Chapter 131: Dragon Magic
Dragons were masters of magic. This supposedly well-known fact was recently made known to me, yet I knew beyond a doubt it was true. Its breath weapon was the single most destructive spell I’d ever witnessed. Yes, a spell, not an ability or magical technique. By observing it in the cave and during my vision, I could understand something of its soul.
The Dragon’s soul was corrupted by demonic magic, yet the characteristic chaos and unbridled rage were kept under tight reign. Its mana was used almost instinctively, seamlessly welding the dragon’s native power and the Infernal frost together. It was similar to how I’d cast my first spell, relying more on willpower and imagination than understanding.
My mind raced with possibilities. Were magic circles and runes truly the only way to cast magic? What if there was so much more than the church had recorded? I’d discovered many flaws in their presented methods, with causes ranging from a lack of resources to blatant corruption.
On the other hand, this just be the difference between magical creatures and humanoid species. Demons seemed to cast as humans did, through learning and experience, while the dragon and basilisk had no such education.
The speculation didn’t linger in my mind. Whether or not I could mimic the dragon’s magic remained uncertain, but I had already learned a lot, so I shifted my focus to a more practical matter. Soul Casting had the glaring weakness of being unable to take advantage of physical enhancements, like staffs or wands. But as I observed the dragon, it displayed no such limitations.
It was impossible to determine whether magic circles were truly used, as the actual casting of the spell was done internally, yet I could assume as much. After casting the spell, the dragon somehow condensed the completed spell into a stream of raw mana, which then flowed out of its soul and crafted the breath’s attack. While it technically exposed the spell to countermagic, such a method also overcame Soul Casting’s flaws. If I could create a way to mimic the dragon’s technique, my magic would reach newfound heights.
Unfortunately, understanding the principle was far from enough to invent an entirely new discipline of magic, but at least I had somewhere to start.
The next two days passed in a flash. Whenever I wasn’t sleeping, I was experimenting with Soul Casting. The others worked tirelessly, but progress was slow. It felt like we were slowly crawling, with every passing hour bringing only a few dozen feet of progress. As we progressed, we ran into countless cracks and crevasses from the cave-in, which proved easy to dig through and replenished our constantly dwindling supply of air.
At long last, the soft glow of distant sunlight sank through the ceiling, breaking into the cave with a burst of fresh air. Shouting with joy, Soltair summoned remaining his mana and punched through the roof of the cave, blasting several tons of rock out of the way. Relief surged through me as the pale light of magical illumination gave way to the brilliance of the open sky.
"At last," Trithe sighed, sagging wearily against the wall. The unending toil had been particularly grueling for her slight frame, which possessed none of the natural bulk held by Soltair or Fyren.
The surface beckoned, a mere thirty feet above us, but the walls were far too sheer to climb. Fyren offered his hand, but I shook my head, taking a deep breath as mana saturated my soul. While I’d been unable to attain the kind of ability the dragon exhibited, my mana control had come a long way.
"Binding Winds," I called, Soul Casting the second circle spell.