Chapter 2

  Arlin watched the clones who were still moving about the headmaster's office. Finally, after waiting for an hour, he gathered himself, put on a rather old-looking coat, and left the room.

  Before leaving, he took one of the clones with him, leaving the rest behind. He needed to continue his experiments, as the clones would clearly form the basis of his power going forward.

  As they left the room and went downstairs, he glanced at the clone beside him — its appearance would look very strange to others. So he gave a silent mental command, and the clone sank into the ground, merging with his shadow.

  "I need to prepare some kind of disguise for them so they can move around without drawing attention," he thought.

  Looking around, the building appeared quite old. However, that was only from the perspective of someone from 21st-century Earth. Considering where he was now, this architecture fit the surroundings perfectly.

  Continuing along the empty corridors, he finally emerged onto a small training ground.

  After Arlin's father had died, several teachers had left the academy. Their only tie to this place had been their loyalty to his father — and when he passed, there was nothing left to hold them here.

  The small and weak academy had an almost invisible presence in the region. The number of servants remaining was already few, and their departure made things considerably more inconvenient.

  And so they had said their goodbyes and left. Although the previous Arlin had wanted to persuade them to stay, they were clearly resolute. The grief and helplessness that followed had driven him toward a dangerous gamble — magic with only a small chance of improving his power — and that decision had led directly to his death.

  "There are only a few servants left in the academy. On top of that, there are very few magic crystals remaining, which limits how many clones I can use. For now though, I need to first assess my own abilities," he thought.

  He sat down on what passed for a training ground — in truth, it was little more than an open area at the center of the academy, with sand underfoot and a few battered dummies standing ahead.

  "First I need to understand why the magic isn't working. Physically, this body is weak. But I can feel the mana inside it, and the sensation matches the memories exactly."

  He stretched out his hand and tried again.

  From the inherited memories, he knew there were several types of magic in this world.

  The first was circle magic — the most widespread form of spellcasting in Eldoria. A mage would channel mana from within their body and use it to construct a magical circle in their mind, each circle built from specific formations corresponding to a desired effect. The diversity of possible circles existed, but each required significant mental effort: wind circles, fire circles, simple barriers, detection spells. However, these circles were limited in scope. Each circle could only produce its intended effect — a fire circle created fire, nothing more. Attempting to combine circles was theoretically possible, but practically difficult and unstable. The circles were also slow to cast — requiring several seconds of concentration before the magic would manifest.

  The second type was what some called pagan magic, or the languages of the world. In this world, there existed special languages known as the tongues of the gods. One of the better-known examples was the language of dragons, which operated on entirely different principles from ordinary magic. Spells spoken in these languages followed similar categories as circle magic in terms of effects, but their power was substantially greater and their casting was far more intuitive.

  However, few mages had ever mastered the dragon tongue, and the other divine languages were similarly rare. More significantly, the study of any god-language was considered taboo throughout all of Eldoria. This stemmed from an event in the year 1369 — nearly 350 years ago — when a catastrophe struck, eventually triggering a large-scale war against enormous ancient creatures. When the cause was finally traced, it led back to a group of adventurers who had wandered into a deep border region and stumbled upon what scholars later called the "words of God." Out of curiosity, they had tried to read them aloud.

  After the war, when the union of races learned the truth, they enacted a universal ban on the study of divine languages.

  The third type was unique magic — abilities that occasionally awakened spontaneously within certain individuals. These powers varied wildly in nature, but shared one common trait: they were extremely intuitive to use. The drawback was that they required long periods of development before becoming truly powerful.

  The fourth type remained largely theoretical. From fragments in the academy's records, Arlin had noticed references to something called "rune magic" or "the path of the artificer." The descriptions were vague and contradictory, and most texts dismissed it as obsolete or impossible. Few practitioners were recorded as ever attempting it. But the concept intrigued him — direct manipulation of magical force itself, without the mediation of circles or divine tongues.

