Chương 114: Poison Magic Smelled Worse Than Expected

While Sieghart continued helping Vessa and Orin produce equipment for the coming siege, a second problem occupied an increasingly large portion of his attention. He still needed to decide exactly how much he intended to involve himself once the fighting reached the walls. Technically, none of this was his war. Sieghart had arrived to charge magical equipment, study runic engineering, and return to Lunar Arc after one week without becoming involved in whatever conflict the northern armies were currently losing.

Reality had once again ignored the original assignment. Now the field army had retreated inside the town, the roads had effectively closed, and thousands of people were preparing for an enemy attack powerful enough that even noncombat Aura users might eventually be forced onto the walls. Sieghart could probably remain inside the workshop throughout everything.

Charging weapons, engraving circuits, and repairing simple equipment were legitimate contributions, especially when Vessa and Orin could produce far more gear with his effectively unlimited mana supporting them. That would also be safer. Unfortunately, safety was not the only thing Sieghart cared about. A battlefield offered experience. A lot of experience.

Black Magic advanced through killing in combat, White Magic improved whenever Sieghart genuinely protected or strengthened others in dangerous situations, and Summoning Magic benefited whenever his constructs served independent roles for allies. Even Perception Magic might reveal its progression requirements if Sieghart found the correct opportunity. A siege involving thousands of people could potentially provide more information about his System than months of controlled training beneath Lunar Arc.

That did not mean Sieghart planned to throw himself into the center of an orc army merely because experience points existed there. He had already learned several times that Infinite Mana did not automatically make him impossible to kill. Still, ignoring an opportunity simply because the situation was dangerous would accomplish very little. The people who murdered his grandparents were probably far more dangerous than ordinary soldiers, and Sieghart needed every advantage he could obtain before finally finding them.

He continued engraving a poison circuit into the flat section of a sword while thinking about the walls, enemy numbers, possible firing positions, escape routes, and how much of his actual strength he could reveal without compromising his disguise. Unfortunately, there was another problem. Time.

Weapon-shop owners throughout the commercial district had begun carrying their unfinished merchandise directly to Vessa and Orin's workshop, apparently because everyone had already learned that the two runic engineers were producing enchanted equipment faster than anyone else nearby. Some brought swords. Others brought spears, axes, arrows, shields, and even farming tools sturdy enough to become improvised weapons once reinforced properly.

Every new delivery increased the growing mountains of work surrounding the three of them. Sieghart looked toward the newest stack and wondered whether he would actually get a chance to fight before the siege ended. At the current rate, Vessa and Orin might chain him to the workbench using enchanted restraints before allowing him outside. Not literally. Probably. The two craftsmen barely stopped moving throughout the day.

Whenever their mana became too depleted for precise engraving, they switched to preparing materials, sharpening blades, checking completed circuits, or teaching Sieghart something useful while their reserves slowly recovered. Sieghart had already become reliable enough to handle basic inscriptions without constant supervision. That allowed Vessa to place another prepared sword in front of him while explaining the poison enchantment he had seen appearing repeatedly across their recent work.

"The rune itself is easy." Sieghart examined the diagram.

"That doesn't sound reassuring anymore." Vessa pointed toward the central symbol inside the circuit. Compared with several formations Sieghart had studied earlier, the poison rune was surprisingly compact, requiring only a few carefully curved lines surrounding the activation point. The complicated part was apparently not writing it. The complicated part was understanding what the rune was supposed to create.

"You can copy the shape." Vessa tapped the diagram.

"But if you don't understand the magic behind it, you're just drawing." That immediately caught Sieghart's attention because it confirmed something he had started suspecting while studying runic engineering. A blueprint could teach physical construction, but the magical effect still required actual understanding from whoever created the inscription.

"So I can't just invent a rune that kills anything it touches?" Orin looked over from another table.

"No. Unless you know the precise process how that would work."

"Disappointing."

"Very." Sieghart had already imagined how ridiculous Runic Engineering might become when combined with Infinite Mana. If arbitrary symbols could produce whatever effect the creator wanted, he could simply engrave something equivalent to destroy mountain and supply enough mana until reality surrendered. Apparently, the world possessed at least some standards. A rune represented structured magical knowledge rather than written wishes.

