It is common for prices to differ between cities and rural areas, but the fact that prices can sometimes be higher in the countryside is quite disconcerting due to my previous life.
That said, it’s unavoidable in this era since production and distribution are both lower in rural areas. It could even be said to be a natural reasoning. Even for something as simple as a board, the price fluctuates based on the scale of the forestry industry, the number of workshops, and the volume of distribution in accordance with demand. It’s only natural that good quality items would take root in the countryside, where housing demand is scarce compared to large urban cities.
Ah, if only I had stocked up when I left the Imperial Capital. I didn’t hear that prices could be more than double!
On a sunny winter afternoon, I came to the stable with some planks that I had acquired in place of the dwindling contents of my wallet. I couldn’t dirty the house with my work, after all.
In my hands were a full set of borrowed carpentry tools along with my well-used carving tools. Plus, there was a small ink pot containing some minor craftsmanship.
I was truly astonished. As a child, I had never spent money and didn’t know the prices in the countryside, but everything other than food was way more expensive than in the Imperial Capital. There was a craftsmen’s union; thanks to the Magic Academy’s authority, things that should have been easy to obtain became quite the burden. This was likely going to give me trouble even with magic catalysts like copper oxide.
While I couldn’t do anything about the prices, I had gotten what I needed, so I would refrain from further complaints. Acceptance is an important part of life. Let’s forget about the luxurious world where I could just click and get everything, from daily necessities to hobbies, through a shopping site. I should rather be grateful that I could trade with money.
After finishing up by sketching with charcoal on the planks I had bought, I tried to take out my carving tools…
“Hah!”
“Hyann!?”
I dropped my carving kn*fe, startled by someone blowing air into my ear.
When I covered my ears and turned around, I saw Margit, wearing a mischievous smile. d*mn, that’s another black star against me…
“Thank you for that cute voice.”
“That was dangerous! What if I got hurt?”
“Didn’t we just take precautions before starting work to prevent that?”
So it means I’ve been watched for a while. Indeed, the advantage that the species has makes it hard for humans. We are dull, fragile, and have limits to our night vision. Well, the risk of a back attack is significantly mitigated if Margit accompanies me, so it’s a waste to allocate levels there, so I won’t pursue it further.
“So, what are you planning to make? That pattern seems rather extravagant for furniture.”
“A little prop.”
Experience points are to be used for more important things. Specifically, this box is being used as a catalyst for the <Spatial Transition> skill, which I finally got to <Beginner> level.
As I mentioned before, <Spatial Transition> requires an enormous amount of experience points, and it is indeed expensive. After a year’s worth of stored experience points, I finally raised it to <Beginner> level, allowing for stable transitions of non-living objects.
Even then, there are significant limitations. At best, I can pull out a non-living object weighing less than I can hold, and only one at a time, from a predetermined location. Still, for a world with undeveloped transportation technologies, that’s quite a considerable feat.
I’ve recently been pondering that the reason why <Spatial Transition> technology has become so hard to master might be due to the gods’ intentions. If movement and information transmission became convenient, civilization would leap forward, so the world might be restricting excessive growth as a fail-safe, which is why mastering and activating such skills come with exorbitant costs, or so I hypothesize.
Otherwise, how could something like <Battlefield Sword Technique> require the kind of skill points demanded to allow it into the <Divine Realm> at a <Beginner> level? It feels more like a setup to avoid collapsing various preconditions.
I mean, I get it that the higher the level, the more problematic spells like <Spatial Transition> make sessions harder; every GM surely has memories of struggling with spells where you think, “Oh no, if that spell were to be used, the scenario would be cleared in an instant.”
I’ve had my share of rigged scripts cracking down when a spell that reveals lies shows up in a mystery scenario, or when leading mages use teleportation magic to deliver their convoy during protection scenarios, causing all events to fizzle out… I messed up plenty of things when I was a beginner.
So it’s understandable that a world that isn’t too kind to GMs would eventually decline. It can’t be helped.
