Wizard from The Modern

"Never mind, never mind." The young maid waved her hand dismissively, her expression one of clear distaste as she addressed Tuku. "You may as well take it back for yourself to eat; as for what Master shall consume, fret not! I have delectable honey biscuits with me, a hundred times better than your wolf leg!"

If anyone else had uttered such words, Tuku would have exploded with rage. Yet, he found it impossible to get angry with the twelve-year-old maid. Hearing Lucy's remarks, he merely shrugged with a hint of resignation, then turned back in the direction he came from, tearing into the wolf leg with large bites.

In an instant, the gazes of many returned to him, their scrutiny heavier than before.

Tuku, undaunted and defiantly returning their stares, bellowed, "What are you looking at? Eat your own meat! This wolf leg in my hand was given to me by Master Richard because he would not touch it!"

"Hey!" The members of the First Guard laughed, a mix of jest and disbelief, coupled with a fair amount of mockery, and then returned to their own wolf meat and bread.

Meanwhile, on a distant rock, Richard remained entirely oblivious to the commotion, wholly absorbed in his research.

He was focused on the task of crafting a way for the Explosion Fireball to achieve delayed release, thereby amplifying its destructive power through simultaneous detonations. This was not an altogether absurd hypothesis; should he succeed, the rewards would be great, yet the difficulty was correspondingly high.

Although Richard had nearly clarified all his thoughts, he was still hesitant to declare that he could solve it with absolute certainty.

The quill, previously scratching at the papyrus, slowed as Richard gazed at the dense text sprawling before him, lost in contemplation.

The key to overcoming his challenge lay in the simultaneous release of multiple Explosion Fireballs. This could be succinctly explained as the act of casting several spells at once.

To achieve this, one must ensure that several streams of mana flowed concurrently from the mana core within one's body.

Every stream of mana would traverse its allocated pathways in the body, requiring a specific number of loops before reaching the required activation state to unleash its damage.

During this process, the pathways of mana retention lacked stringent requirements; any natural channel within the human body would suffice. For instance, blood vessels, meridians, or even neural pathways. Such pathways existed in thousands within the body, yet only a few could facilitate rapid mana flow.

According to records in the Human Skin Diary, the most commonly utilized mana pathways were the major arteries and veins of the circulatory system—the "main roads" of blood flow.

Now, Richard's conundrum was whether he could utilize the limited pathways of the blood circulation system, supplemented by a few "branches," to enable multiple streams of mana to flow concurrently and reach their required activation state at nearly the same instant.

If there was only a single stream of mana, then the solution was simple; two streams posed a challenge, while three or more became exceedingly intricate. As the number of mana streams increased, the difficulties rose exponentially.

Furthermore, increasing the number of streams not only complicated the movement of the mana but also taxed the brain's processing capacity. Each stream required precise control, and losing that control could lead to catastrophic failures, resulting in backlashes.

Ordinary individuals might manage to multitask, capable of controlling one or two streams of mana, but the prospect of managing a dozen or more simultaneously seemed almost insurmountable. After all, the human brain is not a computer; it is difficult to process multiple tasks concurrently.

Yet… nothing is absolute.

Richard's eyes narrowed, his fingers lightly tapping the surface of the papyrus scroll. Through the thin paper, he felt the coldness of the stone beneath, and a thought began to take shape:

Perhaps controlling more than ten streams of mana simultaneously proved challenging, with the brain unable to meet such computational demands. However, what if these ten or more streams of mana could be integrated? Rather than viewing their movements as a dozen distinct entities, he could conceive them as a unified whole.

While he might not achieve precise control over the movement of each stream at every moment, what if, instead, he established specific points for the streams to reach at set intervals? This way, he would simply need to ensure that the streams reached their designated points at the designated times, allowing the interim movements to be negligible.

Although disregarding these interim movements carried the risk of errors which could jeopardize the entire system, if the intervals could be kept exceedingly short, then the probability of danger could be significantly minimized. And as long as that probability remained below one percent, there was ample reason to take the risk.

In essence, this methodology could transform a complex system of movement into a model executed strictly to specifications—essentially, a mana model. As long as the established mana model remained sound, successful spellcasting would follow.

With this revelation, Richard halted his tapping on the papyrus, his eyes shining with clarity. In that moment, he began to estimate the computational demands needed to formulate this mana model, realizing he would need to conduct tests on thousands of possibilities.

Thus…

Richard inhaled deeply, raising his gaze to the profound night sky before looking down again, hastening the speed of his quill to begin feverishly calculating.

Meanwhile, Lucy, the young maid, produced her honey biscuits for a third time, glancing at the oblivious Richard. Shaking her head in resignation, she tucked the biscuits away again. She then rested her chin on her hands, puffing her cheeks and gazing intently at Richard, widening her eyes and making silly faces.

Yet Richard remained undisturbed, continuing his calculations.

"Scratch scratch scratch…"

The night passed in silence.

Before long, dawn arrived.

As he mounted his horse in the morning, leading the assembled First Guard, Richard concluded that his eight hundred sixty-third attempt at building a mana model had failed, as it could not enable simultaneous running and release of multiple mana streams.

With a heavy sigh, Richard lifted his gaze, turning to observe the caravan encampment by the roadside.

To his surprise, he noted that the caravan performed well today; they did not languish about as they had the previous day. While they still had not departed at daybreak, they were indeed moving much faster than before.

The reason for this improvement was due to Mular's efforts.

The prior evening, he had meticulously instructed his subordinates to set out half an hour earlier today and had made it a point to keep this information from Melissa.

At the break of dawn, Mular rose first, then proceeded to rouse his companions, urging them to begin packing up their things and dismantling their tents.

Once everything was near completion, Mular took a deep breath and, carrying water for washing, hurried to Melissa's tent, calling out, "Miss Melissa, it is time to rise! Everyone has nearly finished packing and is ready to depart. If you do not rise soon, we shall be late!"

"Huh? What?" Melissa exclaimed, emerging from the tent. At first, she glanced at the, indeed, organized encampment, then turned to the eastern sky.

Her brow furrowed deeply, and the next moment she snapped at Mular, "Uncle Mular, have you lost your wits? The sun has yet to rise, and the sky isn't fully lit; how can we be leaving so early? Aah… Hoo!" Before she could finish her complaint, a large yawn escaped her lips.

Rather than be offended, Mular simply shrugged. "Miss Melissa, you may not realize, but today it is overcast and hence, there is no sun. Typically, we depart at this hour; it is not much earlier than usual."

"Is that so?" Melissa said, half-convinced. "Then why do I feel so drowsy? I feel barely awake at all." With that, she yawned again.

"Perhaps it's due to you having stayed up late last night," Mular suggested, trying to explain.

Melissa paused at this, recalling the events of the previous night.