Conjuring up a bigger Water Ball might not have seemed like a groundbreaking achievement on the surface. It couldn't be used to strike down foes, shield himself from danger, or lift the curse Michelle had saddled him with.But the implications behind that unassuming orb dwarfed the spell itself.It had illuminated a path for Benjamin, a road that could lead to true arcane might.Though he still didn't know how to learn new incantations or sense other elemental types, in this moment, he could feel the first stirrings of confidence in his magical aptitude, a fragile certainty taking root in his heart.When it came to the mystic arts, he was no longer fumbling blind!"What's the big deal? So you figured out how to feed elements to a magic rune to make it grow. Hardly brain surgery," the AI chimed in, as doggedly determined as ever to rain on Benjamin's parade."Y'know, you're really asking for a smack lately," Benjamin shot back, his patience wearing thin."My bad, oh wise and mighty one

The grand cathedral at night was a different beast entirely, devoid of the ceaseless tide of worshippers that flooded its halls by day. The occasional priest or knight hurrying through the corridors only served to amplify the oppressive tranquility and solemnity of the place.Benjamin sat in the same confessional booth as before, Michelle's letter clutched in his hand, awaiting the Archbishop's arrival.The Church's daily affairs must not have been too pressing, for the Archbishop arrived at the other side of the partition in short order. Of course, it was also possible that the Church simply placed great importance on Benjamin - or rather, on Michelle - and thus responded with such alacrity."Lord Lither, the dead of night is hardly the proper time for confession," the Archbishop intoned, his voice measured and unhurried behind the thin veil. There was no real reproach in his tone, merely a subtle hint for Benjamin to speak his piece without wasting time.Benjamin took the cue, immed

Thoroughly befuddled, Benjamin followed Grantt into the castle. As they went, the terminally work-shy AI finally deigned to pipe up and shed some light on the situation."Seven or eight years back, tensions were running high on this continent. There was another nation that rivaled the Horian Kingdom, and war seemed all but inevitable. As such, you young aristocrats were put through some fairly rigorous combat training. But as luck would have it, that rival nation soon collapsed into civil strife, the looming conflict never materialized, and your martial education was cut short."The AI paused for a beat, then continued:"But you restless little scamps, you'd absorbed all this military lore and were chomping at the bit to put it to the test. When the real deal failed to deliver, you got it in your heads that your battlefield talents were being wasted. And so, at someone's bright idea, this little tradition was born. A gaggle of young lords gathering at this old castle for a spot of sim

That's right, a gun.The weapon's profile didn't quite match the sleek, modern firearms Benjamin was used to seeing in police procedurals and action flicks. Rather, it called to mind the old-timey six-shooters favored by gunslingers in Westerns. The metal of the barrel was rough and unadorned, the craftsmanship crude, yet it still exuded the singular menace of a lethal weapon - an aura of impending death.Ever since crash-landing in this madcap realm, Benjamin had simply assumed that guns were off the table. The AI's exhaustive lore dumps had never once name-dropped firearms as a going concern. He'd just figured that in a world where divine miracles and arcane magic ran rampant, the tech tree had never bothered unlocking the "ballistic weaponry" skill.So much for that theory.And now, at this very instant, he found himself staring down the business end of a pistol, the finger on the trigger belonging to a hormone-addled adolescent who'd let his emotions

"When this book has outlived its usefulness to you, please pass it on to someone in need. The truth deserves to be preserved."This was the first line that greeted Benjamin as he cracked open the front cover.Sure enough, as he read on, the pages that followed contained the mages' version of the origins of magic and miracles - a different spin on the tale of Cain and Abel.In this story, there were no demons, only the God of Magic and the God of Light, who bestowed upon the two brothers the powers of sorcery and divine blessings, respectively. The true villains of this fable were the harsh, unforgiving wilderness and the fearsome magical beasts that roamed it. Cain and Abel worked hand in hand to tame the untamed land, leading humanity to establish a home they could call their own.As with all stories, the good times couldn't last. The brothers found themselves at odds over the matter of ritual offerings. The God of Magic favored tributes of grains and ve