Someone could reproduce an established formation, but creating or modifying effects required understanding how mana behaved while producing the intended phenomenon. That made considerably more sense. It was also much more troublesome. Vessa finished checking another poisoned blade before turning it sideways beneath the light. A faint purple line ran through the completed circuit, although no visible poison appeared until she supplied a small amount of mana.

"You need Poison Magic first." Sieghart looked toward her.

"Can you teach me?" Vessa stopped. Orin stopped as well. Sieghart immediately recognized another one of those silent conversations people apparently enjoyed having through eye contact whenever deciding whether information should be given to a child.

"You asked." Vessa sighed.

"Fine." Sieghart smiled slightly. That was easier than expected. Vessa pulled a stool toward the workbench and began explaining the basic principle while Orin occasionally corrected terminology from the opposite side. Their descriptions were practical rather than academic, probably because neither of them considered themselves formal magic teachers. Poison Magic was not simply Water Magic containing something harmful.

The mana itself needed to behave as an invasive magical influence, entering or clinging to a target before interfering with normal biological functions. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Sieghart immediately compared the idea with a virus from his previous world, although Vessa and Orin obviously never used that term. Their explanation instead described hostile mana entering the body and forcing healthy processes to behave incorrectly.

That distinction was important. A Fireball damaged tissue by burning it externally. A blade damaged tissue by cutting it. Poison Magic corrupted normal functioning. The simplest method began at the skin. Mana shaped properly could cling to exposed tissue and gradually interfere with nerves, blood flow, muscle control, or other biological processes depending upon what kind of poison effect the caster understood. Open wounds worked even better. That also made sense.

Skin existed partly to keep harmful things outside the body, and Poison Magic apparently faced similar resistance. A cut provided direct access to tissue where the magical effect could spread much more efficiently.

"That's why we're putting it on blades." Orin nodded.

"Exactly." Sieghart looked toward the rows of prepared weapons. Suddenly, the popularity of poison enchantments became considerably more logical, especially against physically durable opponents capable of surviving injuries that would incapacitate ordinary humans. A sword did not need to kill immediately. It only needed to create an opening. The poison handled the rest. Learning the magic remained another matter.

Vessa explained that poison-aspected mana needed to remain tense and aggressive from the moment it formed. Loose mana dispersed too easily, while ordinary elemental shaping lacked the invasive pressure necessary to attach itself effectively to living tissue. Sieghart experimented with a tiny amount above his palm, compressing mana without giving it an elemental property. The result resembled a transparent sphere for several seconds before collapsing harmlessly into the surrounding air.

"Too soft."

"I noticed." He tried again. This time, Sieghart concentrated on giving the mana a hostile purpose rather than merely increasing pressure. The distinction felt strange because magic usually followed physical concepts like heat, motion, force, or reinforcement. Poison required an idea. Something negative. Something the mana was supposed to inflict.

Vessa started with the safest effect she knew because allowing an inexperienced ten-year-old to experiment with magical organ failure inside a crowded workshop was apparently where even her questionable standards established a boundary. Dizziness. Nothing lethal. Nothing permanent. Just enough interference with balance and sensory processing to make someone unstable after sufficient exposure. The associated smell was part of the simplest formulation.

Vessa explained that the vapor helped indicate where the poison spread, allowing beginners to control an effect they could otherwise barely perceive. Sieghart attempted the spell again. The sphere became faintly purple. Then exploded into harmless mist. Orin coughed.

"That was closer."

"It disappeared."

"Closer to being poison."

"That standard is low." Sieghart spent nearly an hour failing in slightly different ways. Sometimes the mana became too dense and collapsed, while other attempts spread too quickly to preserve the hostile magical structure needed for the poison effect. Eventually, he realized that he had been thinking about dizziness as the result instead of the process. He needed the mana to interfere with the target's ability to properly interpret balance and orientation rather than simply demanding that someone become dizzy.

That conceptual difference immediately changed the spell. The next sphere remained stable. Purple mana gathered above Sieghart's hand and slowly condensed into something resembling thick liquid despite never becoming actual physical fluid. Its surface shifted constantly while faint vapor curled away from the edges. Sieghart smiled. Then he smelled it. His smile disappeared.

"That smells horrible." Vessa immediately covered her nose.

"Get rid of that." Sieghart stared at the floating purple sphere.

