Chương 42: The Cost of Magic.

After the largest lunch she could manage, Lira returned to her alcove with a sense of lethargy that came from overeating. She had even gone as far as asking old Marga for a second serving, something she would not have considered before. Still, the memory of the hunger that had followed her last casting of the spell was too fresh to ignore, and she had no intention of repeating that unprepared. She settled into her chair and carefully placed the sword saint manual in front of her.

After a thorough inspection of the book, she found that the damage was even more severe than she had initially considered. The leather cover was split along the spine, with nearly half of it missing entirely. The remaining portion was brittle, cracked, and discolored from age and neglect. Several pages had been torn out, leaving jagged gaps that broke the continuity of the text. Others had been partially eaten through by moths, their edges riddled with irregular holes that made the diagrams difficult to follow.

Finally, the ink had faded unevenly, some sections still legible while others had dissolved into faint shadows. It was a mess. Lira let her fingers rest lightly against the surface for a moment before drawing in a steady breath.

"Linasara. Luneth. Velar. Moren. Kaldris." The spell took hold immediately. She watched as the process unfolded, attentive to every detail. The spine shifted first, the damaged structure pulling inward as if guided by an invisible framework. Fibers extended and reconnected, threads of material weaving themselves back into place. Pages began to grow from the binding, forming gradually, layer by layer, as though the book was remembering its own shape. The torn sections closed as the missing pages returned.

Ink darkened, reforming into precise lines that matched the original script. Finally, the leather cover followed, regenerating from the spine outward, smoothing and tightening until the cracks disappeared and the surface regained its original texture. The transformation took only a few seconds, but it was slow enough to be observable. When it was done, the book looked as good as new, untouched by time. Lira exhaled quietly, her attention still fixed on the restored manual. Then her stomach growled.

This time, it was even more pronounced than before. Her body was protesting from the repeated strain. It felt less like ordinary hunger and more like something being pulled from her, an absence that demanded to be filled immediately. Lira stood up, her mind growing dazed for a second, as if she had fasted for a couple of days. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

She reached for her stash of snacks and began eating, pulling out dried fruits, nuts, and whatever sweets she had left. The discomfort began to ease gradually as she replenished herself, but it took longer than she would have liked. As she ate, her thoughts turned toward the difference between this spell and the earlier cleaning one. That spell had not caused any side effects, and she could not help but wonder why.

"Ladar. Linasara. Oshkan. Cognar. Turat." With growing ease, she cast her divination spell, narrowing her intent toward the most relevant source of information that could explain the phenomenon. A single signal stood out.

"Yorad. Linasara. Kaldris." She extended her hand, catching the book as it flew toward her, the motion adjusting smoothly to match her intent. She glanced at the cover and, to her surprise, it was not a magical theory book but something far more ordinary: a culinary text. Lira hesitated for a fraction of a second before deciding to proceed.

"Pika. Linasara. Cognar. Coopar. Nagla." The contents settled into her mind quickly, and understanding followed. The cleaning spell had not required the same cost because it did not create anything from nothing. The spell simply removed impurities, refined what already existed, and left the structure intact. There was no need for additional material, nor any reconstruction beyond a surface-level adjustment. Restoration, however, was different. It had a conjuration aspect to it.

Missing pages, damaged fibers, the leather cover, and even the degraded ink all had to come from somewhere. The spell was not simply reversing time; it was rebuilding the object based on a previous state, and that required matter. And when matter was not supplied externally, the body compensated. Lira frowned slightly as she processed that. Would adding empty pages help with the cost? She could not tell for sure. It would require further testing. The rest of the book focused on offering practical advice for mages.

It described dietary adjustments based on the type of magic being used. Mineral-heavy conjurations, even temporary ones, benefited from organ meats, while plant-based summoning responded better to fibrous foods. It even confirmed her theory that mind magic required more sugar. The book also mentioned conditions similar to anemia that could develop from repeated casting without proper care. Relying entirely on food to sustain magic was not recommended, the author warned.

Growing the mana pool would reduce the burden and should always be the path forward. Lira knew about mana as a concept, even before becoming a mage. But if she was honest with herself, she did not truly understand what it was. It was something that fueled mages, monsters, and legendary artifacts, but she could neither see it nor feel it directly. She cast spells using words and intent, and whatever happened beneath that process remained hidden from her awareness.

Her mental list of things she needs to study kept growing larger. Still, for now, she needed a practical solution. Lira glanced at her dwindling supply of snacks. It was nearly depleted. She would need to restock soon, and this time with more intention toward her growing dietary needs. Luckily, there was a stash of silver coins upstairs waiting to be used. But more importantly, she would need to pace herself.

Restoring multiple books in a short period would only strain her further, and she had no desire to test her limits unnecessarily. Once every few days felt reasonable. Her gaze shifted back to the sword saint manual, now fully restored. She had what she needed. She exited her alcove, the book in hand. Sir Deren would be her next stop.