I never realized I lived so close to Issei.
I walked past his house, taking a new route home.
I had no idea where to find the blood of a magical creature, so I used vague associative reasoning instead.
Onmyōdō held some similarities to Taoism, at least in the cosmological sense.
The elements constituted reality.
Yin and yang described opposing, complementary forces.
If I wanted to craft a basic warding charm, then I probably needed magical energy with a yang or holy attribute.
I wasn’t sure about the naming conventions yet.
According to the internet, ginseng was a plant with an abundance of natural energy.
If I juiced it and mixed it into the ink, then the yang energy might work as a weak substitute reagent.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Onmyōdō was mainly used to exorcise demons, monsters, ghosts, and curses.
Myths had a basis in reality, after all.
The ancients weren’t idiots.
So that was my plan.
Anyway, back to Hyoudou.
That idiot was standing in his front yard with his friends, loudly yelling about an eroge.
This person was the protagonist?
Who was the author here?
The god of fate?
This future sex offender was supposed to decide the fate of the world?
Maybe I should swap fates with him.
My fingers brushed against the Fate Stealing Card in my pocket.
I wasn’t a good man.
I was selfish.
I wanted to be remembered.
I wanted to prove my existence.
I wasn’t pure enough to judge him from a throne.
But at least my obsessions and sins weren’t aimed at other people’s vulnerabilities.
I couldn’t help but sneer as I walked past.
Then I hoisted my bag higher over my shoulder and sped up.
I didn’t want to think about that right now.
Magic was way more interesting.
— Magic was more interesting indeed.
My table was a mess.
Have you ever tried to juice a root?
What was I thinking?
I ended up liquefying it in my blender.
My blender.
The blender that had suspiciously appeared in my kitchen like it had always belonged there.
I remembered buying it.
I also knew, with complete certainty, that I had not owned a blender yesterday.
As reality recognized me, did things just suddenly appear like I had always had them?
No.
No existential spirals.
Not while there was ginseng sludge on my table.
Anyway, the ginseng goop mixed with the black ink I bought was more like a paste than proper ink, but screw it.
I could sense the aura around it.
It was like the aura I had always felt around living things, only significantly more potent.
If a flower’s aura could be described as “two points,” then the ink mixture was around “five points.” I really wondered what would happen if I used actual magical blood.
I slowly drew the talisman for a basic protective ward from memory.
It was strange.
Algorithmic Thinking must have kicked in because I could almost see the structure of the spell.
Not really see it, per se.
I recognized it.
Like a program.
Certain repeating patterns were similar to functions.
When connected to specific sigil-like brushstrokes, it was like applying a method to the function.
The intent projected into the talisman was the data used to fill the program.
That part was more nuanced.
More esoteric.
Also, I didn’t really feel like articulating it right now.
But it worked.
Kind of.
[Prototype Talisman Created: Weak Yang Ward] Effect: Repels minor spiritual impurities.
Quality: Terrible.
Durability: Six minutes.
— “Six minutes?” I raised my brow.
[Host used root paste.] Fair.
At least I made something, I guess.
[Host could be considered talented.] [Fictional entities often grasp the foundations of constructed realities more easily as their existence stabilizes.] More dissociative epiphany.
Oh joy.
Maybe I could create a cool little sigil to the god of time management, if he existed.
I needed more time to think about this crap.
[Such a being does not exist.] Bummer.
I kept working, managing to create three talismans total.
All of terrible quality, of course.
I wanted to continue, but my head was pounding.
[Host has drained his magical energy.] Huh?
That can happen?
[Intent is directed from your body and stored in the reagent.
Your actions when casting spells…] Actualize it, yeah.
So magical energy exists in my body, and I use it as a way to direct my intent toward the world.
Following that, the talisman or spell interacts with reality and triggers a phenomenon by releasing the magical energy stored in the brushstrokes.
Or circles, with other types of magic?
Anyway, when I stick the talisman to the wall, the spell runs like a machine, drawing power from the energy in the air.
The talisman and reagents were mundane in nature.
Essentially dead matter.
They couldn’t handle a constant influx of magical energy running through the circuits.
No wonder they only lasted six minutes.