Chapter 83

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Chapter 83: 14 Years

Translucent fairies flew into the crowd at the command of Echo Witch, and the fairy dust they released made many things transparent. As Ophelia finally got so drunk she collapsed, many people awkwardly felt their invisible body parts, realizing they were indeed intoxicated.

The Arborist Druid, who was supposed to create soft cushions, had a few drinks, and they mistakenly used the wrong type of cushioning plants. The witches crashed into a pile of giant dandelions, and the fluffy seeds shot up into the sky upon impact, flying everywhere. The fairy dust also landed on these seeds, creating a bunch of invisible nose-ticklers. The grand wedding ended amidst the loud sneezes, like fireworks going off.

"Can you really summon the love god?" Abigail excitedly shook Ophelia the next day, waking her up abruptly.

"Uh?"

Echo Witch was moaning in pain in the hangover hell, unable to remember anything that happened yesterday.

There is indeed a love god in the Heavenly Realm, obviously not the one summoned by the witch. Including Ophelia herself, nobody knows how she summoned the fairies.

Even in the era they existed, these magical creatures, the size of a palm with brilliant wings, were as mysterious as spherical lightning. They enjoyed music and the rhythm of exquisite magic, would trade with some ancient spellcasters, and originally hid the gathering of the Aryan Declaration from the Heavenly Realm and the depths of the abyss using fairy dust they provided. They lived in unknown corners, occasionally exchanging newborns with infants from other clans, for unknown reasons. These exchanged children looked identical to the adopting race in their youth, only changing as they grew up, with the majority eventually disappearing from the society to which the foster family belonged. Jacqueline’s fairy bloodline probably came from this reason.

Little is known about fairies, but they are undoubtedly pure magical creatures that should have disappeared long ago.

Just like the Fairy Lamp, no one knew when they disappeared or when they appeared. It wasn’t until the playful attempt of Echo Witch that people discovered they had reappeared in Aryan.

This news caused a stir among researchers and Echo Witch. The three Echo Witch of Tasmanian abandoned their previous lazy attitude and began frequent summoning attempts. Most summonings ended as inexplicably as in the past, with flashes of fire and wind, but there were also some exceptions. One Echo Witch summoned an Ice Element in the coldest season, which collided with a cold front brewing, causing a blizzard that engulfed several towns. Even when apprehended by the Dragon Knight, she remained cheerful and showed no signs of regret.

"The great man at the beginning of this year had warned about the consequences of endangering public safety, Miss Montrose." Dragon Knight Douglas shrugged helplessly in the snowstorm, tiny icicles hanging from the brim of his hat. "I thought you didn’t like prison environments."

"What would you do if being imprisoned allowed you to see a dragon?" The witch stood on the frost and answered with a question, her voice muffled in the blizzard. "I’ve heard about you, we are two of a kind!"

Douglas laughed, unable and unwilling to argue. Of course, law enforcement duties still needed to be completed.

The accidents of Echo Witch kept happening. The magical creatures they summoned may exist for a short time, but they were definitely real. Aryan indeed encountered magical creatures, although they stayed hidden from people but responded to their calls. Just like magical plants, magical creatures seemed to be slowly coming back to life.

In the fourteenth year after the Peace Declaration, a surprising guess shook Aryan.

After years of research, the Tasmanian Wizard Association came to an incredible conclusion: spellcasters were slowly creating a magic environment by studying vast amounts of data and conducting numerous experiments.

"This red curve represents the magic environment formed by the slime, measured in ‘days’," Miranda explained, pointing at two very similar lines on the magical projection with a light spell. "The blue line shows how a group of wizards affected magic factors per unit area over time, measured in ‘years’. We can see that these trends are very similar."

Tasha suddenly felt like she was sitting in a meeting room, watching a speaker point at a large screen with a laser pointer.

Wizards’ research had been going on for much longer than just ten years.

Why had casting a spell become so difficult? In the ancient spellbooks, creating a light should have been as easy as breathing, but for later wizards, making their fingertips light up served as an important proof of their abilities. Were the legendary wizards who could move mountains and oceans real? Were those heroic epics history or merely stories? Why was magic so scarce in the air, and why was Aryan so cold towards spellcasters, turning the magic they dreamed of into a gift or a curse?

Anyone conscious of being a wizard was seeking answers, searching for more than a decade, even several decades. Three hundred years ago, they proactively investigated the reasons for the loss of magic; two hundred years ago, they anxiously searched for the secret to ensuring the longevity of the wizarding profession. After the Anti-Magic Movement, surviving wizards scattered everywhere delved into old archives, traversed the lands of Aryan in despair, desperately trying to find a glimmer of hope to prove that magic was not slipping away. Although these ancestors did not find it, they recorded environmental changes like meteorologists tracking rainfall and tides each year of their lives.