Setting aside the harsh realities of the world, I managed to establish the spell for transitioning objects, but the fuel efficiency is utterly terrible. Even though I’ve improved the magic power situation, using it carelessly would leave me depleted in no time.
To solve this, I was trying to create this box.
With encouragement from my childhood friend, who had settled down to watch, I engraved the patterns according to my sketches with my carving kn*fe. I then covered the edges with ink that I had prepared beforehand at a workshop in the Imperial Capital.
This isn’t just any ink; it’s a special ink mixed with several magic potions and “my bl**d.” It dries quickly, becomes resistant to degradation, and by adding a waterproofing potion and my bl**d, the affinity with my magical power is enhanced.
Then, by engraving the magical formation with it and creating a sealed space, the accuracy and fuel efficiency of spatial transitions will substantially improve. For the contents of a box that is about a size smaller than a coffin, it should allow for easy selection and removal of the contents, and should be usable six to seven times a day without issues.
The most complicated part is configuring the information of the items to be retrieved and pinpointing their coordinates. By simplifying and limiting the most difficult aspect, I can reduce the workload.
I’ve had Lady Agrippina supervise this to a degree. At that time, I received the aristocratic feedback: “Is it really necessary to go through such lengths?” Although I couldn’t make them understand that a poor person had to devise ways to survive, they cooperated well enough, so I shouldn’t face failure.
After etching the patterns—only on the inside of the box, since if it went outside it would be too ominous—the time taken to assemble it was just a moment. For now, I tossed in a piece of wood I had picked up as a test.
“Hey, what exactly are you making?”
“Proof is in the pudding, so I’m going to use it now, so watch.”
Then I activated the magic formation. I felt a nauseous sensation as I expelled a large amount of magical power, something I wasn’t used to thanks to only using low-fuel consumption magic.
However, a piece of wood was spat out from the black “fraying” of the space that was born in my palm, marking the success of the experiment. Though, if it makes me feel this nauseous, I won’t be able to use it easily in the heat of battle. I must either enhance the fuel efficiency or get accustomed to the sensation of having my magical power drained.
“Wow!?”
I happily opened the box to show Margit, who was astonished. The piece of wood I had carefully placed inside had vanished. Naturally, if the items were multiplying, it would be a real problem. I wouldn’t know what kind of backlash might come from the world.
“To think something like that is possible… Magic is amazing.”
“Right? With this, I can travel while keeping heavy or fragile items in a stable place. Then I just need to retrieve them when I need to use them. I can even call the whole box at once.”
As I explained, she tilted her head in curiosity.
“Then could I fit inside and have you call for me?”
Ah… well, I suppose that is a possibility.
But it’s still impossible. <Spatial Transition> is a technique that moves objects through a completely different realm for just an instant, so sadly ordinary living beings can’t withstand it. If I wanted to move a living creature “while alive,” I would need to develop an even more advanced spell.
Considering both the add-ons and the mastery of the spatial transition itself, I might have to pour all my experience into it to do so.
Yeah, I understand. Because if humans could teleport, there would be far too many scenarios that could easily collapse. I can see why the world would want to keep such things at a premium, as the GMs wouldn’t bother to create convenient spaces or barriers where magic couldn’t be used.
“Magic doesn’t always work out conveniently, does it?”
“More than anything, I’m glad you understand that. There are always those who mistakenly think that once you become a magician, you can do anything.”
I’m really glad my childhood friend is so understanding. We magicians are simply tweaking the structure of the world a little to make it feel “considered” by the world, not creating any handy phenomena that utterly ignore its laws.
We can’t create something from nothing, and we cannot multiply a single piece of bread into infinite bread, nor can we revert grilled fish back into living fish. Yet, people who don’t know tend to think we can do anything. Considering this point, it makes sense why my teacher told me to keep my identity as a magician hidden from me.
Being expected to fulfill unreasonable requests as a handy utility would be unbearable.
