Gunmage-Chapter 273: Too much, too human

An overworked elven researcher once asked his human assistant:

"Hey man, do you think you could—"

"What are you doing?"

Lugh interrupted Zhou’s performance mid-sentence, his voice flat.

"I’m role-playing,"

She responded awkwardly.

He exhaled, expression blank.

"Don’t do that."

She pouted.

"Fine."

But continued anyway.

"Hey man, I don’t suppose you could help me with this stuff—"

"What stuff?"

"We’re trying to increase the output of mana,"

Zhou said with a dramatic flourish.

"But it’s a never-ending slug. I’m tired. My brain is tired. I want to go home and lie down on a bed of feathers."

"Well, you can just do that."

The human’s response was nonchalant.

"What do you need me for?"

The elf shifted in his seat, suddenly sitting straighter, more animated.

"I don’t suppose... you could help me think up... things."

"What things?"

"How to increase the mana output of circles."

There was a pause.

"Okay, let me get this straight. Do you need help in increasing mana output overall, or are you just interested in the output of the circles?"

The elf frowned, ears twitching in frustration.

"Isn’t it the same thing?"

"It really isn’t. If you want to improve the output of a circle, then I can’t help you. But if you want to improve overall output, the answer is easy."

...

...

"And that is?"

The elf finally asked.

"Oh, right. Make more circles."

It was like the elf’s brain short-circuited. He sat completely still, expression frozen, the simplicity of the answer crashing into him like a brick to the temple.

His other assistant—a female elf—sneered, before jabbing sharply at the human with her words.

"What is this fool saying? ’Make more circles’? As if it were that easy. Don’t you know that spells conflic—"

"I’m not telling you to cast different spells,"

The human cut in coolly.

"Just make more circles... for the same spell. There should be no conflict there."

Like her predecessor before her, she was stunned silent. Her mouth hung open at the sheer, brutal obviousness of the statement. No eloquence. No flourish. Just raw logic.

"Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out how to make this drainage system work."

...

Everything snapped back to the present. Lugh simply looked blankly at the tall elf who had just finished reenacting the bizarre one-man show.

Zhou ended her dramatic voice and tilted her head.

"Any questions?"

He stared for a moment, deadpan. Then spoke.

"That’s it? So the big solution was just to create more magic circles? How on earth is that a breakthrough? That’s just common sense."

"To you it is,"

Selaphiel interjected, her tone calm but pointed.

"But to others who have lived centuries thinking otherwise, it doesn’t come as easily."

Zhou chimed in, undeterred.

"Humans have a phrase for this. It’s called ’thinking outside the box.’"

Lugh sighed deeply, covering his face with his palm. Their tomfoolery was starting to get to him far more than he liked. He dragged his hand down slowly before muttering,

"Okay then. How exactly does this all relate to me—or the spell I used?"

Zhou furrowed her brows.

"Lugh... are you slow?"

"Who, me? No... I’m not an elf."

"Whoa, what does that mean?"

Jahira began, but stopped herself when Selaphiel raised a hand.

"Everyone knows you’re not an elf, Lugh. Elves have a sense of fashion."

"They’re also pretty good at blackmail and coercion,"

Lugh muttered.

"Makes you wonder if all of them are criminals."

"Okay! That’s enough!"

Zhou clapped her hands sharply, the very person who had started the nonsense now reeling it in. She dragged the conversation back on track with visible effort.

"Lugh, what I’m trying to say here is that, once we consider that you are human, the magic you used becomes... highly problematic."

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Explain."

"Okay, let’s head back to our numbers, shall we?"

Lugh nodded.

She gestured vaguely in the air, organizing her thoughts.

"So, while it’s difficult to get a single mana circle above a hundred points, the suggestion had to do with creating multiple hundred-point circles.

It might take time and effort—neither of which are significant sacrifices to an elf—but once I learn to simultaneously manifest ten of those circles, I’ll have a mana output of 1000."

She paused for emphasis, then continued.

"This is a significant jump. I don’t need to explain why it’s a major boon, do I?"

"No, you don’t,"

Lugh replied, his voice distant, eyes sharp with concentration.

He asked slowly,

"Mana output is pretty important to elves, huh?"

"Yes,"

Zhou answered plainly.

"Most elves have more mana than they can effectively spend. You’d be hard-pressed to hear of an elf who ran out of mana. It’s very rare."

Lugh nodded once, mechanically.

"How then,"

He began,

"Does me using this magic make it problematic?"

Zhou, seemingly pleased by his question, nodded approvingly before responding.

"Remember the figures I gave you about a regular human’s mana points?"

"Uh... around fifty to a hundred for established mages... by generous estimates."

"Yes,"

She confirmed.

"By very generous estimates."

Lugh began to notice something in her tone.

"You mean..."

"Yes," freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Zhou answered, satisfied he was catching on.

"We’ve been talking about research and magic breakthroughs,"

She said,

"But none of them were made with humans in mind. An output of 200 and above doesn’t matter to someone whose maximum mana is not more than 50. Even if they learned how to make those circles, their body wouldn’t be able to fuel them."

Lugh’s expression darkened. His posture tensed slightly.

"And you, Lugh, are a human. Or at least... you’re supposed to be a human. Yet not only did you create an immensely powerful magic circle, you simultaneously manifested many of them in order to increase your output."

She leaned forward, eyes glinting.

"Frankly speaking, this should not be possible at all. I’m also very curious as to where you learned it. Who is your teacher?"

"All right, that’s enough."

Selaphiel’s voice cut through like a blade, her tone final. Then, more softly, she added,

"Family secrets. I hope you’ll understand."

The topic was closed. But as silence settled, they all turned—quietly—to look at the boy in question.

Lugh stood there with his head hung low, motionless. Slowly, he reached into his pockets and pulled out something small—tarnished silver, faintly glowing under the sunlight.

It was a ring.

A ring he had kept out of sight and out of mind—until now.

He stared at it, unmoving, memories flashing through his mind.

Finally, in a low murmur, he spoke.

"This... shouldn’t be possible."

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