"I honestly don't know if your new magecraft system is genius or heretical, Master. It completely defies the common sense that 'mystery' must be hidden, making it accessible to everyone, exposing 'mystery'… truly unprecedented."
Roman discussed magecraft with Samuel, stunned by the system he'd developed.
This system overturned old rules, forging a new paradigm.
Even Roman struggled to judge it.
"Doesn't knowledge exist to be learned? It constantly seeks users, spreaders. So… let's fulfill its wish, letting its wisdom reach everyone!"
Must 'mystery' be hidden? That rule was selfish and foolish. Each piece of 'mystery' is finite, but there are infinite pieces.
Arrogant, inflexible magi monopolized an infinite cake factory, using one machine to bake, believing they owned all 'mystery.' Unbeknownst to them, the factory was boundless, able to house countless workers, producing endless cakes. Quantity breeds quality—think "cream cakes" or "fruit cakes." Everyone could learn, improve.
This cycle would yield ever more delightful cakes, even turning the absolute "magic" into reality.
Samuel's system opened the entire cake factory, a key to a self-service bakery.
Initially, "knowledge" unlocks "Personal Reality." Later, people use "knowledge" to shape their own.
This system grazed the edges of the "Third Magic."
"Remarkable, Master. You'll usher in a new era."
"Will you help me, Roman?"
People need knowledge; knowledge craves to be held. People master it; it tests them.
This system was Samuel's foundation—his path to ascension, in fantasy novel terms.
Recruiting all into the "mystery" factory, harnessing collective wisdom to create value, amplified by calculation, yielding infinite knowledge.
Changing an era—a romantic notion no man could resist…
"No way! Absolutely not! I, Romani Archaman, just want a peaceful life! Spreading wisdom and changing eras would keep me up at night. For my sleep, I refuse to help!"
He'd toiled enough—as Solomon, as Doctor Roman for a decade. Now, he wanted a quiet life, the mundane joy of a shut-in.
"Eh, I figured you'd say that."
Samuel shrugged, not expecting Roman's aid.
"Master, you're too sly. To avoid your schemes, I'm done discussing this. I'm out. Oh, about Sakura's situation—come up with a plan yourself!"
With that, Roman slipped away.
"Hm… Imaginary Numbers?"
Samuel recalled Roman's report on Sakura.
Her attribute was so potent that any stimulus triggered an extreme, automatic response.
It resembled Samuel's early days—a machine, actions suppressed until the "firewall," or "Leumas," emerged.
But Sakura's case differed greatly, and Samuel's methods had advanced.
"Step by step."
After brief thought, Samuel chose the safest route: his "Modern Magecraft Engineering."
Through his "pseudo-Grimoire," Sakura would study, naturally awakening her Personal Reality, then harmonizing her "attribute."
In no time, Samuel compiled his knowledge from grimoires and magecraft into a temporary tome: Scientific Magecraft.
To a professional magus, it sat between ordinary books and grimoires. It held little power, yet its wisdom surpassed typical grimoires.
Logically, such wisdom shouldn't carry so little "mystery," yet it was safe for ordinary people.
Unlike standard grimoires, it was unfinished—the only one of its kind.
Completed grimoires manifest mystery and power. Unfinished, they lack both, unrecognized as "wisdom."
Even if the same author adds new insights, continuing the same grimoire creates a new one. The old, incomplete version becomes part of the new.
Yet, the incomplete remains whole, undeniably.
Comprehending a grimoire's authorial intent grants its full power, with no further gain from re-reading.
Samuel's Scientific Magecraft was an unfinished book with power, never to be completed, its intent ungraspable.
A living book, Samuel's other half, the computational part—a world of countless magecraft data, like the "Ark of Civilization," ever-calculating, its wisdom growing constantly.
It was Samuel's stepping stone. Readers would forever learn, their insights adding new possibilities.
A mass-producible, living grimoire—a vast network!
Normal grimoires don't repeat. Even with identical knowledge, an author can't write two identical grimoires, as their core is the author's "heart."
Hearts always change, even minutely, from moment to moment.
This book could be endlessly replicated, ever-updating, embodying change and process itself!
***
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