These fragments were scattered across every corner of Aryan like torn notes from a storm. When the dungeon appeared and Tasha established a sanctuary, wizards and their books came together.

Webster, the heir of Cretaceous College, brought a handwritten copy on a horse-drawn carriage. The librarian finally could openly share the treasure he had collected all his life and discuss with his peers. Bruno, the descendant of the exiled wizard from White Tower, had a tortoiseshell bracelet containing one-fifth of the secret collection of the White Tower Library. This bracelet was made by the Legendary Wizard who refused to join the battle against the dragons. It survived over the years due to its exquisite spells and ordinary materials, unlike other magical storage devices made from parts of magical creatures which disappeared. When the Dark Robed Wizard Miranda arrived, she had nothing but a few adopted apprentice orphans. Within the first month of settling in, she transcribed dozens of notes and spellbooks in silence.

The Wizard Association established a fair points system. Wizards exchanged copies of their own book collections and notes for the borrowing rights of other book collections. The library in the dungeon was absolutely safe and secure. Tasha had the authority to access these copies of books as an incentive for serving as a safe deposit box, enticing wizards to participate in her proposed topics.

Oh, going off track.

In short, after gathering in the dungeon, these wizards who had been seeking answers for centuries had a chance they had not had before. Under the unified organization, the knowledge-hungry researchers finally discovered that while spellcasters consume magical energy when casting spells, in the long run, the magical energy they generate themselves exceeds the total amount consumed.

"Is it still just a guess?" Tasha asked.

"The observation time is not long enough, the sample size is not large enough, and there are some missing references," Miranda said. "Without sufficient evidence to support the inference, I can only call it a guess."

In other words, this guess is now eighty percent certain.

The entire Aryan was astounded.

The reaction from the Empire was very intense, especially among the higher-ups, like throwing water into a scorching hot oil pan. If this conjecture turned out to be true, then the grand Anti-magic War they had fought before was completely wrong.

The authorities have publicly admitted that the Anti-magic Movement was a mistake, but they don’t truly believe that. By saying so, they are just trying to gather wizards again to fix the Source of Magic. No one will regret this, just like they never regretted every major battle in the history of the Aryan Empire. Those battles ultimately made the empire the sole ruler, placing humans at the top of the world, even though there was a cost involved.

However, if the wizards’ assumptions are correct…

Then, the Anti-magic War is like pushing Aryan further to the edge of the cliff.

Does the Empire really not notice the decline in the magic environment?

Common people may not notice. As most factories close one by one due to energy shortages, magic technology retreats to the military and the capital city, no longer part of most people’s lives; unemployed workers return home, picking up tools again, and for most people, learning to read and write is no longer worthwhile, leading to a decline in literacy rates, with history forgotten and only found in history books. The progress of technology and industrial civilization requires collective efforts, while decline only needs time, and most commoners are not clear on what magic truly is.

However, magic technology still dominates in the heart of Aryan.

The wealthy and the influential still benefit from the convenience brought by magic technology, so they at least know about magic technology and its energy source. The upper class understands what the Source of Magic is, hearing reports on core energy consumption rates during annual meetings, with losses gradually increasing each year.

Wise individuals know that some things are slowly getting worse, but in the past, they couldn’t find a way to address these issues, and they were also in a very comfortable environment, with few willing to tackle problems that might arise hundreds of years later. It’s like how leaders are more concerned about this year’s financial situation than thinking about global warming.

And then the dungeon appeared, stood firm, destroyed the Source of Magic, and created the current situation of confrontation between the two sides.

Tasha was studying the empire, and the empire was studying Tasha. They both discovered a positive relationship between the magic environment and the number of Professionals. They researched the reasons for the continuous supply of Magic Stones and the relationship between magic power and the rate of source repair. The invisible ghost of the "magic environment" was creating an increasing impact, and the empire could not ignore it.

Not long ago, the research institute of the empire also found similar signs, many research results coincided with the speculations made public by Tasmanian.

The awaited commotion arrived in the next month.

At the Nightfall Line, the "non-existent window" was always open, despite the fluctuating traffic with the changing temperature of the relationship between both sides. In the early next month, an empire diplomat arrived from that place where only merchants and goods passed through.

After a month of haggling, the "non-existent cooperation" was finalized.