"It smells like shit." Orin stepped backward.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Beginner poison."

"That didn't answer anything." The odor became stronger as the sphere stabilized, carrying something between rotting vegetation, sulfur, spoiled meat, and several other things Sieghart had no interest in identifying more precisely. His Enhanced Smell made everything worse. Sieghart immediately disabled the sensory spell before his newest magical achievement convinced him to vomit across the workbench. Even with ordinary senses, however, the poison remained impressively unpleasant.

A translucent notification appeared before him. A new branch has developed within Black Magic Poison Magic has been unlocked. Sieghart read the notification while maintaining the sphere at arm's length. Poison apparently belonged beneath Black Magic rather than forming another independent discipline, which made sense considering its primary purpose remained damaging or weakening enemies. Another notification followed immediately. New Spell Acquired: Poison Sphere — Level 1.

Creates a condensed sphere of poison-aspected mana capable of adhering to exposed biological tissue and inducing dizziness through disruptive magical contamination. +1 Magic per level. Sieghart examined the sphere again. One Magic per level. Not particularly surprising. Most of his offensive spells provided Magic, and Poison Sphere apparently followed the same rule despite attacking through biological disruption instead of conventional elemental damage. The smell remained unacceptable.

Vessa pointed toward the door.

"Outside." Sieghart raised an eyebrow.

"You told me to make it."

"I didn't tell you to perfume the workshop with it." Orin opened one of the windows.

"Please destroy it." Sieghart considered arguing that they had tolerated an actual explosion inside the same building several days earlier. Unfortunately, the expression on both craftsmen's faces suggested the poison smell had somehow crossed a line that fire and flying metal fragments had not. He released the spell. The purple sphere dissolved. The smell did not disappear immediately. Vessa glared at him. Sieghart looked innocent.

"You taught me."

"That doesn't make this my fault."

"It absolutely does." Orin started laughing until another trace of the odor reached him, at which point the laughter immediately turned into coughing and he moved toward the open window. Sieghart waved Breeze through the workshop, pushing the remaining smell outside before anyone decided his first Poison Magic lesson deserved to become his last. Once the air became tolerable again, Vessa dropped another prepared sword onto Sieghart's workbench and pointed toward the incomplete circuit etched across the blade.

"Good." Sieghart looked at her.

"Good?"

"You understand the magic now."

"That's all?"

"That was the part you were missing." Sieghart examined the poison rune again. The lines had not changed. His understanding had. Before learning Poison Sphere, the symbol had merely been a shape connected to an effect described inside a book. Now Sieghart could sense what the rune was actually attempting to force mana to become. Tense. Clinging. Invasive. Hostile. The inscription suddenly made considerably more sense. Sieghart picked up his runic engraver.

"So now I can make the enchantment." Vessa nodded.

"Now you can make the enchantment properly." That distinction pleased Sieghart more than he expected. The workshop had already shown him that Runic Engineering was not simply about copying diagrams, and Poison Magic demonstrated exactly how magical understanding connected with physical craftsmanship. Every advanced effect would probably demand another foundation. Fire enchantments needed Fire Magic. Cooling circuits depended upon understanding heat transfer or Ice Magic.

Healing equipment probably required White Magic. The possibilities expanded quickly. So did the amount of studying. Sieghart looked toward the growing stack of weapons waiting behind him. For the next several hours, he helped Vessa and Orin produce poison enchantments while shipments continued arriving from other shops. His unlimited mana prevented exhaustion, but his hands eventually started aching from nonstop engraving. There would be little rest tonight. Probably even less tomorrow.

Sieghart still did not know whether he would actually reach the walls before the enemy attacked, especially when every shopkeeper in town apparently intended to deliver another wagon of unfinished equipment directly to their door. That possibility irritated him. He wanted to test several theories once the fighting started. He wanted combat experience. He wanted to see whether White Magic could advance rapidly while supporting large numbers of defenders.

And increasingly, he wanted to see the Orc King responsible for forcing an entire army behind these walls. Sieghart continued carving the poison circuit. If he could get away from the workshop long enough to fight, the siege might become one of the best opportunities for progression he had encountered since arriving in this world. If not, at least he had learned Poison Magic. He looked toward the sword beneath his hand. Then toward the open window still clearing the final traces of smell.

Admittedly, some forms of progress were less pleasant than others.