We thoughtfully discussed how this box could advance our adventures…
【Tips】 The box of spatial transition. It is a box made by Erich for his own use, and the items inside can be transitioned with low fuel consumption due to the embedded magical formation.
Long ago, sneaking out of the house at night meant going to a convenience store for a snack. In my high school days, enjoying the cold air while munching on those cheap fried chicken pieces was special.
However, now that lively signboard light is far away, I find myself making my way to the nearby woods, relying solely on the moonlight. There is no unhealthy, flavor-packed fried chicken here, nor that beloved sweet coffee milk.
All that exists is myself, the round moon, and the power I hold in the form of a sword.
I repeat the basic stance. The battlefield sword technique is a rough form of swordsmanship, but it has patterns. There are stances for receiving, lunging in aggressively, and luring an attack to counter. I dance with an imaginary enemy, swinging my sword endlessly as my spirit dictates.
Training with the self-defense corps is excellent exercise and practice. Engaging in serious fistfights with Lambert has brought me to the brink of life and d*ath several times and is the best way to gather experience points. Honestly, that person’s skill in swordsmanship and body technique, which can approach me, who possesses <Divine Realm> reach, is incredible. It is hard to understand why they are so leisurely in this countryside.
To be honest, I’m not sure if I’d win if we engaged in a genuine sword duel. It’s not just a simple comparison of specs, but I feel there’s quite a difference in the ranges we tend to reach… and perhaps also in terms of luck.
In a battlefield where people d*e like straw, where honorable knights fall to stray arrows, and where a single warrior dies whimsically with magic flying about, the sheer luck to remain on the front lines until retirement is something to be envious of. Participating in a battle could mean having faced tactical-grade magic too.
That said, envying someone fortunate won’t make me fly like a bird; feeling envy doesn’t bring you good fortune. Even if I scowl at the results of a gacha game that comes flowing through the timeline, my favored character certainly won’t pop up.
So I should just go for the k*ll in my own way. Just training with a sword makes my magical abilities dull.
Having warmed up with my sword, I thought I would gradually increase my pace.
I threw the sword I held towards an imaginary enemy positioned at a mid-range. While it wouldn’t be as accurate as a throwing kn*fe, a chunk of iron weighing over three kilograms whirring through the air would surely hit either the blade or the hilt.
“Two.”
With a snap of my fingers, I activated the spell in conjunction with the supplementary chant. The space unraveled, and the sword tagged with ‘two’ appeared in my palm from thin air. By the way, the sword I just threw had the ‘one’ tag.
The sword I’m holding, which is slightly longer than “Sending Wolf,” is spoils from when Mika and I were ambushed by bandits on our way to Vustro.
Then, I activated <Invisible Hand> and picked up the thrown sword, handling it with one arm. It felt like there was a half-autonomous invisible swordsman operating independently thanks to <Multiple Concurrent Thinking>.
After cycling through several patterns, I threw the sword at the imaginary enemy I had been holding down with the invisible swordsman. It’s a stylish finish to bind a target and then finish it off with projectiles.
“Three.”
I summoned more swords using <Spatial Transition>, increasing my pace. I summoned swords tagged four and five, endlessly switching them out as if they were disposable. All of them are nameless but are good finds. By carefully selecting weapons, I’ve been able to create a much more coordinated combo than what we had during our impromptu battle in the magic sword labyrinth.
Neither of us engaged in friendly fire, and I lined up as many “equal to me” swordsmen as I had “hands.” Given the cost of magical consumption, I think I’ve produced something quite egregiously effective.
The sixth sword, the latest addition, is the one Agrippina obtained after her first ambush last year, which I tossed aside as I drew my “Sending Wolf.”
And even that I left to “hands,” extending my hand to the void and silently calling its name.
That loathsome magic sword is crawling from that abhorrent bed, proclaiming blind love.
To be unworthy. To be loved, one must first give love.
Then, to love you even more fiercely to be worthy of love.
