Chương 589: B8 - Chapter 86: The Crutch

"It felt as if I was seeing the world for the first time. Every drop of blood was calling out to me, begging to be brought under my command." Zeke paused, recalling the vivid sense of power he had experienced for the first time in his life.

"There was no delay between what I wanted to happen and what actually happened... it was... it was like..."

"... Magic?" Khai'Zar cut in when he struggled. Zeke could not help but nod. Magic truly was the word, yet it felt strangely wrong at the same time. What he had experienced was not the magic he had come to know, but what a commoner might imagine magic to be. There was no theory, no spellwork, none of the tedium he had come to associate with the path of a Mage. Only a feeling of effortless control. A feeling of power. Khai'Zar nodded.

"That is not surprising. What you just described is Magic. True Magic."

"What are you trying to say?" The Dragon snorted.

"Do you really need me to spell it out? Fine. Your so-called spells are not Magic. And from what I've seen, most humans, even those you call Archmages, do not know a single thing about Magic, not anymore."

"... Spells are not Magic?

"Are you just going to repeat everything back to me, whelp?" Zeke frowned. It was not that he enjoyed making a fool of himself, but the Dragon's words were just that confusing. He did not even know where to begin. Still, this was a rare opportunity, and it felt as though if he did not seize it, it might take years before he had another chance to question Khai'Zar so directly.

"If spells are not Magic, then what are they?"

"A crutch." Zeke frowned. A crutch? That went against everything he had learned. Spells were the pinnacle of combat Magic. Reliable, efficient, precise. While they could not quite match unstructured Magic in terms of speed, they excelled in every other area. That was a fact. Known and accepted by all. The only problem with that assertion was that Zeke found himself agreeing with Khai'Zar. He had felt it himself.

Earlier, when he acted on instinct and wielded that blood as if it were his own hands and feet, he had clearly sensed the difference. To claim that this was an inferior form of Magic felt completely wrong. But then... could it be that all other Mages were mistaken? That all the geniuses who had come before him had made a mistake? That seemed just as unlikely. Fortunately, Zeke had someone in front of him who might actually know the answer to these questions.

"If unstructured Magic is true Magic, and spells are fake, then why do humans not use it more?" The Dragon gave him a long look.

"I already told you."

"... What?"

"It is a crutch," the Dragon repeated.

"Do you not know what that means? Or are you going to ask me next why people with broken legs do not simply walk normally?" Zeke shook his head.

"That analogy is flawed. Most Mages can use unstructured Magic just fine, but they choose not to."

"What makes you think that?"

"Pardon?"

"What makes you think they can use 'unstructured Magic' as you call it?" The Dragon questioned.

"Do you honestly believe that just anyone could do what you just did? Do you think the only reason they didn't is that they have never tried? Or that they didn't think to try?" Zeke didn't respond.

"Do you think all the humans you killed, dozens, or even hundreds, could have done the same as you did if they had wanted to?"

"I..."

"They couldn't," Khai'Zar answered before Zeke could even say anything.

"And whoever told you that spells are a superior form of Magic had a complete lack of understanding of what Magic is."

"And what is Magic?" Zeke asked. Khai'Zar paused for an instant.

"I am far too weak to give you a definitive answer on that question. Not even my father, or his forefathers, has an answer to that. Likely, only a Monarch could truly answer that." The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. There was a momentary pause as Khai'Zar gathered his thoughts. The mention of Monarchs always made him uneasy, likely because his people had a vastly different relationship to them than humans.

"But I can tell you one thing," Khai'Zar continued.

"Any framework that adds more barriers between your will and the effect you want to create will always be an inferior form of Magic." That gave Zeke pause. The concept was so simple it almost seemed naive, and yet he could not find a flaw in it. The only doubt he could reasonably raise was the source of the Dragon's confidence.

"How can you be certain?" Khai'Zar shrugged.

"It is just speculation, really. But when you rest as much as I do, you have plenty of time to think. And lately, I have been pondering the essence of Magic quite a bit. About how far humans have strayed from the path they once knew..." Zeke noticed that Khai'Zar seemed to be in a talkative mood, so he did not interrupt while the Dragon was willing to share his knowledge so freely.

"You have to understand that in ancient times, human civilization was nothing like it is today," the Dragon began.

"Your people were incomparably weak. So weak, in fact, that not a single one of the dominant races considered them even the slightest threat." Khai'Zar's expression grew complicated as he spoke of that distant past.

"I was not yet born in those days, but from what I have heard, your kind was among the weakest forms of life. Your physical strength was below that of even the lowest beasts, your intellect was middling, and your magical aptitude was utterly pathetic." The Dragon did not hold back, speaking about humankind in a way Zeke had never heard before. But soon, his expression shifted.