  "So the previous Arlin used circle magic. But why can't I do the same?"

  The process was: channel mana from within the body, mentally construct the magical circle, then push the mana through the completed formation while holding the exit point in mind.

  When he had tried in the office, he had been attempting to produce a light wind — one of the simplest circles in existence.

  He had failed. So now, focusing again on the mana within his body, he began guiding it carefully toward his hand. He held the wind circle in his mind — a straightforward formation, requiring only that the mana flow through it cleanly and connect to the intended exit point.

  The hardest part was the latter step. Maintaining a clear mental image of the circle while simultaneously managing the flow of mana demanded a degree of dual concentration that was easy to recall from memory and considerably harder to actually perform.

  He also knew the risks. For those with weak spiritual power, a lapse in concentration could cause the magic to discharge inward — triggering inside the caster's body without an exit point. In the worst cases, a practitioner could be left in a vegetative state from the backlash alone.

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  "I can hold the circle clearly, and the mana is under my control. So why isn't it releasing?"

  He attempted it again. The mana moved sluggishly, reaching the target location in his body but taking noticeably longer than the memories suggested it should. The magic still refused to fully release.

  "Perhaps this is because I only recently took over this body. The mana channels are unfamiliar, slower to respond."

  As he considered this, another thought surfaced. He glanced around, then called the clone out from his shadow. It gradually took form beside him.

  "The clones are part of me — but they were created from magic crystals, not from my direct power. That means they should have their own independent magical capacity."

  He began with the simplest test: physical strength. He directed the clone to strike one of the nearby training dummies with full force, then did the same himself. He felt both impacts through his shared awareness — and the result was unambiguous. The clone hit with exactly the same force. No difference at all.

  "So physically, they are equal to me."

  He moved on to the magical test. He directed the clone to gather as much mana as it could manage and hold it steady. Simultaneously, he did the same in his own body.

  The difference was immediate and stark. His own mana pool was substantial — slow to move given how recently he had taken over the body, but clearly large. The clone's mana, by contrast, was a fraction of that.

  He assessed carefully. The clone could draw upon roughly 15-20 percent of the total magical capacity he sensed in himself.

  "That's... considerably less."

  But then he considered the mechanism. The clone had been created using a single magic crystal. That crystal contained a fixed amount of magical energy — the energy that had formed the clone's body in the first place. The clone could draw upon that reserve, but it was fundamentally limited by the crystal's capacity.

  He thought back to his experiments in the office. When he had created the first clone with a single crystal, and then later created six more by distributing six additional crystals among them, each clone received its own energy source.

  "So the clones aren't drawing from me. Each one has its own independent magical reserve, based on the crystal used to create it. But is it possible to gather all this energy into one?"

  He mentally imagined the energy of all the clones gathering into one, and he seemed to sense it, although there's a certain limit: the clone he'd gathered steel equivalent to 90% of his magical energy.

  But for the other clones, it dropped to 5-10%. That is, it couldn't be reduced any further.

  He directed the clone to attempt the wind circle.

  It worked immediately.

  The clone channeled its mana, constructed the circle with clean precision, and released a sharp gust from its hand. Arlin felt every step of the process as clearly as if it had happened in his own body.

  "So even the experience transfers. Everything transfers."

  He stood still and directed the clone to work through several circle formations he knew — keeping to the simpler ones. He wasn't willing to risk the clone in overly complex magic when he still didn't fully understand the limits of its capacity.

  While Arlin stood and observed, the clone worked steadily through the primary formations, its mana slowly depleting as it practiced each one multiple times. More knowledge continued to arrive from the clones still reading in the office — some building on what he had inherited from the previous owner, some entirely new.

  Then came the sound of soft footsteps approaching from the corridor.

  Arlin immediately called the clone back into his shadow and waited.

