"Huh, did you say something?" Celia asked, glancing at Magnus. He had stopped mid-sentence, muttering something so softly to himself that she could barely hear it.
"Yeah... I think you just gave me an idea. Wait here for a second." Both Celia and Tola exchanged confused looks as Magnus suddenly stopped walking and began looking around. They were already on the street where Hisel's Needle Nook sat. In fact, Celia could see it from where she stood.
"Wait, Magnus, what are you-" Celia barely had time to speak before Magnus turned and headed in the direction of a nearby alleyway.
Looking back over his shoulder as he moved through the crowd, he waved.
"I'll be right back. I'll meet you at Hisel's." Then he disappeared from view, leaving Celia and Tola standing there puzzled.
"Does he usually run off like that?" Tola asked, a touch of disbelief in her voice. Celia turned to her, slightly surprised.
"What? No. Well... sometimes. Actually, yeah," Celia admitted with a sigh. She glanced in the direction Magnus had gone before turning back to Tola.
"Come on, he said he'll meet us at the shop."
"Yeah, I think I'm starting to understand why you don't talk about what happens at your job when you and I get a chance to meet up with the girls. Talking about all this magic stuff for just a few minutes already scrambled my brain," Tola said, to which Celia nodded in agreement.
"Yeah... it can be a lot sometimes. Especially when you start getting into the more existential stuff that keeps you up at night. But... It's still fun," Celia said with a genuine smile.
Meanwhile, Magnus had made a sharp turn after entering the alleyway, reaching a dead end. The space was narrow, wedged between two buildings. The back doors of a few shops could be seen, seldom used. Bottles and shards of glass littered the ground, a sign that people came here to drink, alone or with friends, out of sight of the night patrols. Cracks ran along the walls and pavement, the result of years of neglect and the constant battering of rain. The gutters, worn from years of use, funneled water into the city's sewage system, collecting what little runoff still found its way through the city's aging infrastructure.
Magnus grabbed the red and black marble floating beside him, which he decided to call K-Variant Rokshaata for simplicity. It dematerialized into a flash of light as he stored it away in his ring. Afterward, he began scanning the alleyway's floor while speaking to Basker.
So, Basker, right now, when we use [Bullseye], the exact length of the trajectory between the Rokshaata's projectile section and my target is left undefined, correct?
[Correct, Master. We don't visualize the exact trajectory length. This way, the distance between the projectile and the target can be almost anything. The only thing we define is that there is indeed a trajectory, but not its length. The Command Console fills in the details, adjusting the trajectory's length for us. The only thing we focus on in detail is the projectile itself, and the target it's aimed at.]
This meant that while Magnus couldn't use [Bullseye] to hit something he didn't know existed fifty kilometers away, anything within his line of sight—or something he had memorized and could visualize—he could strike, even if it was on the other side of the world. It really was the perfect kinetic weapon, just as he'd designed it to be, able to ignore any external forces and hit at whatever speed he desired.
But after his conversation with Celia, an idea came to him.
Basker, you know what I'm thinking, right? How about we try what Celia suggested? Visualize the target as nothing... a void? A place with no substance, so there's no risk of damaging the world?
[I'm not sure, Master. But if I had to guess, I don't think it would work. Based on our experience, we've encountered two different types of voids. The first is when reality temporarily gives way. The void underneath is colorless, shapeless, not something you can observe or visualize properly, even in your imagination. We saw this when the Null State Glitch began to break reality. The second form is when everything simply ceases. We saw this when the Null State Glitch erased everything in a ten-meter radius, even space itself. It's similar to an artificially created Liminal Veil, the result of lacking all things that make up the world.]
In the end, both were voids, but they were difficult to understand for different reasons.
Hmm. So I can't visualize the first void we encountered. Targeting that would be impossible. But what about the second one? Even if it's hard to fully comprehend the Liminal Veil, I can still picture it to some extent.
[You can, but that doesn't guarantee it will travel to that target. Everything in this world is different, even if they seem the same and are created similarly. Whether it's microscopic or something deeper than the material world, no two things are exactly alike. If you wanted to target the wall to our left, all you'd need is to visualize a small section of it. That unique section is enough for the Command Console to lock onto. But for a void, there's no differentiation. It's just empty space.]
