Chapter 8 : Adventure Level 2 (1)

The weapons in the Preparation Room are managed by a set of rules.
Each person is given only one of each type of weapon.
If it breaks, it’s not replaced.
If you lose a weapon while carrying it, it automatically returns to the Preparation Room.
If it wasn’t lost, it remains where you left it.
Among the weapons managed by these rules, the spellbook is unique.
Unlike the other weapons, the spellbook isn’t a weapon.
It’s useless in combat.
Though maybe it could be used as a blunt instrument.
Nevertheless, the spellbook is managed by the same rules as the other weapons.
Until now, whether these rules applied to the spellbook or not didn’t matter much.
But when I started researching how to use the spellbook in combat, a problem arose.
Including Do Yugeon’s, there are only two spellbooks.
They are not replaced.

To test if mana accumulates in the spellbook, I need to damage some of its magic circles.
But what if damaging it breaks the spellbook beyond repair? There are only two.
Even for potential future experiments, the spellbook must be experimented on without being consumed.
When I first found the spellbook, I messed with it without knowing better, but the risk is too high now.
Though if absolutely necessary, I could probably get one from my acquaintance.
I came up with a solution: mass production of the spellbook.
The spellbook’s magic isn’t used by the book itself, but by the magic circles.
So, if I copy the magic circles exactly onto another notebook, wouldn’t it become a spellbook? A plausible hypothesis.
That’s why I’m currently observing and measuring the magic circles to copy them into a notebook.
I’m not engraving the circles using mana, just drawing them with a mechanical pencil.
To engrave the magic circles, I first need to memorize them clearly, hence the drawing.

I finished drawing the magic circle.
I looked at the drawing for a moment, engraving the shape into my mind.
Okay, I think I’ve memorized it.
Now, shall I try making a spellbook?
I took out the notebook I had set aside and placed it on the desk.
Since the goal is to copy the magic circles, I will replicate the ones in the spellbook exactly.
What needs to be copied are the position, size, and shape of the magic circles.
I closed my eyes, exhaled, and then moved my mana.
Using intuition, I found a suitable position and gathered mana.
Again, using intuition, I estimated the appropriate size and spread the mana into a circle.
One more time, using intuition, I compared the circular mana with the magic circle and dispersed the mana in the unnecessary parts.
Holes appeared in the circular mana, forming the shape of the magic circle.
Magic circle complete.
I opened my eyes and looked at the result.
Huh? It’s not a magic circle—just a pretty lump of mana.
I looked at the magic circle on the spellbook beside it.
They look the same, but that one uses magic, while this one is just a pretty mana lump.
What’s the difference? Is it subtly different because I made it haphazardly? Or is there another problem?
The mana dissipated.

Cha Haneul chatted with a friend at a café and then parted ways.
Checking her phone, she saw a KakaoTalk message.
It was from Do Yugeon.
– I’m staying at school to study today.
So what am I supposed to do with that? I didn’t even make plans with him today.
I wondered if he sent it to the wrong person—maybe his parents—but his parents both work, so a message like this wouldn’t mean much to them.
Is he just bragging about studying? Amateur.
Having nothing specific to say, I pondered what to reply for a bit, then sent a praising emoji.
As I entered the subway platform to go home, a thought occurred to me.
Should I visit his school? Let’s go. I boarded the subway.

A concern had recently arisen.
Do Yugeon has been visiting too often lately.
It’s partly due to the fantasy phenomenon, but he visits at other times too.
Visiting itself isn’t a problem, but the more time he spends playing with me, the less he’ll play with his own school friends, so I worry if he’s doing okay in school.
Since our elementary schools were nearby, he probably isn’t friendless, though.
If I go now, I can see how he’s doing.
Getting off the subway and walking a bit, I saw the middle school he attends.
Entering the main gate and walking further, I saw kids playing soccer on the field.
Every time I come here, I think they should really install grass on the field.
Dust must fly everywhere—why do they leave it like this?
As I headed toward the main building, I heard a familiar voice from the field.
Looking closer, it was Do Yugeon.
He was yelling something at his teammate.
So much for studying—he was playing soccer.