On the vacant land near the Nightfall Line, an "non-existent Mage Tower" was built, spanning across the defense lines, with the position and proportion negotiated carefully by both diplomats. This borderless Mage Tower was rapidly built under the efforts of both sides, with tight security. Documents from both sides were transported here, and their spellcasters and researchers came to the tower.

"Uncle Edwin!"

"Abigail?"

The Flame Witch rushed towards a member of the empire’s wizard at their first meeting, almost provoking the empire soldiers to attack. The middle-aged wizard with golden wire glasses and a white coat joyfully embraced his niece, almost falling back due to her force. The homebound wizard looked frail and weak as before, while Abigail, who had eaten well and slept soundly over the years, wearing sharp high heels, was a head taller than her uncle—she didn’t rush into his arms but pressed him into a hug. Stepping back a bit, Abigail exclaimed in surprise, "You’ve gotten shorter, Uncle Edwin!"

"You have grown up." Edwin smiled, took off his glasses, and used his finger to wipe away the tears from Abigail’s eyes. "Abigail is a big girl now, Wood will be very happy."

"After finishing this, I’m going to see him! Since we can meet, the day to see Dad is surely not far away!" Abigail said optimistically, excited like a bird in the morning. "Oh, so many things have happened! When we have time later, I will tell you everything!"

Edwin still couldn’t say anything, he just nodded and touched the other person’s head, who was taller than himself. He said, "Yes, we will."

The researchers from the Empire and from Tasmanian presented a vivid and interesting contrast.

The Empire researchers, wearing identical white coats, looked in surprise at their future collaborators. The witches, each with a different posture, dressed in what they considered their most beautiful attire. The Plague Witch, with ghostly makeup, thought this was her style; the Druids still wore their natural-style clothing, resembling the forest. Out of respect for their collaborators, some of the exceptionally talented Shape-shifter Druids who preferred a more primitive style at least put on clothes. The wizards loved various types of robes, with white, black, and grey robes indicating their respective traditions.

——Only these three colors have meaning; Wild Wizards can choose any color beyond that, so the pink robe on a male wizard and the rainbow lace trim on a female wizard’s robe only reflect their personal tastes.

Clothing is just a trivial external expression; in the research on this matter, each side has its advantages. Joining forces, Tasha envied the collection of books in the Grand Library and the talent resources of the Empire for a long time.

The dungeon casters have greater freedom, so they can come up with far-fetched guesses. Some are a waste of time, while others lead to important progress. The Empire can provide a large number of high-level assistants, these academy-trained individuals can minimize the time wasted on repeated discussions.

The books on the side of the dungeons are the private collections of the casters, focused on specific topics. The books in the forbidden section of the Grand Library excel in quantity, with the Empire’s rich heritage, they destroyed and collected a large number of achievements from civilizations during wars. Researchers from both sides dove headfirst into the sea of books brought by the other side, and after the bosses of both sides finished their game of chess, the researchers were just researchers.

The torn notes gathered here in the Mage Tower, scattered pieces were thrown in, time took away some fragments, and also made up for some.

"Tidal Power Theory, Philip G. Ulysses, missing the second half, did I just see…"

"Here!"

"No, the data in this unnamed record can already refute Philip’s speculation of magical density function."

"This note signed by Sharon, ‘Abyss Source of Magic,’ can fill the gap in the Tidal Power Theory."

"But is this ‘Heavenly Realm Source of Magic’ the same? Has anyone found an explanation that can refute both?"

"I believe both Source of Magic records were completed in the year XXX AD, considering the possibility of both during the same magical cold period…"

"I have a record from the same era here…"

"Based on the existing data, this part should already be verifiable…"

"Found it! If we explain the singularity and unity of the Aryan Magic Plate movement…"

The wizards argued with logic, while scribes from the empire quickly organized their theories, compiling them in alphabetical order. Tasha recorded them in her mind, her powerful memory and computational abilities serving as a search engine for hundreds of researchers. There were far more wizards participating in this grand event than there were people present. Over the centuries, lonely wizards who had asked questions without receiving answers were present, their spirits eventually condensed in the records they left behind, transcending time and space.

Speculation and evidence may be separated by a continent, questions and answers may be decades apart, but all difficult journeys have an end. The Pathfinders picked up pieces of the arc that eventually formed a circle here.

Mavis, a half-elf deemed a spellcaster only because of the magic wand from the sacred tree, quickly gave up on research after just half a day of participation. She slipped into the kitchen with other staff, preparing food to feed the scientists.

