The Wandsmith [LitRPG, Isekai, Harem]

"Mana is control, not power."

"What's the difference?" Ori asked. They sat in a hollow carved into the rock at the bottom of the ravine. Just ahead lay a shadowy cave entrance, cloaked in a swirling mist that resisted every dispelling attempt Ori could manage. As a result, the group had agreed to rest and prepare before entering. Freya, for her part, seemed convinced that this was the site of the inheritance Thraxis the Librarian had directed them to. Using this relatively sheltered environment as an opportunity to train, Ori, with Freya's help, had delved deeper into his understanding of magic.

"What is power without control?"

"Useless?"

"At best. A wildfire burns indiscriminately. A storm cares nothing for the trees in its path, nor the village it swallows. Mana isn't the fire or the storm. It's not the fuel, nor the current. It is the bridge between the mind and the effect. It's the medium that connects thought to outcome."

"But where does the energy come from, then? And why does more powerful magic need more mana?"

"Simply put, more power demands more control. A heavier object needs larger hands to hold it steady. So, knowing that, how should you change your approach?"

"I've been thinking about Mana like electricity. Or Aether. Something inherently powerful. But that's not right, is it? If Power comes from control… to make Mana more powerful, I need better control. Finer control."

"Exactly. And since Mana is of the mind, the mind becomes the most important part of the process. It's the structure of your thoughts that shapes spell forms. The lucidity of your mind affects casting speed. The strength of your will determines whether your Mana can alter reality at all."

"And without that clarity, without a consistent mindset, my magic becomes inconsistent too."

"Yes. Your scientific method depends on observation, testing, and reliable outcomes. But if your observations shift with your mood, what then? For low-level magic, broad, blunt, and wasteful, that won't matter much. But for High Magic, especially at the level you're aiming for, iteration and experimentation demand consistency. A steady mind is your foundation."

Ori had always known mana responded to intention, but only now did he understand how much intent could come from feedback. He trained beneath the shadowed ravine for three days straight, using his Integration-level comprehension of mana not to generate stronger effects, but to increase clarity and structure.

With each casting, he began tuning his senses not to the outcome, but the process of using mana to feel mana. The feedback was strange at first, like flexing fingers that had never touched anything before. But soon, those intangible threads gained texture. The more he focused, the more the constructs of his spells gained nuance, layers of intent, sharper edges, a stronger sense of internal structure.

The effect was immediate. A bolt of lightning, once the thickness of an arm and prone to branching into dramatic tendrils, refined into a needle-thin lance. Same mana, same spell, but sharper, like compressing a hammer strike into the edge of a blade.

And that same principle? It applied everywhere.

By the second day, Ori had already woven his insights into half his spell constellation. Healing spells that once felt like general-purpose mending now responded with greater detail. Channel Restoration, in particular, could now be used to trace the difference between burned flesh, crushed bone, and withered tissue, and fix them each with exactly what they needed with less time and less mana.

Echo Forging, long his most mentally taxing spell, had finally clicked. What had once demanded careful threading of mana now responded to instinct, guided by tactile feedback that reflexively handled the small details that had previously felt overwhelming. Overnight, the spell had shifted from something tedious, something Ori had almost regretted learning and assigning to the Core of his spell constellation to a near-miraculous tool of creation. He caught himself smiling at the thought of crafting complex, multi-material objects from nothing using only focus and imagination.

Duælist's Weave remained essential throughout. It was his form of metamagic, a spell that allowed him to deconstruct other spells when used outside the heat of battle and at a deliberate pace. This was particularly valuable for class-granted spells, many of which he had never needed to cast manually by assembling each construct before imbuing them with mana.

The day he managed to merge Prismatic Smite and Call Lightning without the aid of Duælist's Weave, despite the process taking nearly a hundred times longer, marked a clear breakthrough. He had painstakingly threaded together the required mana patterns, stabilising the resulting hybrid into a fully functional spell. It was something he could name and slot into his constellation if he chose to.

More than anything, it was proof that, if he had to, he could engage in true spell forging, a near adhoc, freeform manipulation of mana, a skill only Arch Magi were known to wield. He was still a long way off from managing it under combat pressure, but the potential was there.

