Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

No one answered still.

"Then please pass these items to Benwei for me," Winters said, placing the meat and flour he had brought at the neighbor's doorstep before mounting the strong and turning to head home.

"Something must have happened at Benwei's home; perhaps they are hiding from someone," Winters pondered. "Judging by the neighbors' reaction, Benwei doesn't seem to have come to harm. That old man said 'you folks' and 'those wearing army boots'? Could it be that some military personnel are troubling Benwei? Maybe I could ask that cripple from Qianmin Street to look into it?"

————cut————

Enduring the pain of phantom limb, Winters picked up the steel awls used for practice from the ground. After self-testing, he concluded that he could only use the Arrow Flying Spell twelve times at full strength with awls of such weight before the power of the launched awls would significantly diminish.

Pushing to his limits without considering the strength, he could use the Arrow Flying Spell twenty-nine times. Any attempt to continue beyond that would cause the phantom limb pain to become so intense that Winters could not enter the spellcasting state.

This was probably the limit state that Major Moritz talked about.

However, Winters found that after the fire at the Victory Arsenal, his proficiency with acceleration-type spells had somewhat improved compared to before. He had no solid evidence, only a faint feeling.

Could it be that using spells beyond one's limits could more effectively improve one's magical abilities?

This question might have to be directed to the other spellcasters who lost consciousness like Winters that day to get an answer.

Moreover, Winters considered that if it were just his solo practice, the current extent was already his limit. His phantom limb pain was not intense enough to make him lose consciousness, but it was sufficient to prevent him from continuing the spellcasting state.

Winters recalled the day of the Arsenal fire; it was usually difficult to maintain a spellcasting state with even a slight lapse in concentration. However, on that day, he had reached his limit, and the phantom limb pain was intense enough to be deemed torture, yet he remained in a spellcasting state.

He couldn't help wondering, "Could it be that the simultaneous use of spells by a large number of spellcasters might trigger some uncontrollable effect, like a chorus?"

He thought about it, and to confirm this hypothesis, he would need to gather a large group of spellcasters to recreate the scene from the Arsenal fire. The chance to utilize so many spellcasters at once was rare; he could mention this idea to his uncle, but even Antonio would have to apply to the Council of Thirteen to use so many spellcasters.

And if this conjecture were true, it would be of significant meaning to spellcasters. The more valuable the information, the more cautiously it should be treated. If there were a potential gold mine somewhere, it would be best to confirm it quietly before deciding what to do next.

So, instinctively wanting to keep it secret, Winters decided to refrain from discussing the idea with anyone until he had gathered more information.

By this time, it was already evening, and Winters had set up his practice room in the basement. He discovered that target practice in his bedroom, clinking and clanking, would disturb the entire household. Practicing magic in the yard was also quite odd. So, he had no choice but to "hide" in the basement to practice the Arrow Flying Spell.

Back in his bedroom, Winters drank a cup of bitter herbal tea made from the herbs Major Moritz had given him.

The Major was right; the herbs did have a sleep-inducing effect. Less than a moment after drinking it, Winters felt warm all over; although he still had a slight phantom limb pain, his eyelids began to fight each other.

He lay down on the bed, ready to rest.

But just as he closed his eyes, a series of spine-chilling sounds came from outside the door. Winters reluctantly got out of bed to open the door, only to find Great General and Little General squatting at the entrance.

Cats are creatures with obsessive-compulsive disorder; many of their actions don't serve any purpose, they do them merely for the sake of doing them.

If a cat wants to enter a room, it will keep scratching at the door until someone opens it for them.

But after the owner opens the door, the cat may lose interest.

Great General, who had been making a ruckus just moments ago, swaggered away as Winters opened the door. Little General, on the other hand, meowed joyfully, leaping onto Winters' bed.

Winters was lost for words. He closed the door again and lay back down.

Little General curled up next to his pillow, seeming to have decided to sleep there.

No one knew when they fell asleep; under the influence of the medicine, Winters soon lost consciousness.

In his dream, Winters seemed to float in a pitch-black sea, with a dark sky above. He couldn't swim, but in this ocean, he wouldn't drown or sink.

He just floated, and floated, as if he could float to the end of time.

Until someone with a hammer smashed it hard against his chest.

The pain caused Winters to groan involuntarily.

The person who struck him with the hammer spoke:

"Meow-wow!"

Winters' consciousness had already awoken, but his eyelids would not open.

He was quite familiar with this situation and was certain it was Little General jumping onto him from the top of the wardrobe again.

Perched on Winters' chest, Little General let out a second deep roar of "Meow-wow."

This was the sound Little General made only before fighting with a stray cat.

Winters opened his eyes, ready to get up and take Little General out of the bedroom.

He saw a humanoid creature climbing into his bedroom through the window.