It worked! Carl opened his eyes, his face alight with excitement, frantically waving his arms to vent the thrill in his heart.
After a period of attempts, with the help of the power of the Divine Domain, he had successfully constructed a Magic Model for a Minor Spell Field in his sea of consciousness.
Constructing a Magic Model was very complex. It was impossible to simply meditate deeply before each casting.
Once successfully constructed, it would stabilize and could be brought into the real world. It would not collapse simply from leaving the Divine Domain.
I haven’t even mastered the Meditation Method, and I’ve already learned a Zero-Circle Magic. I must be unprecedented, right? Carl muttered to himself, then cautiously activated the Magic Model within his sea of consciousness according to the records in the book.
A silent tremor came from his sea of consciousness, and then an invisible force field emerged from his body, enveloping an area roughly a meter in radius.
It was a peculiar sensation, one that captivated Carl completely. He remained immersed for a long while before finally coming back to his senses.
Activating the Minor Spell Field continuously consumed spiritual power. With my current spiritual power, I can maintain it for at most five to six minutes. That’s without being influenced by external forces.
Defensive power... Carl took a quill, dipped it in ink, and recorded on paper:
An ordinary person with bare hands would find it very difficult to break the field. If wielding a weapon, it could withstand three strikes.
This is obviously weaker than Miles. It seems that the same witchcraft, the same Magic Model, wielded by different people, does not possess the same power.
When Miles cast the Minor Spell Field, he could easily deflect the attacks of Knight Attendants and even block most of the force from Dana’s sword skills when she attacked with all her might.
Far beyond what Carl was currently capable of.
However, it was clear that Miles’s witchcraft also had its limits; that was why his field dissipated, and he was killed by a sleeve arrow.
Releasing witchcraft consumed spiritual power, and one could feel noticeable fatigue. I surmise this is due to insufficient spiritual power,
After successfully constructing a Zero-Circle Magic in his sea of consciousness, Carl felt not only excitement and exhilaration but also a host of new doubts.
Carl could hardly wait to go to the manor outside the city to ask for further knowledge.
No rush, he thought, putting down the pen and looking out the window at the moon. First, I’ll take a trip to the Otherworld.
The first of the month, Black City’s safe day, was fast approaching, an opportunity not to be missed.
Pushing open the door, Carl stretched his limbs while facing the gloomy street and exhaled a long breath of turbid air.
As the saying goes, with great skill comes great courage.
He was now completely different from before.
Not only had he mastered the Poison Wolf Breath and become a Knight Attendant, but he had also learned a Zero-Circle Magic.
His strength had surged.
Even the oppressive atmosphere of the dark and dreary Black City seemed to lessen considerably.
Wrapped in a black cloak, Carl stood at the entrance to the market, looking at the wooden frames constructed from stakes.
Several corpses hung from the frames.
The corpses had been cruelly tortured before death. Visible scars and prominent purplish bruises covered them. A cold wind carried the stench of decaying flesh.
Those hanging here were criminals who had violated Black City’s taboos, most of whom had tried to flee.
Carl murmured, his voice tinged with emotion, "Kolon... I told you, why always think of leaving Black City? Wouldn’t it be better to stay and do business peacefully? Now look how you’ve ended up."
Kolon was dead. He was the one who had sold Carl the Poison Wolf Breath. The last time Carl had visited, Kolon had spoken of a way to escape Black City.
Now he hung on the wooden frame, a public spectacle.
His eyes bulged, and his face was contorted in a savage expression; it seemed his escape plan had ultimately failed.
SIGH! Carl sighed and strolled into the market.
"Rat meat! Fresh, unspoiled rat meat! One or two portions for half a black stone!"
"Finest Kaliya Longswords! Sharp and lightweight, the perfect choice for slaying those half-dead creatures..."
"Clear water! Filtered clear water, no impurities! Eight liters for just one black stone..."
The vendors’ cries were the same as always, unaffected by the corpses hanging on the wooden frames.
The prices have gone up, Carl noted. Both meat and water have increased. It must be harder to get food in winter.
Carl walked along, stopping now and then to inquire about prices, occasionally pausing at stalls that caught his interest.
He picked up a yellowish, dirt-like lump and asked curiously, "What’s this?"
"Clay," the vendor explained. "It contains mucus secreted by subterranean worms. It’s edible. Ten pieces for one black stone."
Food? Carl frowned. This was clearly just a common clod of earth.
"Of course." Seeing his disbelief, the vendor took back the clay, licked it, and then handed it back. "Though it tastes earthy, you can swallow it. Savor it, and you can even taste a hint of sweetness. My clay here is top quality, with plenty of mucus."
"If there isn’t enough mucus, eating too much will block your intestines. Many people die from eating dirt."
Looking at the clod of earth handed back to him, with clear saliva marks on it, Carl waved his hands repeatedly, refusing.
Eating dirt? Have things gotten this difficult here?
His thoughts turning, he pointed to a pile of powder nearby. "What’s this?"
"Soul Powder," the vendor said, putting away the clay and explaining casually. "You find this stuff near the corpses of half-dead creatures after you kill them. Eating it gives you a rush of energy and slightly increases your strength. They say it’s an essential ingredient in certain secret concoctions."
"Two black stones a portion."
Oh! Carl stroked his chin. "Interested in some cured meat strips?"
"Yes!" The vendor’s eyes lit up. "Definitely! If the meat strips are good quality, I can even give you a better price."
Carl, carrying a package, continued to wander through the market.
"Uncle?" a timid voice called out. "Is that you, Uncle?"
Carl turned towards the sound and saw a raggedly dressed youth standing not far away, looking at him intently.
It’s you, Carl thought, then recalled her name. "Ayala?"
Since Kolon had been planning to leave Black City, he would have transferred his stall in advance. Ayala was the one who had taken it over—this girl, who appeared to be a boy.
"It really is you, Uncle Carl!" Ayala’s face lit up with excitement. "I haven’t seen you since you left last time! Uncle, whatever you want to buy, if I have it, I’ll give you the best price!"
Her enthusiasm made Carl feel somewhat embarrassed; he hadn’t planned on visiting Ayala’s stall at all.
Alright then! He sighed and walked over to her stall, casually browsing the items.
"You don’t have what I’m looking for here," he said.
"What does Uncle want?" Ayala’s eyes dimmed, but she quickly tried to sound cheerful. "Next time you come, I’ll have it ready for you."
What I want... Carl shook his head lightly. "There’s nothing specific I’m looking for."
"That’s... that’s okay." Ayala forced a smile, hiding her disappointment. "I’ll prepare more and better things. Next time you come to the market, Uncle, you can come and see."
"I’m not sure when I’ll be here next," Carl said, standing up. "We’ll see."
"Alright." Ayala nodded with difficulty. "Take care, Uncle. You’re always welcome here."
Carl didn’t respond. Setting up a stall in the market also cost black stones. With Ayala’s business doing so poorly, it was uncertain if she would even be there next time. More likely, she wouldn’t be.
Just a young girl, no need to be concerned about her.