I sat down on the field stands.
His team’s atmosphere was grim, while the opposing team was cheerful, suggesting Do Yugeon’s team was losing.
He scanned the field and suddenly looked this way.
Then he went over to some kids watching from the other stands and talked to them.
One of the watching kids went onto the field to join.
A player substitution?
Do Yugeon approached me.
“You should have just kept playing soccer.”
“The team balance was off—we were going to lose anyway.”
He sat down next to me.
“More importantly, I’m heading home now.”
Now that I knew he was playing well with others, there was no need to stay longer.
He looked flustered, then suggested we walk home together, stood up, and headed toward the main building.
I dusted myself off and followed.

He spoke.
“How’s the reading with magic going?”
“That? Oh, I still haven’t figured it out.”
Until now, the problem was that the book shook slightly when held with magic, making it hard to read.
That part was resolved after practice enabled me to hold the book steady.
However, the real problem emerged when I actually started reading.
Magic is an act that requires conscious focus.
Reading is also an act that requires conscious focus.
The problem arises here: you can only focus on one activity.
When I start reading while using magic, my focus naturally shifts to the book’s content, causing the conscious focus on the magic to waver, which then makes me drop the book.
Meaning, the moment I get engrossed and enjoy reading, I drop the book.
Ultimately, to read using magic, I need to avoid focusing too much on the book’s content while paying attention to the magic.
I’m using magic to read, but to use magic, I have to give up reading properly? What kind of backward situation is this?

Thinking about it, there are two solutions.
One is to have someone or something else use the magic for me.
Magic circles come to mind immediately.
But I don’t even properly understand magic circles yet.
The second is to reach a point where using magic becomes an everyday, natural act.
When reading normally, you hold or support the book with your hands.
This action is maintained naturally even when focusing on the book.
Similarly, if I could use magic like using my hands, without focus, the problem would be solved.
Easier said than done.
That level of mastery is daunting.
At that point, you wouldn’t just be a mage, but a grand mage.
A graaand mage.
Reading with magic is this difficult? Isn’t the world being too harsh?

Do Yugeon said, “If even the genius is stuck, it must be a really difficult problem.”
“I told you I’m not a genius. Though it is a difficult problem. That’s why I’m focusing on magic circles lately.”
“Magic circles?”
“Yeah. Magic circles. Though I’m stuck on those too, eventually.”
What’s the difference between the magic circle shape made of mana and the spellbook’s magic circle? Why can one use magic while the other can’t?
Is there a minute difference in shape because I made it intuitively? Or is there a separate intermediate process for creating magic circles, meaning simply mimicking the shape with mana doesn’t make it a functional magic circle?
Since I don’t know the theory or laws of magic circles, I don’t know the cause or the solution.
But I don’t believe it will be impossible forever.
If I take more time and think about it patiently, I might be able to solve it.
Though if it ultimately doesn’t work, then it can’t be helped.
Still, it would be nice if I could read like that.

After logging in, I walk through the forest, chatting a bit with Do Yugeon.
Catching goblins is quick, so we spend more time walking than fighting.
Do Yugeon, who was clearing the path, glanced back at me a few times and said, “Let’s take a break.”
“Okay, great. An excellent idea.”
I sat down roughly on the grass.
Walking for so long is killing me.
He grinned slyly.
“You level up too—how come your stamina stays the same?”
“It’s not the same. I’m tired right now, so if you tease me more, I’ll get angry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”

Wandering around to hunt goblins is tiring.
Being in a forest makes it even more so.
But it’s manageable and decent work.
I’ve always known I lack stamina and always thought about exercising, but I only thought about it and never put it into practice.
Just like in my past life, exercise is something I just can’t seem to stick with.
But now, logging in and walking around every time automatically counts as exercise, so my stamina has improved somewhat.
What else is this if not exercise?
Additionally, according to the Exploration Alliance’s verification, leveling up improves physical abilities.
I don’t know if it’s really improving, but I can sense the system intervening and adjusting my body when I level up, so it must be true.
Do Yugeon also says he can feel the difference.
“That’s enough rest. Let’s go.”
We started walking again.