"That is, if you do not consider the few exceptions," he added.

"Humans born with an aptitude for magic so pure that they could rival even the most formidable beings of the era." Khai'Zar paused, his voice taking on a strange tone.

"Torchbearers, we've come to call them. Individuals so exceptional that they could elevate an entire race. They were like a different breed." Zeke listened with rapt attention. This was the first time he had learned anything about the beginnings of human civilization. It painted a fascinating picture.

"There were no spells at that time, you see," Khai'Zar said.

"Every human was capable only of what their talent allowed. Most could do little to nothing. Their lack of magical understanding meant that their limited physical strength remained their greatest weapon."

"Only one out of a hundred humans," Khai'Zar continued, "might have been able to match a Dragon hatchling at their peak."

"One out of a thousand might have been able to match a juvenile Dragon, with a bit of luck."

"But those one in a million..." Khai'Zar paused.

"My people thought that they might come to be able to match an adult or perhaps even an Elder..." Khai'Zar's face twisted with regret.

"We were wrong. Before we even realized it, there was a group of Torchbearers so powerful that even together, we could no longer match them. The Allfather, the Phoenix Queen, even my own grandfather, alongside a dozen races that have since vanished, were all defeated." Zeke's jaw nearly dropped. He had never heard the term "Torchbearers" before, but from what Khai'Zar was saying, they seemed to be ancient human prodigies who wielded unstructured Magic the same way he had today.

Most likely, that meant they all possessed perfect affinities for their elements.

"It was they who later ascended to become the first and only generation of Monarchs," the Dragon continued.

"They were the product of a crueler time, an era when the very existence of their race was at stake and the entire world stood against them." He gave Zeke a look that was difficult to read.

"That is the level of pressure required to reach that final realm." Even after Khai'Zar finished, Zeke remained silent for a while, trying to process everything he had just heard.

"How could they become so strong without the help of rituals? How did they ascend through the ranks?" Khai'Zar gave him a questioning look.

"Do you think the ranks you know today are a concept that has always existed as an ultimate truth?" Zeke considered that for a moment.

"They are also part of the crutch?" Khai'Zar nodded slowly.

"Everything you have ever learned about Magic and its systems is nothing but a crutch. Magic is not meant to be learned, taught, or understood. Magic is meant to be felt, discovered, and mastered." Zeke considered that for a moment. It sounded absurd, but at the same time, he was curious to learn the ultimate conclusion Khai'Zar had reached after thinking about the human Magic for such a long time.

"If spells and rituals truly are nothing more than a crutch, why would the ancient humans ever abandon the true path for a false one?" Khai'Zar tilted his head, gazing into the empty void with a peculiar smile.

"For the same reason that humans will never become a pinnacle race. Your greatest shortcoming..." A hundred thoughts flashed through Zeke's mind, but none of them came close to what the Dragon said next.

"Empathy," Khai'Zar spat, his tone as if he had uttered a curse.

"Empathy?" Zeke repeated.

"That is... what you think is our greatest weakness?"

"What else would you call it?" the Dragon asked.

"Your kind has willingly embraced a system that gives the greatest number a chance to wield Mana, even if it comes at the cost of your most talented individuals." Zeke frowned. The very idea of sharing Magic with everyone had been his mentor's lifelong goal, his vision. Even if Zeke did not fully agree with it, he could not let Khai'Zar dismiss it as a joke.

"That is simply a matter of perspective, of priority."

"Your words are those of a child. A foolish child who has grown up in peace, in safety, in comfort." The Dragon fixed him with a gaze filled with anger.

"You do not even know how lucky you are. All of you. If that old monster were not keeping us sealed... the horrors your weak kind would suffer..." Khai'Zar cut himself off and slowly shook his head, the anger draining from him.

"You have grown far too weak as a species," he said at last.

"Your kind has more Mages than one can count, yet none of them are worth the air they breathe. Let me tell you directly, if my people returned today, the reign of humans would end in a day. All these crutches, all these shackles, have condemned the best among your kind to a life of mediocrity." He looked at Zeke with something that almost resembled pity.

"Remember my words, whelp," he said solemnly.

"A crutch can allow a cripple to walk. But if a healthy man relies on it, their legs will wither." His piercing golden eyes swept over Zeke, as if inspecting every detail.

"You will have to decide for yourself whether you are content to keep pretending to be crippled, or if you would rather stand on your own legs for once... before it is too late." Without waiting for a response, Khai'Zar vanished, leaving only Zeke and Akasha behind in the empty space of his mind.