"Torn apart by their own violent magic, scorched nerves, losing control of external magic, leading to a powerful explosion."
"Blasting the caster along with the entire laboratory... over the past few hundred years, there have been countless such cases."
"Every seemingly useless low-level spell you see now is tied to the lives and blood of countless pioneers."
"It was they who tried with all their might, tested, and step by step perfected the relatively safe spells of today."
"Because of this, after paying a sufficiently painful price, today's sorcerer community has almost reached a consensus."
"Unless with absolute certainty, we will never easily create new spells."
"More energy is invested in searching for elven ruins, hoping to find more powerful and safer ready-made spells there."
Hen looked deeply at Karl: "Now do you understand? The slow progress of spells is not entirely a human problem; magic itself is the problem."
Karl's eyes flickered, and he fell silent. It was Chaos magic again... that stuff really is harmful.
He looked up, reached out, and took a thick roll of parchment, handing it over.
"Teacher, this is my understanding during this period... a little inspiration, some notes, and attempts to create small spells, you see."
Hen's brows raised in surprise, a flicker of astonishment in his eyes. He took the scroll, and his fingertips felt the residual energy on the parchment.
He immediately sat at the table, carefully unrolling the scroll.
At the beginning of the scroll, a title and general plan were written in clear, strong handwriting.
"Ideas for Classifying Existing Spells and Dividing Them into Eight Schools"
Below, the names of the eight schools were listed in detail: Abjuration, Invocation, Divination, Enchantment, Illusion, Necromancy, Transmutation, and Evocation.
For example, fire, ice, lightning, etc., classify existing elemental spells into the School of Evocation.
During his consultation, Hen couldn't help but mutter to himself, his eyes growing brighter and brighter as he read deeper.
This was not just a simple classification; it was a new, logical, and progressive concept of magic.
It pointed the way to the end of each path, providing a theoretical basis and direction for the specialization of sorcerers.
And when his gaze fell to the bottom and saw the several homemade spells Karl had listed in the second half of the scroll, the surprise on his face could no longer be hidden.
Mind Closure is not a traditional spell, but a unique technique of creating magic, forming an internal barrier to thought.
Specifically designed to protect against mind detection, mind reading, and mind control, it works excellently with such spells.
The Firewall technique, based on pyromancy, changes the form of energy release.
From splashing flames to a continuously burning linear or circular wall of fire, used to divide the battlefield and block enemies.
The Fire Ring, also a variant of pyromancy, instantly explodes into a ring of fire around oneself or rotating around oneself.
Hen's fingers traced the descriptions, and he felt the subtlety of the spells.
They break free from the constraints of traditional incantations and gestures, more like a more direct and efficient use of the essence of magic.
However, because of this, they also have high requirements for the caster's mental control and ability to micromanage magic.
After a long time, Hen slowly rolled up the scroll, carefully put it away, and placed it in his inner pocket.
Then he looked up at Karl with complex eyes, his eyes full of amazement, relief, and indescribable emotion.
"Karl, the concept of the Eight Schools you proposed is like a beacon, guiding a clear path through the fog."
"Just this idea alone is enough to leave a name in the history of sorcerers."
"It should be brought to the Brotherhood as soon as possible for discussion as an important reform bill."
"As for these spells... they are very cleverly conceived, even groundbreaking."
"But they have no incantations; they are more like mental constructs, and the control requirements are extremely high. You are special to be able to cast them."
"For other sorcerers, it is unknown whether they can safely learn and release these spells."
"This requires careful testing to find suitable and safe learning methods before deciding whether they can be promoted."
......
That afternoon, behind the temple, in a quiet room, the light was dim and focused.
The air was filled with the characteristic, pure, warm scent of burning beeswax.
Dozens or even hundreds of candles of different thicknesses densely surrounded the center of the quiet room, illuminating the space as bright as day.
In the center of the candles stood a small stone statue that already bore a certain charm of Karl.
Before the statue, Karl stood with his back to the entrance, facing a heavy oak table.
In his hand, he held a quill, its tip dipped in ink, writing on a specially tanned strip of parchment.
The quill tip scratched the surface of the parchment, making a soft rustling sound, and the ink faintly flowed in the candlelight, with a barely perceptible shimmer.
Not far behind Karl, Dalton stood solemnly, dressed differently than usual.
He had removed his lightweight leather armor and replaced it with a shiny set of bright silver full-body plate armor.
The set of armor has smooth lines and an exquisite design, and every detail is carefully polished to reflect the candlelight.
This was exactly what Karl had designed and forged himself, not the Holy Blood Angel armor adorned with wings and the S symbol.
The plate and shoulder armor were wide and angular, their edges decorated with circles of fine, vine-like golden prayers, shimmering with divine light in the firelight.
The wrist armor was also decorated with similar text, especially in the center of the breastplate, where a distinctive emblem was engraved.
A pattern resembling a cross-shaped skeleton, but carrying a certain solemn image of a skull.
In specific positions on the shoulder armor and breastplate, it was also made of metal relief, matching the shape of an open book.
Dalton's eyes were full of doubt and anxiety. He had received an order from Master Karl to bathe, purify himself, and change into this most formal set of armor.
When he came to the quiet room of the temple, his heart was already full of questions, and such a solemn atmosphere made him hold his breath.
At that moment, Karl, standing with his back to him, suddenly spoke, his voice calm but with a power that penetrated directly into the depths of his heart.
"Dalton, what is your oath, your duty?"
Without hesitation, Dalton suddenly knelt on his right knee, the plate armor hitting the stone floor with a dull thud.
He clenched his left hand into a fist, heavily traced it over the cross-skull emblem on his breastplate, lowered his head, and answered clearly and powerfully: "I, Dalton, will always be loyal to you, Lord Karl!"