Trial and Error

◆ A Light to Protect My Oath

The Royal Magic Academy was well-equipped for both scholars and warriors.

While I diligently studied military theory in the knight’s course, I spent just as much time at the Alchemical Tower.

My magic, as it turned out, was more closely aligned with alchemy than traditional spellcasting.

This was the conclusion reached by my instructors—
If I were to hone my talents, I needed practical experience.

I agreed.

To understand my limits, to test what was possible, to find what could be achieved—

All of it would refine my control over magic and advance my studies.

Thus, I dedicated countless hours within the Alchemical Tower.

I started with simple experiments.

Attempting to imbue a sword with magic, I sought to create an artificial spell—one that could be activated by anyone.

A promising idea.

But it had a fatal flaw.

Even the simplest activation required the magic reserves of a Viscount’s lineage.

This was useless to the soldiers of the frontier.
The Source of Power—Magic Stones

Magic.

The mysterious force that dictated one’s fate in this world.

In my past life’s understanding, magic could be compared to energy—

An invisible force condensed into a solid state.

Humans could not naturally store energy within objects.

And yet, magic tools existed.

Despite their lack of magic, commoners could still use them.

Why?

What made this possible?

The answer lay in magic stones.

The remains of defeated monsters were not wasted.

In the frontier, where resources were scarce, nothing was left to rot.

Even the flesh of monsters found its way onto dinner tables.

Yet the true prize was found within their bodies—

Hardened cores, embedded deep in their flesh.

Stones that stored latent magic.

In the capital, scholars barely understood their significance.

But in the borderlands, where hunters had spent generations dissecting monsters, the truth was well known.

These stones contained stored magic.

And when placed within a magic tool, they became a substitute for personal mana.

This was how commoners could use magic tools—

By drawing power from these stones, rather than their own bodies.
A Wasted Resource

Magic stones came in various forms.

Some were large, perfectly clear, and held vast reserves of pure magic.

Others were small, cloudy, and contained only a fraction of their former power.

The clear stones were incredibly rare, requiring entire battalions to slay the monsters that produced them.

These were sold to jewelers in the capital, fetching exorbitant prices.

Yet the profits never reached the knights of the frontier who risked their lives to obtain them.

What remained in our hands?

The useless remnants.

The cloudy, fragmented stones—discarded as worthless debris.

Yet these “useless” stones were the foundation of all magic tools.

Unlike their pure counterparts, these clouded stones released their magic easily.

For commoners, this was a blessing—

For alchemy, it was a revelation.

Yet, despite their potential, they held little value in trade.

The cost of transportation alone exceeded their worth.

Most ended up as burdens to be removed from the frontier.

And for good reason.

Magic stones, when left in large quantities, naturally attracted monsters.

To prevent this, we shipped them to the capital for disposal.

The kingdom’s nobility viewed this as charity—a way to assist the magic-deprived commoners by providing cheap magic fuel.

But in reality—

We needed to get rid of them before they drew more monsters to our lands.
The Forbidden Crystal

When a magic stone was completely drained, it became a transparent crystal—

A “Magic Crystal.”

Beautiful, but worthless.

Some were used for cheap jewelry.

Most were simply discarded.

The church strictly forbade their widespread use.

After all, they were born from monsters.

As a result, magic crystals were dumped in massive piles outside the city, forming what appeared to be glittering mountains of glass.

Some cities used them for road construction, embedding them into pavement to reflect the glow of street lamps.

A few tourist cities even capitalized on their beauty, turning their streets into glowing paths that attracted visitors from across the kingdom.

But that was an exception.

For the most part, both magic stones and magic crystals remained wasted potential.
A New Idea—A Substitute for Gunpowder?

What if I could use them?

This world lacked gunpowder.

But magic stones stored energy—

Could they be harnessed as an explosive force?

I began a new line of experimentation at the Alchemical Tower.

First, I tried imprinting a fire spell onto a discarded magic stone.

I designed it so that a small shock would trigger the spell.

The result?

A tiny flame, burning weakly until the stored magic ran out.

Not good enough.

Next, I engraved an explosion spell onto the stone.

It produced a loud noise—

But not enough force to be of any real use.

Useless.

I tried water magic—but the resulting spray was pitiful.

Lightning magic?

A harmless static shock.

Then I tried wind magic.

This showed promise.

By rapidly releasing the magic within a stone in the form of compressed air, I could generate a strong gust of wind.

It wasn’t much—

But it was a start.

With enough refinement, I could potentially create a propulsion system—

Something that could serve as a foundation for new weaponry.

I had not yet created gunpowder, but I had found a path forward.

For the first time—

I saw a light in the darkness.