The true depth of his development lay in what his Duælist class whispered to him through use of his class specific spells. The class didn't just amplify his abilities, it scaled with his mind. Improvements over his understanding and usage of mana, multiplied their effects of the class specific skills, specifically Mind over Mind and Mind over Motion

Mind over Mind, a spell Ori had once dismissed as a minor utility or a safeguard against mental domination, had begun to show its true potential. Now, it silenced mental background noise and sharpened his intent and control. His page in the Library of Fates recorded sharp increases across multiple mental attributes. Depending on his level of rest and focus, those stats surged between one hundred and three hundred percent.

Combined with the overall gains from absorbing Aether Rifts and his recently upgraded spells, Ori was more than ten times more lethal than he had been after leaving Ghigrerchiax. A staggering improvement by any measure, one that would normally be the difference between an entire rank.

However, beyond the sovereign rank, such divisions no longer held sway, creatures like the Galroga and the Overseer would still pose a severe threat. Their power wasn't rooted in mana but drawn from other paracausal forces, Grace in particular. His improved magic might end a fight faster, but against such foes, that wasn't always enough.

Which was why he was here, why he trained with Freya. He needed to understand and overcome his vulnerabilities, chiefly, his lack of Grace, stolen from him by the divine death curse. To compensate, he was pushing himself deeper into Aether, Mana and Peritia, specialising to the point of obsession.

Aether, a raw, chaotic hunger for growth and replication.

Peritia, the environment's influence over the soul.

Mana, the conscious bridge between mind and world.

These would be his weapons.

It wasn't blind faith in Mana's superiority that drove him. It was a bloody-minded determination backed by a logical conclusion: that ultimately, the mind was the foundation of all paracausal forces. If Grace was denied to him, then he would make the mind, and by extension, Mana, supreme.

Freya watched much of it in silence, arms crossed and faintly amused. "What are you looking at?" She asked.

"Just resting my eyes by looking at something pleasant." Ori replied.

"Hrumph, wrong fairy. Your muse is over there." She grunted, though beneath her visible annoyance, Ori could see her blush.

"Still pretty though."

"Boys always want what they can't have." Freya groused.

"Who says he doesn't have you?" Ruenne'del smirked.

"I do. I am, until I can prove otherwise, spoken for."

Ruenne'del shook her head, unwilling to push the argument further.

Ori frowned, noting the exchange but finding no immediate solution to mend the apparent divide between them. They had always been prickly from the outset, whether due to reputation, class-based tension, or a simple personality clash, he wasn't sure. Still, he made a mental note to speak with each of them individually when the opportunity arose.

Meanwhile, Ori returned to work. He condensed a sphere of blue mana and began threading Invariance enchantments into the construct as if it were solid. Normally, runic channels required physical mediums to properly conduct mana, so the enchantments should not have worked. Yet Ori sensed he was close to something, and allowed the exercise to continue, even as his Split Minds drifted and observed in parallel.

It was like using a pencil to write upon itself, nominally impossible, paradoxical even. But with mana, and a bit of lateral thinking, Ori had begun to suspect it wasn't just possible. It might be easy, or at least simple, once he figured out the trick.

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Freya's introduction to high magic had been slow and methodical. It revolved around the compound use of multiple affinities, where strength came not from brute force, but from the weight of layered meaning, contrasting energies and conceptual law.

Yet even before formal instruction, Ori had stumbled upon a path of his own. His enchantments, especially the Prototype Array of Duælism, were too refined for them to be the result of raw enchantment alone. Meanwhile, Law of Radiance was layered magic at its core.

Invariance was one of the first conceptual effects Ori had ever encountered, a principle of reinforcing structure through enchantment, where layering toughness upon durability upon resistance rendered the object unbreakable by mundane force. A cornerstone of artefact-crafting, especially for shields and weapons. But Ori suspected its utility went far beyond blunt survivability.

So what if he treated spells the same way?

He discarded the attempt to write enchantments directly into the mana construct. That approach, like inscribing runes on smoke, had proven frustrating. Instead, he shifted tactics. Ori held the pattern of the enchantments purely in his mind, stabilising them with will alone. Using Prismatic Weapon's structure as a guide, he reshaped the condensed sphere of mana into a narrow construct—long, thin, and reinforced with layered Invariance.

Then he did it again. And again. Each time layering the enchantments, not physically, but mentally. Holding its traits in place with force of will, stitching its purpose into the constructs.

The first attempt failed. The construct simply bounced off the cave wall, hissing into harmless light.

He tried again.

Ori felt it in the feedback, the way the mana construct slowed then scattered.

"Come on," he muttered. Sweat beaded down his neck.

