing its defensive strength, thus enabling it to adapt to a wide range of environments.

The magical barrier he was crafting at this moment, for example, used a series of wind-elemental alchemical potions. Through intricate combinations of magical runes, it gathered the element of wind into a simple shield. Its source of power was no longer the single-use, soon-to-be-exhausted magic cores, but the mage himself.

Gradually, pale blue magical lines emerged before Ver’s eyes. When he traced the final stroke, he let out a long breath of relief, wiped the sweat from his brow, set aside the brush, and meticulously inspected the entire barrier until he was satisfied.

Lifting his head, he glanced ahead. Not far away, Wei Ling was already busy with her own matters, sorting various magical plants by their uses and properties with remarkable speed. Every so often, she would cast a seemingly casual glance in his direction before quickly turning away.

A soft chuckle escaped Ver’s lips. He then refocused his attention, sat within the barrier, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.

Meditation, for a mage, was the process of sensing the surrounding magical elements in the environment and absorbing them to replenish one’s own power. There were generally three stages of meditation. The first, elementary meditation, involved intense concentration, serving as a foundational exercise to strengthen one’s mind. The second stage, intermediate meditation, built upon the first, allowing deeper focus and the ability to sense and communicate with the various magical elements around oneself. The final stage was advanced meditation, wherein, through an even greater depth of concentration, a mage could not only perceive the elements but also absorb and store them within the sea of consciousness as usable magical power.

Without doubt, Ver was deep within the advanced state of meditation. With his eyes gently closed, his breathing formed a perfect rhythm, and the magical elements around him began to stir in response. In his sea of consciousness, which had been empty before, faint wisps of mist-like magic gradually began to appear.

To completely fill the vast sea of consciousness would obviously require far more magic than this, but Ver was in no hurry. He progressed steadily, step by step, and by the time he emerged from meditation, night had already fallen.

Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find Wei Ling staring at him with her large, beautiful eyes, filled with curiosity.

“What’s wrong?” Ver glanced at her, noticing that she was holding a set of clothes and some food.

Caught off guard by his sudden question, Wei Ling seemed startled. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, her voice tinged with amazement, “Were you just meditating? And that thing you drew earlier—was that a magic array?”

Ver nodded in affirmation. Once she was sure she had heard correctly, a strange light flickered in Wei Ling’s eyes: a mixture of joy, excitement, and perhaps even fanaticism.

Ver realized that something was off about her expression. If before, when she discovered his deception with the potion, her gaze had been filled with a desire to pounce and tear him apart, now her eyes seemed to say she wanted to devour him whole.

It was an expression remarkably similar to the one he himself had worn when he first met his mentor and obtained the promise of magical instruction.

Yet, in short order, Wei Ling drew a deep breath to compose herself. “So, that means you weren’t just making up stories about falling from the sky? Only wind mages can fly, so you’re a wind mage, aren’t you?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Ver replied. He practiced seven schools of magic, wind included, so this was not a lie.

“Then, who is your mentor in the Empire? Is it Tris Myer Proxis? Or Macro Jack?” Wei Ling’s eyes sparkled eagerly as she pressed him for an answer.

“Tris Myer Proxis? Macro Jack? Who are they?” Ver was puzzled by her excitement, suspecting these must be famous figures on the continent. He racked his memory for renowned names but still could not recall anyone matching those she mentioned.

“How can that be? You’re a mage, yet you don’t know Tris Myer Proxis or Macro Jack?!” Wei Ling’s face darkened in anger. She was convinced Ver was simply too embarrassed to reveal his magical background before a soul master. Gritting her teeth with frustration, she threw the clothes and food aside and turned on her heel, storming away.