Today, we’re experimenting with goblin behavior patterns.
It’s because I noticed something strange while observing goblins.
Why do goblins travel alone? It’s not like there aren’t other goblins, so why are they alone?
Is there no need for them to travel together? Or, even though they look the same, are they strictly different types of goblins unable to cooperate?
When I mentioned this to Do Yugeon, he dismissed it casually.
“They’re mobs. When you play games, have you ever seen mobs move with thought? They just move according to their behavior patterns. Goblins are the same.”
“Even if it’s fantasy, comparing it to a game feels off since this is reality. Besides, looking at how goblins act, it’s not just simple patterns, right?”
They dodge magic improvisationally and target unarmed opponents first.
Swordsmanship is standard.
Aren’t these actions too complex to be considered mere patterns?
He laughed.
“Artificial intelligence.”
“Artificial intelligence, really—a versatile word that eliminates the need for logic wherever you stick it.”

Are goblins AI? So, I checked during the last login.
While Do Yugeon kept a goblin busy by clashing swords, I tried talking to it.
The goblin didn’t answer, nor did it make any meaningful sounds.
It did glance at me while I spoke, but its gaze seemed like it was looking for an opening.
After trying to talk to several goblins multiple times with no response, I decided to just consider them AI.
Their patterns are too complex to think of as AI, but since it’s fantasy, maybe there’s some incredible method involved.
Today, rather than fundamental questions like whether goblins are sentient or AI, we decided to observe how their patterns change when two goblins gather.
The observation isn’t for any specific purpose—just a minor hobby.
According to Do Yugeon, who has been chased by two goblins before, they cooperate to attack when together.
He claimed his memory was hazy because it was frantic at the time, so today we tested if they truly cooperate, and indeed, they attacked cooperatively.
They travel alone, but cooperate when they happen to be together. Why do they travel alone then?

Do Yugeon said, “We’re back to square one. Not sentient, but AI. In games, if mobs just roamed around together randomly, it would break the balance, so the system probably set them to move one by one.”
“Ah, right. It was fantasy.”
Fantasy is convenient.
Then let’s check if they are really set to move only one by one.
We gathered two goblins, then ran away without catching them.
I didn’t want to run myself, so Do Yugeon did the gathering and fleeing, while I observed from afar using my senses.
The two goblins chased Do Yugeon for a while, then stopped as if giving up.
And then, the two goblins didn’t stick together—they split up.
Right. Very strange, but it’s fantasy. Expected this.
I pressed my notebook against a tree and wrote down the results.
The plan is to write in the notebook first, then organize it in the spellbook back in my room.

Do Yugeon approached.
“Is that it for today?”
“Yeah. It’s time for dinner, so we should log out now.”
I finished writing and closed the notebook.
He made a sound of dissatisfaction.
“Leveling up is slow. At this rate, when will we hit 100?”
“Isn’t your goal too high? Level 100 will take a really long time. Lower your goal.”
“Then what’s the point? I’m trying to reach max level.”
The doors in the Preparation Room are labeled 1, 25, 50, 75, 100.
Based on this, there’s much debate online whether the max level is 100 or 125.
This kid believes the max level is 100 based on the strange reasoning that in games, the max level is naturally 100.
“Then just take it step by step.”
I stretched.
Should I log out soon?
But just then, a status window popped up.
[System Update Complete]
A skill window has been added to the system. Try shouting ‘Skill Window.’ You can now use skills.
Huh?