Before I knew it, this cursed object had learned to adjust itself to my convenient width.
I couldn’t help but compare it to a woman changing her fashion to suit her lover, but I can’t deny that it’s also called love. It’s only natural for someone who loves to desire their partner to love them back wholeheartedly, right?
Men too can dress sharply in a suit for their partner or splurge on an extravagant gift. If we think of it as sincerely offering oneself for love, it doesn’t feel bad at all.
Wielding the eerily comfortable “Sword of Desire,” I tried many techniques, switching stances one after another. After cutting down dozens of imaginary enemies, I had the thought to change my grip.
Rather than swinging the sword with one hand, I tightly gripped the hilt with both hands and prepared to swing it with all my might.
Then, without any delay, and without even feeling the weapon stretch within my hands, the “Sword of Desire” regained its original grandeur, transforming into a large two-handed sword far exceeding my size.
The black, gleaming blade harbored a menacing light, whispering to me, its dangerous beauty almost causing my soul to fall somewhere far away.
I love you, I love you, it cried blindly.
And I answered its plea, sweeping through the space with all my might. There was no grand wind cut sound accompanied; the air simply swayed as if it had died.
If the void had life, I could absolutely believe it had perished. I couldn’t achieve a hit that would make me say with confidence, “Oh, that was a perfectly rolled double,” had I been handling it without any addons.
The Sword of Desire had learned to adjust to me. Not in just one sense. No matter what form, it had perfectly integrated attributes of the one-handed sword skill into a two-handed sword.
Though long enough to be cumbersome, I wielded it completely naturally and without any sense of discomfort. I could swiftly evade or carry out defense maneuvers utilizing its long blade. I began to wonder if the “Sword of Desire” had adapted to me or if I had merely adjusted to it, as the dance of the sword continued seamlessly.
After dancing so frantically that the boundary between body and sword became hazy, a painful headache suddenly pierced through my temple to the back of my brain. It was the alert sign of magical depletion—it was my brain cautioning me that if I pushed too hard, I’d “crash.”
I should probably pause here to confirm the sustainability of my full combo. Although drenched in sweat, it’s crucial to gauge how far I can fight before incapacitating myself in actual combat—not something to laugh about.
Alright, I’ve put considerable thought into this and constructed something decent. While it isn’t at the unreasonable performance level of Lady Agrippina, I believe I can impose quite a challenging game on my opponents.
Also, if I’m giving it my all from the start, it might be better to call for the box as a whole instead of summoning swords individually to minimize overall expenditure. The impact and imagery of that might be more striking as well.
For now, as I contemplated wrapping things up and bathing in the well to sleep, I realized I had forgotten something quite important.
“…Ah, what should I name the combo?”
How could I have forgotten the combo name? It’s quite common to set a name for frequently used skill combinations, as it eases things during gameplay—especially since reciting the skill structure every time is tedious. Sometimes it can be a simple “one” and “two,” while other times I might come up with a name that feels as if my limbs or eyes are aching.
This is significant, too, because it’s not just about saving time; presenting settings that allow for cool expressions is a delightful aspect of TRPGs. The thrill of rolling dice after delivering a dramatic proclamation is something else.
With the “Sword of Desire” seeming to ask, “Is it over already?” I stabbed it into the ground and sank into thought…
【Tips】 Combo name. This is a way to bundle together the skills you plan to activate for ease of declaration. By showing the character sheet to the GM in advance, it becomes clear what skills and costs are involved without the necessity for lengthy chants during combat, making it highly useful.
Whether to let out your inner third-year middle school self or to indulge in a joke, if it perks up the experience, most things are generally permitted in the amusement of TRPGs.
I’ve impulsively made a surprise post at this time.
For further details, please refer to my Twitter.
It seems that the signed copies of the book have reached the hands of the winners.
That being said, I’ve never signed anything in my life, so I’m ashamed of how poorly it turned out; I must practice.
If the number of books to sign doesn’t increase, it would all be in vain… (glances) (glances)