The Command Console didn't read intentions. Much like it couldn't tell when Magnus was trying to teleport something instead of erase it, it couldn't differentiate between a void like the Liminal Veil or any other lightless areas in the world.
Not unless it has a reference point…
Magnus understood it was like trying to identify a place just by staring at the sky—impossible unless there was something to focus on. A reference, even as small as a single letter on a sign or a particular type of leaf, could help the Command Console lock onto a target. But a void was a different beast. It was defined by its lack of everything, including differentiation. There was nothing to serve as a reference point.
And just like that, Magnus hit a wall. Or at least, he thought so. Because after sitting with the idea for a moment, something clicked.
Wait a second... no, the Liminal Veil wasn't empty, and it did have a reference point. The world itself.
The realization sparked something in Magnus's gaze as he found what he was searching for on the floor of the alleyway: a small rock, similar in size to Rokshaata, though not as smooth.
What do you think, Basker?
Magnus asked, his inner voice gaining confidence.
If we use the world as a reference point to define the Liminal Veil itself as our target, we should be able to visualize it, right? The world's complex, sure, but if we only visualize a tiny part of it, and the rest is just the void, we should be able to make it work.
Basker paused for a moment before responding, the mental entity clearly processing the idea.
[I suppose it could be possible. I'll begin constructing the visualization and trajectory now. But how would you like to test if we're successful?]
As Magnus tossed the small rock up and down in his hand, memorizing its sharp edges and curves, he thought for a second.
Well, if we use [Bullseye] on the rock, we'll start small. Let's set the velocity for sonic speed. It won't reach the Liminal Veil at that speed, but if it starts moving, we'll know it's targeting something and that our idea worked. If it doesn't move, or the Command Console doesn't accept the visualization, then I guess the idea's a bust.
[Understood. I've completed the visualization and trajectory, and the velocity is set to sonic speed.]
Magnus finished memorizing the rock's shape and structure in his hand, focusing on every detail.
Alright, let's see how this goes. Hopefully, we don't blow something up.
With a flick of his wrist, Magnus tossed the rock forward. As it arced through the air, he activated [Bullseye] based on the visualization that Basker had prepared. He expected one of two outcomes: either the Command Console wouldn't accept the visualization, and the rock would fall harmlessly to the ground, or it would fly off in some direction at the speed of sound—maybe even towards the edge of the world, if there was such a thing.
But the result was neither of those. In that same instant, the rock vanished.
"Huh?" Magnus muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion as he paused, standing there for a second. He eventually stepped forward, scanning the alleyway, looking up and down to see if it had just flown somewhere he hadn't noticed. But it wasn't anywhere. It had disappeared, like when [Deletion] was used—erased from existence.
Basker, did you accidentally use the wrong visualization?
[Impossible, Master. I always double-check visualizations after creating them. You do the same.]
Yeah, I know...
Magnus frowned, still trying to make sense of what had happened.
I was just making sure. I'm confused. Why did the rock disappear like that?
No matter how he thought about it, it didn't make sense. Normally, he could at least follow the logic of the Command Console. He could understand why it would delete something instead of teleporting it, why it accepted some visualizations over others based on realism, or the rules set within the source code. But right now, his mind was blank. Why would using [Bullseye] and targeting the Liminal Veil cause the rock to disappear, rather than travel at the velocity he had set?
It didn't feel right. It seemed odd, random, and completely out of place.
Magnus decided to have Basker create another visualization using the rock. This time, the trajectory would send the rock flying back into his hand. If the rock had really been erased like when he used [Deletion], then this wouldn't work. He held out his palm, and in a moment, the visualization took form in his mind. He activated [Bullseye] again, setting the speed to the same as before. There was no sense of travel, just like when it disappeared, but then Magnus saw it: the rock reappeared, not where he had tossed it, but right on top of his palm, just as he had visualized it.
Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on? Did we just figure out another way to create and destroy things?
But Basker's words in response carried a hint of skepticism.