Ten tries in, something finally clicked. Ori reshaped the construct again, reinforcing every thread of mana with focus sharpened by frustration. Then, without warning, the spell shifted. The construct condensed, and the blue mist he'd been shaping turned clear and narrow, a translucent edge that shimmered without refracting light.

It moved through the cliff like wind through open air. No sound. No flare. No shuddering crack. The rock simply parted, as though the construct's existence denied interference.

Ori released the spell. A chunk of stone dropped from the wall with a dull thud. The surface left behind was unnaturally smooth—no scoring, no heat damage, no shearing. As if it had never been connected.

"That's mad," Ori breathed, wide-eyed. Relief began to edge out the shock and confusion flooding his chest. The spell had worked. Properly, finally—and it terrified him.

Ori checked his notifications as a small gust of peritia rewrote his page in the Library of Fates.

Congratulations, Dualism - Irregular - Immersion (2nd) has evolved to Duælism - Irregular - Integration (3rd)

Congratulations, your class, Duælism, has undergone a minor advancement. You have a new spell available. The legend of the Duelist accolade grows.

Spell: Lesser Mind over Magic

Type: Mentalism, Enchantment

Characteristic Requirements: Intelligence ≥ 500, Will ≥ 1000,

Other Requirements: Duælism Affinity

Effects: Store up to three mana enchantments for 24 hours. These can be applied to spells to increase their conceptual impact.

Description: This spell lets the caster hold up to three enchantments in mental storage for later use. These enchantments enhance the meaning or metaphysical weight of a spell, potentially vastly enhancing a spell's effect.

Enchantment effects are not cast on their own but are applied to a compatible spell upon casting. Stored enchantments can be reused at will throughout their duration.

Notes: Stored effects last up to 24 hours and their effects scale with Intelligence and Will.

The next day broke without sunlight.

Ori stood alone at the mouth of the cave, the entrance yawned wide, the mist at its threshold carrying the scent of cold earth and death that had long overstayed its welcome. He had risen early, adjusted his spell constellation with his inner ring now holding his new Lesser Mind over Magic spell.

Lesser Mind over Magic despite its name, was no minor technique. Even dormant, it lingered behind Ori's eyes with a steady, ambient undercurrent, something he could draw on to enhance not just the power of his spells, but the depth of their conceptual structure. When he cast Prismatic Weapon using his layered, conceptual understanding of sharpness on a single blade from his array, the resulting weapon became too potent to handle safely, inflicting harm on both his body and soul simply by being held. In addition to the synergy with the weapon's existing enchantments, Ori's Cosmic affinity appeared to amplify the effect further, as if it naturally enhanced the resonance between overlapping magical structures.

With this spell, his magic didn't just become stronger in a way few people below the rank of Immortal could manage, it became more flexible, more deceptive. He could hide traps within seemingly innocuous spells, or embed genuine messages within ones that appeared lethal. Ori understood that the true strength of Lesser Mind over Magic would only grow over time, multiplying in effectiveness as his mastery of enchantment deepened.

They stepped into the cave and soon discovered it to be a labyrinth.

Some passages shimmered faintly, laced with veins of ore that pulsed with the quiet thrum of Aether. Through it, a pulse of energy moved through the walls like breath, as if the cave itself were alive. Other tunnels twisted back upon themselves or ended abruptly in collapsed stone or silent, unlit hollows. The air was thick with the stench of death—musty and damp, clinging like rot-soaked cloth. It reminded Ori that this must once have been a burial site, a long-lost grave. Yet there were no bones, no remnants of bodies. Only rock, dirt, and the echoes of recently banished ghosts.

From time to time, the scent turned sharp, too fresh and sour. Not the musk of ancient decay, but the acrid taint of something recently dead. Had Ori been less tense and less haunted by memories of collapsing tunnels and nightmare caves crawling with deamons too similar to this one, he might have investigated. He might have followed the scent, sought out the source, but not him, not today.

"This place reeks of twisted magic," Freya spoke, from inside his soul space using her spell Spectral Voice. "Mana warped by Aether. Corrupted Grace turned stagnant and thick, feeding the growth of curse magic. Inheritance site or not, I fear something in here is still very much awake."