  A man appeared — roughly 50 to 60 years of age, with neatly styled gray hair and an old-fashioned but well-kept suit. His posture and gait were composed and unhurried, carrying the quiet ease of someone in good physical condition.

  Recognition came through the inherited memories. This was Kaldryn — his butler, a man who had served the previous director's father for many years.

  "Sir, I can see your mood has improved. I came to let you know that dinner is ready."

  Kaldryn looked at him with visible relief as he spoke.

  Arlin steadied himself. He was still cautious, but the fact that this man had served the original family for so long counted for something.

  "Alright. Let's go."

  He moved forward. Kaldryn fell into step behind him, then spoke again after a moment.

  "Sir, seeing that you seem more settled than yesterday — may I ask what you intend to do going forward?"

  As they walked, Arlin kept a clone moving alongside him in its intangible form, close enough to be called on instantly. But Kaldryn's question was one he had already been thinking about.

  He needed magic stones. More clones meant faster progress — and better protection. But he had already used every stone he possessed.

  Magic stones served many purposes in this world. Beyond their most basic use — supplementing and increasing the body's mana reserves — they were integral to weapon-forging, alchemy, and numerous other disciplines. That broad demand made them difficult to obtain.

  He considered the problem for a moment before speaking.

  "Kaldryn, I need magic stones. How do you think we could obtain them?"

  From the memories, the previous Arlin had received magic stones from his father, but only rarely and in small quantities.

  "Sir... there are several ways. I understand that you want to become stronger — but perhaps you should first give some thought to the state of the academy."

  Kaldryn spoke carefully, and Arlin could see the concern in his expression. He might not be skilled at reading people, but the feeling was clear enough — this man was not indifferent.

  "I am thinking about the academy. But as things stand, after my father's death it has lost all momentum. I need to become stronger first, so that we actually have options."

  Arlin said it plainly. From the memories, he had little idea how to obtain magic stones independently. The knowledge absorbed from the clones had pointed him toward dedicated mining sites — places where natural magic stones formed — but the known deposits near here all belonged to established factions.

  "Sir, as I see it there are three paths: mines, trade, and... less legitimate means. The third speaks for itself. The first refers to natural deposits where magic stones form on their own. As for trade — we could take valuables to the city and exchange them, whether that be rare knowledge, books, weapons, or other items of worth." Kaldryn paused briefly, then added: "Before you decide, however, there is something I should tell you. Your father left you some stones. He instructed me to keep them safe and give them to you when the time came."

  Arlin looked up at that.

  "Sir, I can bring them to you while you dine."

  "Go ahead."

  "Yes, I won't be long."

  Kaldryn quickened his pace and moved ahead. Arlin quietly directed a clone to follow him in its shadow form — not out of strong suspicion, but out of habit.

  A shadow slipped from beneath his feet and merged silently with Kaldryn's as the old man walked on.

  Satisfied that he could still track his movements, Arlin continued toward the dining room.

  "If there are enough stones, my progress will accelerate considerably."

  He opened the system window in his mind. The magic stone counter still read 1. The cost of creating a clone remained unchanged at one stone.

  He closed the window and walked on, eventually reaching the dining room. The architecture here was the same worn but functional style as the rest of the building. Through the window, he could see the green fields beyond the academy's edge.

  "Even the perimeter security is lacking. From what I can see through the window, there isn't even a basic fence out there."

  Inside the dining room were two people — a middle-aged woman and a girl of about twelve or thirteen. From their features, they were clearly mother and daughter. Both moved quickly when they saw him, hurrying to set the table and bring out dishes.

  "I apologize, sir — I didn't know you would arrive so soon."

  The woman bowed her head slightly. Arlin nodded without comment and shifted his attention to the clone's perspective, watching through its eyes as Kaldryn entered his room, opened a small cabinet, and retrieved a bag.

  There was nothing suspicious in his movements. He didn't glance inside the bag, didn't hesitate, didn't look around. Arlin felt the last of his wariness ease slightly.