[I don't think so.]
Oh? You sound like you have a theory.
[I do. Based on what we know, the Command Console is absolute when it comes to executions, unless something equally fundamental interferes, like a glitch or a rule embedded in the source code itself. We assumed that, depending on the speed we set, [Bullseye] would send the projectile to the Liminal Veil along the shortest path possible. When we set it to the speed of sound, we expected it to travel at that speed to the Veil. But what if we were wrong? What if there's no way to physically reach the Liminal Veil beyond space from within the world, simply by speed alone?]
Magnus narrowed his eyes as he listened to Basker. If it were truly impossible for something to reach the Liminal Veil, no matter how fast it moved, that would typically be the end of it. It would be labeled as impossible. But the Command Console didn't accept typical limitations. If physics got in the way, it ignored physics. If magic interfered, it ignored magic. And if the fabric of space itself stood in the way...
Then the projectile would simply bypass space and travel to the Liminal Veil regardless. Right... the Command Console works in absolutes. If I set a target that [Bullseye] can physically reach, it doesn't matter how slow or fast it's moving—it'll spend eternity trying to do so. If I give it a time limit of three seconds, it'll absolutely reach that target in three seconds. And if I tell it to go somewhere that's typically unreachable, it'll get there anyway.
That's just how the Command Console works. In this case, it's like [Bullseye] had the additional ability of [Absolute Movement].
As he watched the rock roll in his palm, his thoughts started to shift.
But wait... if I can send things through space and into the Liminal Veil, doesn't that mean...
[Congratulations, Master. You've just discovered a method to replicate teleportation.]
Huh... Well, I guess that's kind of what I was trying to accomplish? Honestly, I was just curious about what would happen if the void were set as [Bullseye]'s target. If it would let me bypass the risk of collateral damage, or not. I didn't think it would turn out like this, though.
First, he'd accidentally learned how to create and erase things, and now he'd accidentally discovered teleportation.
Magnus spent the next five minutes experimenting. It was just like the teleportation a Master-level mage could pull off. No rifts in space, no disturbances. He could make things disappear in one place and reappear in another, or even make them travel to the Liminal Veil mid-flight and continue elsewhere. Just like [Deletion] and [Restoration], it looked like it flickered in and out of existence. But after both Magnus and Basker tested it, they confirmed that the rock wasn't being recreated each time—it was actually being sent into the void and then brought back.
Looks like it has the same limitations as usual. I need full memorization of the structure I'm quote-unquote, teleporting. And I need to be able to visualize their forms all at once.
As he walked down the alley, turning the corner and tossing the rock aside, he thought over the details. Essentially, he still couldn't teleport himself, his whole body, but anything he typically could use [Bullseye] on could be teleported.
And that included Rokshaata.
Just thinking about it made Magnus's lips curl slightly. Not only did he have a weapon that could knock people out instantly, but now he could teleport it, too. Of course, unless he was planning on teleporting it into someone's body, it would still need to travel slightly to hit its target after reappearing. But as long as he increased its velocity, even Master-level knights wouldn't be able to react fast enough to dodge it.
It was pretty much an instant KO.
Magnus stepped back into the open, the darkness and muted sounds of the alleyway giving way to sunlight and the buzz of the street. He paused for a moment, simply looking around.
Adept-level magic... [Restoration] and [Deletion]... the K-Variant Rokshaata... and now, a method for genuine teleportation.
He'd only been back in Arlcliff City for a few days, but the list of abilities at his disposal had already grown dramatically. It almost made him wish he'd run into another vampire, or a mana beast, or maybe even a Master-level mage or knight. Not because he was arrogant or confident he'd win—no, he'd learned that lesson already. It was the simple desire that came with unlocking something new, something you didn't have access to before. He wanted to test himself against something substantial.
But for now, there was nothing like that—just him and the two girls who were probably waiting for him at the clothing shop down the street. So, he shifted his focus away from the crowd and began walking toward Hisel's, musing to himself.
Hmm... You know, with how much trouble I seem to attract, maybe I've developed a bit of an addiction to conflict since coming to this world.