Ori tightened his grip on Seraphine's Beacon, its soft white glow offering a measure of comfort in the stifling dark. His other hand reached out instinctively, brushing against Ruenne'del. Her unease was evident, but tempered by a perverse sense of exhilaration. Her fae nature had resurfaced as it often did in moments like this. Drawing a strange joy from tension as though she were a spectator living vicariously through a tale of danger. What unsettled most, Ruenne'del found thrilling despite her terror.

They pressed on. The descent was slow and winding, and Ori used the growing density of Aether in the air as their guide. While they marked their route with care, Ori's contingency plans did not rely on retracing their steps. His plan A and B centred around escape through his dream-aspected domain or Void Dance should the situation demand it.

By the third fork, something shifted. A spike of precognitive awareness flared through his bond with Ruenne'del, and a moment later his enhanced perception caught it.

Light Field surged through the cave, flooding the passages with tiny motes of celestial-aspected light. Infused with Lesser Mind over Magic and Law of Radiance, the otherwise harmless utility spell was transformed, now capable of dispelling ghosts and phantasmal demigods alike. A scream split the air, ear-tearing and furious, as something spectral tore free from the rock, a ghastly, misshapen soul writhing with rage.

Ori could see it clearly through Vision of the Progenitor. Not its body, for it had none, but the weight of its soul. It was undead, once Immortal, now reduced to a lingering echo sustained by a pool of corrupted Grace and festering resentment. The Grace, long soured, had outlived the followers who had once imparted it, curdling into something foul existing only to sustain the revenant's blighted existance.

It screamed again, this time as an attack. Ori's vision turned bloodshot, his ears began to bleed. He caught a glimpse of crimson tears streaming from Ruenne'del's bloodshot eyes, her fae hearing far more sensitive than his own had likely suffered worse. Ori temporarily withheld the dubious comfort of a healing spell, choosing instead to end the fight swiftly.

His pseudo-domain surged forward, crashing into the phantasmal horror. Its presence was snuffed out as the corrupted grace empowering it was suffocated like a candle deprived of air. Hundreds of thousands of points of peritia ticked away from Ori's reserve as a greater tide swirled and spun in Fates now unmistakable signal of the creature's final death.

Seventeen more fallen Immortals crossed their path. Ori's Light Field, Law of Radiance, and pseudo-domain brought an end to lives that had continued far too long beyond their natural conclusions. As they moved, he found himself contemplating the nature of Immortals who had somehow died and become ghosts, of how even with his bond to a Leanan Sídhe he was, in practice, functionally immortal despite being far from the rank of one. He considered too how Poppy and Harriet had both changed subtly, yet unmistakably, after reaching that rank.

However, his silent introspection, a distraction from his growing claustrophobia, was short-lived.

The Aether, along with the corrupted Grace thick in the air had grown dense enough to feel tangible. And now, a will, one distant, malevolent, and curious, had turned its gaze upon them.

Ori staggered, clutching his skull as pressure twisted inward. Ruenne'del screamed beside him, her wings fluttering out of sync. Freya's wail trembled the very fabric of their bond.

He fought through it, forcing the spell to form. Light Field burst from him, immediately imbued with Law of Radiance.

The blood-boiling curse that had settled over them was banished.

Ori's chest heaved, his heart racing, gasping for breath, he cast Channel Restoration, sweeping it over his companions to mend physical wounds even as he searched for signs of spiritual or metaphysical harm.

Satisfied, Ori made a decision.

"Okay, this is enough," he said, his tone firm. "You two need to go back."

"But—" Ruenne'del began.

"I mean it," he cut in, voice turning cold. "That wasn't random. It wants me. Whatever's behind this place, whoever laid this inheritance site... it's far beyond Sovereign. The Aether's just making it worse. You stay. I'll go."

Ruenne'del's lips tightened. He didn't need his empathic connection to read the look in her eyes. Through it, he could see her disappointment at being sent away and how it matched with frustration at being unable to help. But she nodded all the same.

"Ori—" Freya began, but Ori cut her off, indicating his mind was made up.

"Besides, this Aether Rift feels larger than the others. The closer you get, the worse it will be for you."

He took Ruenne'del's hand and unfurled his dream-aspected domain. Within seconds, the world folded around them, and Ori brought them back to the cave's entrance.

Freya emerged from within his soulspace, wings flaring as she transformed into her foot-long pixie form. She settled lightly on Ruenne'del's shoulder, her stern expression barely concealing the worry behind her eyes.

"Be careful. And may wild luck shine on you more than it showers."

Ori nodded once, then turned and stepped back into the cave alone.