Wizards like Miranda who worked tirelessly typically disregarded food, considering mealtime a waste of time. They usually sustained themselves with Karlo, a popular energy drink in Tasmania made with milk, similar to how coffee or Red Bull addicts behave. However, when Mavis developed the "Lazy and Workaholic’s Must-Have Delicious Mixed Cake 2.0," which was nutritionally balanced, could be eaten in a minute without leaving any crumbs, and required no heating or washing up, the reaction was overwhelmingly positive from wizards themselves to apprentices nearly made ill by these demanding wizard bosses.

The half-elf cook carried her improved "Nutritious and Delicious Mixed Cake 3.0 for Mental Workers" into the upper levels of the Mage Tower. Surrounding her were the sounds of pages flipping through books, just as it had been when she left. The library section was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop, with people voraciously reading everywhere.

White robe wizards and black robe wizards sat together at the same table, with a white lab coat presumably belonging to someone in between them. While some wizards still refused to sit next to those in specific robes, at most, it was more of a passive-aggressive stance taken at the same table. When there wasn’t enough space, some would reluctantly sit together, wrinkling their noses. A white robe wizard who grabbed a book hesitated between two remaining seats, ultimately choosing to sit next to the black robe wizard rather than the Wild Wizard in a rainbow-colored, eye-catching suit at the adjacent table.

Mavis placed the cake next to them—everyone knew that book-reading wizards were often oblivious to food sitting just a few meters away on the table, even when they were quite hungry. Some didn’t notice Mavis’s arrival (hopefully they’d remember to eat later), while others nodded in thanks.

Beyond a corridor was the discussion area, where three soundproof glass doors led to a bustling meeting room. It was easier for spellcasters from different schools to argue, but most arguments were focused on matters rather than personal attacks. Even when a gray-robed wizard used necromancy books as evidence, Druids simply furrowed their brows. Disputes among wizards were always intellectually rich, with every curse having a relevant source. Quick-fingered recorders constantly added and removed entries, with apprentices from Tasmania and research assistants from the empire exchanging glances, forming new friendships born out of revolutionary discussions.

Mavis put a whole tray on the meeting table, refilling the empty cups with Karlo.

The next level was the testing ground, where spellcasters who were not very interested in research were mostly concentrated. When Mavis came to this level, she didn’t have to bring those fast food cupcakes.

As soon as the half-elf opened the door to the testing ground, there was a huge cheer. When Mavis walked in, she was warmly welcomed. The witches who served as the magical control group jumped up, as if responding to a hungry stray cat. Most of them found the research work that relied on rational operation incredibly boring. To make them cooperate, Tasha had to offer them money, delicious food, and vacations. Birds chirped around Mavis, as the charm of these half-magical creatures burst out due to a sumptuous meal, causing even the assistants’ pens to drop to the ground.

Edwin was the only formal wizard who dropped his pen. He was awakened by the sound of the pen hitting the ground, quickly retracted his gaze, and shamefully glanced at his nearby collaborator. Miranda had a chilling smile at the corner of her mouth, and she looked over the stunned apprentices one by one. Edwin noticed her slowly rubbing her fingers, a prelude to several tormenting spells. He gulped nervously and took a small step back quietly.

The priests murmured phrases like "May Saro God bless us," paying no attention to the witches. Druids from afar were walking towards them, casting quite indifferent gazes towards the witches. A suburban wolf raced towards them, sticking out a long tongue – spirit beasts were not allowed, which Shape-shifter Druid couldn’t resist. The wolf didn’t even glance at the witches, its eyes fixated on the roast meat on the platter. It was uncertain whether its willpower was strong or weak.

Surrounded by the crowd, Mavis started to laugh.

"I have never seen such a scene before," she exclaimed. "When was the last time everyone gathered like this? Probably not since the Aryan Declaration period. Hmm, I can finally imagine the scene when my grandparents met."

Tasmanian’s public speculation was later confirmed.

Do spellcasters slowly build magic environments?

Yes, and even more.

To be precise, people and beings with extraordinary powers can create a magical environment.

The magical abilities of magical races consume magic power, and holders of extraordinary powers (all professionals, not just spellcasters) consume plane magic when using skills. However, at the same time, they also create a magical environment. The impact of each increase in professionals on the environment increases exponentially.

Let me put it this way, extraordinary individuals are like plants, they consume oxygen through respiration and produce oxygen through photosynthesis. Scholars in the past conducted experiments at night, so they only saw trees consuming a lot of oxygen, but they did not realize that they produce more oxygen during the day than they consume.

People of the Empire a hundred years ago, in their efforts to save Aryan, ultimately accelerated the decline of the plane.